A bolt of lightning flashed between the distant trees, vivid white and blinding. To 481’s surprise, the horses did not startle. Instead, they trotted steadily onwards through the thundering rain, barely making a sound. The Gifted man shivered, drawing his grey, fur-lined cloak closer to his body with his left hand, gripping the reins as tightly as he could with his right. With every step his mare took, he felt his grip slipping. His fingers had never been the same since an assignment three years ago, when his right hand and wrist had been shattered by the blow of a rebel’s club.

I can’t let them see my weakness. The Leader herself chose me for this mission. If I do well, she may even recommend me for the Council. I don’t want her to see me as just a damn cripple.

“Shouldn’t we stop and find cover?” 373 called. 481 glanced to the left where his companion rode beside him. The younger man was sitting tall in his saddle despite the droplets trickling down his face, his eyebrows raised and his lips curved into a bemused smile. His question was directed at the Leader, who rode in front of them on a large bay gelding.

“No,” she said, turning when she spoke. She wore a long cloak similar to 481’s but hers was deep black and edged with gold. Her stark grey eyes narrowed, shadowed by her hood. “We ride on until we reach the village.”

373 bowed his head and touched his fist to his chest. When the Leader was facing forward again, he glanced at 481 and rolled his eyes.

“She’s been Leader for what, two months?” he said under his breath. “I’ve been leading expeditions for fifteen years. It’s not like we’re chasing after rebels, we’re just going to arrest some old village woman. It can wait until tomorrow morning, surely. If we keep going the horses will tire. They’ll stumble and fall.”

481 shrugged, glancing nervously at the Leader. I can’t let her hear any doubts. “I’m sure the Leader has her reasons,” he said evenly. He shivered, resisting the urge to chatter his teeth. “Maybe this woman is a rebel, or something else, I don’t know. There are known rebel groups in the south.”

“If that were the case, she would’ve told me at the very least,” said 373. He sat up straighter, adjusting the reins. “I’m in the Council now. We are privy to such information.”

You’re an up-jumped pretender. You’ve never fought in a real battle in your life, but somehow you managed to convince the Head Councilman to promote you. 481 gritted his teeth, clenching his injured fist as tightly as he could. It was he who should have had that position, he who should be wearing a black uniform. Instead, he was stuck with grey while a younger, vainer man took his place. His only hope now was that the Leader took a shine to him and recommended he be promoted. She could not appoint Council members herself, but 481 assumed the Head Councilman took her advice into account.

“What do you think?” 373 continued, oblivious. He raised his eyebrows, glancing over his shoulder at the fourth member of their party, who rode steadily behind them on a dappled grey mare.

“It’s not our place to question the Leader,” the woman said quietly, her voice almost inaudible through the rain. They had set off from the fortress together at dawn, but in the twelve hours since 481 had yet to hear her speak. He knew her number, 571, from the mission briefing the Head Councilman had given him prior to their journey. She wore a grey uniform like him, but the dark green lining of her cloak and sleeves and the emerald encrusted timepiece hanging from her belt indicated she had the Gift of Earth.

“Fine,” said 373 shortly, rolling his eyes. He lowered his voice. “Don’t act like the two of you aren’t thinking the same thing.”

481 cleared his throat, shifting in his saddle. He glanced at the Leader, but she rode onward, with no change in her body language to suggest she had heard anything.

I’m not questioning her. She is our Leader now, and I must do as she asks. But… it is unusual, he’s right in that.

Leaders rarely travelled the Island, especially not for a mission that could be easily handled by even the most inexperienced of Gifted. The Head Councilman had read the mission briefing to 481 before he left the Fortress - they were to capture a certain village woman alive and bring her back for questioning. 481 had no idea what knowledge she had that could possibly be useful to the Leader and the Council. That information was classified, which he understood well enough. As an ordinary Gifted soldier, it wasn’t his place to question his orders. But the Head Councilman had shown him a sketch of their target too. She was a small, frail looking woman in her sixties with long white hair tied in a braid, barely indistinguishable from any other nonGifted villager. She would never be able to overpower a single fully trained Gifted, let alone four, so why the Leader felt she had to lead the mission herself was a mystery. Perhaps there was something else about this woman that made her capture vital. Or perhaps the Leader simply wanted to prove herself to the Gifted and her Council. Leaders served for life, but she was newly appointed and young. Her predecessor had been a strong, stable man, guiding both the Gifted and nonGifted for almost fifty years. Many in the Fortress, including 481 himself, had doubts over whether this young, unblooded woman could fill his shoes.

Lost in thought, 481 and his companions spent the rest of the journey in silence. They rode for an hour more, following the winding forest road south until it met the Great River. From there, it was only a short journey along the riverbank to Town 13, the farming village where their target was supposedly hiding. When they finally arrived it was well past sunset, and the rain had slowed to a steady drizzle.

“At last,” 373 said, yawning loudly as they followed a dirt path between two large, grassy fields. They were heading for a cluster of redbrick buildings visible at the bottom of the hill, where the river met the sea. “What are the headquarters like in these farming villages? I haven’t stayed in one for years. Are there decent beds? They have thralls, right –“

“We won’t be stopping yet,” the Leader interrupted from up ahead. “We will find the target and capture her, exchange our horses, then make our way back to the Fortress.”

“But that’ll take all night,” 373 protested, sitting up straighter in his saddle and puffing out his chest. “Sir, I know this mission is crucial to you, but if we ride all through the night we will only be tired and might make mistakes. She may overpower and escape us. We should stop and rest now, then in the morning –“

“If we stop to rest, she may hear of our arrival and run,” the Leader said. She turned to face her subordinates, her eyebrows narrowing. “I’m surprised you’re causing so much fuss. If you are truly Gifted, one sleepless night should be no trouble.”

373’s neck reddened and his dark brown eyes narrowed into slits. After a few seconds he placed a hand over his heart and bowed his head.

“Of course, sir,” he muttered through gritted teeth. 481 smirked, turning his head away so the Councilman couldn’t see. He tried catching 571’s eye, but her gaze was fixed on the Leader.

When they reached the bottom of the hill, the dirt track turned into a cobblestone road that led into town. They followed the street until its end, where it widened into the central village square. The Gifted headquarters was located on the side of the square closest to the sea, facing inwards towards the town. It was a large, two-storey building with a tall, white stone fence surrounding the property. A large stable was located on the grounds, and to 481’s surprise the Leader took them straight there rather than greet the local Gifted. They left the horses behind with a fresh bale of hay and continued on foot, making their way back along the cobblestone road to the large communal buildings that made up most of the town. The Leader had them stick to the shadows, hurrying along in single file until they reached a red-brick dwelling that overlooked the river. It was one of the larger buildings in the village. From the size of it, 481 guessed there would be at least twenty rooms of varying sizes that each housed a nonGifted family inside.The Leader took her three followers to the nearest staircase, a large stone construct stuck onto the side of the building which led to the upstairs rooms.

“Our target is hiding in here,” said the Leader, standing at the bottom of the stairs. “Room 14. It’s on the top floor. 571, you stay here and keep watch for anything suspicious. 373, you hurry to the second exit on the other side of this building. If she knows we are coming, she may try to escape that way. 481, you search around the other buildings. Make sure she isn’t hiding anywhere else. I will check Room 14.”

481 bowed deeply and turned around, making his way to the central courtyard that effaced the four largest communal buildings. When he was out of sight of his comrades, he let his lips break into a grin. It seemed to him that his job was the most crucial, after the Leader’s. If the target had tried to made an escape, it was he who would likely find her.  

If I do I’ll capture her all by myself. It’s my chance to show the Leader what I can do. If I find and subdue this villager, she’ll recommend me to the Council for sure.

He moved swiftly through the streets, checking down every alley and corner he could find. The clouds shifted above him and for the first time that night, the full moon was visible in the sky. It shone brightly and aided his search, illuminating the cracked and scuffed brick walls, highlighting every nook and cranny. After ten minutes of searching, he finally reached the far side of the village, where the red brick buildings melted into vast farmlands. Gazing out at the silver dappled grass fields, 481 sighed and closed his eyes.

I suppose this is far enough. If she’s fled any further, we’re unlikely to find her tonight.

He turned around and was about to start back towards Room 14 when he a gust of wind blew past him and the rustling of leaves filled the air. Glancing towards the gentle sound, he noticed a small herb garden nestled between the paddock fence and the redbrick wall of the nearest communal building. Resting his ruined right hand on the hilt of his sword, he crept slowly towards the garden, coming to a stop outside the picket fence.

Just twenty feet away from him kneeled a small village woman with a long, messy white braid. Even from the back, her resemblance to the sketch was too great to be a coincidence. She was dressed in simple village garb; a dirty brown woollen dress with a grey shawl draped over her shoulders. Her hands were covered by thick black gloves and she held a cluster of grey-green weeds in both of them. Even from a distance, 481 could see her wrinkled, thin neck and wrists as she tended to the garden.

It’s her… This frail old woman is the person the Leader needed three experienced Gifted to hunt down.

“What are you doing here?” the woman said, looking up from the ground.

481 stifled a gasp and grabbed at his sword. His ruined fingers fumbled around the hilt and it slipped out of his grip. Cursing under his breath, he switched quickly to his left hand. He tensed, ready to rush forward, but the woman did not turn around or stand up. Instead, she stayed hunched over the ground, tending to the plants while a gentle breeze blew through the garden, tousling her hair. Only then did she look up at the sky, as though someone tall was standing directly before her. 

“Why won’t you tell me who you are?” the village woman said. She spoke with a quiet, silvery voice. “I’d love to know more about you.”

What is she doing? Talking to herself like that… Is she mad?

481 frowned and pursed his lips together. Gingerly, he took a step forward, but before he could approach the target someone placed a hand on his shoulder. He glanced to his right and saw the Leader standing behind him, a finger held to her lips. 481 bowed his head and let her go on ahead without him.

“Stand up,” the Leader said, drawing her sword. Her eyes were fixed on the village woman, and her normally grey irises glowed an eerie white as the air around them drew still. “Your time is up, traitor. We’re taking you back to the Council.”

The village woman stood up, glancing at the moon before she turned to face the Leader. Her pale blue eyes remained impassive as a steely wind current wound its way over her body, immobilising her.

“I wondered how long it would take,” the villager said quietly. “Everywhere I go, he always seems to find me. Two years is a long time, though. Longer than I thought, but…. Never mind. We both know you won’t hold me for long.”

The Leader beckoned at 481. He hurried forward. “I know why you came to this village, traitor,” she said, her eyebrows narrowing. “I know you came back to be with your son, your grandchildren. We found them first.”

The woman’s expression changed instantly. Her eyes widened and she opened her mouth for a moment, swallowing and closing it quickly.

“Any sign of resistance, and they all die,” The Leader continued in a low voice. “Do I make myself clear?”

The woman nodded, all colour draining from her cheeks. The Leader smiled, glancing at 481 and jerking her head in the traitor’s direction.

“481, bind her please. Quickly.”

481 bowed, hurrying as fast as he could to the villager’s side. He pushed against the air like he was wading through a wall of mud, gritting his teeth. When he reached her, 481 took a thick metal chain from his belt and wound it around the woman’s bony wrists. He tightened them until the steel rings cut into her skin and she let out a gasp. Once she was chained, the air settled and the Leader’s eyes faded back into grey. She strode forward and grabbed the woman by the left elbow, while 481 held onto her right.

“Back to headquarters now,” she said shortly, jerking the woman forward so violently she and 481 almost lost their balance. “We will take a carriage back to the Fortress. Her family will be taken for questioning also, but they will not be killed unless she resists.”

481 nodded, gripping their captive’s arm tightly as they made their way back through the village. When he glanced up at the nearby buildings, he saw candles burning in the windows and the faces of many nonGifted peering down at them, their eyes wide and fearful. A few had even taken in to the streets, watching from the alleyways as the two Gifted marched the traitor through the village streets. When they reached the town square, 373 and 571 were standing beside a large carriage with two draft horses attached and a thrall siting in the driver’s seat. Another three horses were tied to a nearby fence post, saddled and ready to go. Two new Gifted women, who 481 presumed were the current supervisors of the village, stood beside a dark-haired, middle-aged man and two young children. The man’s brow was sweaty and his shoulders shook with every breath. The children cried silently, their arms wrapped around each other.

“Mother!” the man called as they approached, his voice cracking. Murmurs swept through the growing crowd as more nonGifted left their homes to watch the scene unfolding before them. “I – I’m sorry... They were holding a knife to Josie and I couldn’t –“

“It’s alright, Eddie,” the woman said quickly. “This is my fault. I shouldn’t have come back. Just – do as they say, and you’ll all be fine.”

“They should just let us go,” her son said hotly, his shoulders heaving as a tear ran down his cheek. “Gifted, please listen… My mother is harmless, truly. She – she just wanted to see her family again. Please, let her stay with us. She’s not hurting anyone. Please, just -”

“Don’t say anything,” the traitor interrupted, shaking her head as they reached the other Gifted. 373 stepped forward and yanked her arm away from 481’s grasp, and pushed her forcefully up the steps into the carriage. She craned her neck towards her son, gasping with pain as the Gifted man twisted her elbow. “Please Eddie, don’t fight them. I –“

Her words became muffled as 373 forced a cloth gag into her mouth, tying it so tightly behind her head that she groaned. The Leader stepped forward, her eyes narrowed into slits as she regarded the crowd. Fearful faces stared back at her. One girl in particular caught 481’s eye. A tall, thin, dark-haired teenager stood on top of the stone well’s wall, craning her neck for a better look. Her bright blue eyes shone through the dim moonlight, a wisp of tangled hair caught in her lip. 481 frowned. The longer he stared at her, the more he had a sense that they had met before.

“This woman is a traitor,” the Leader said, her voice cutting through the night air and distracting 481 from his musings. He blinked, clearing his throat, focusing his attention back on the Gifted woman.

“She deserted her duties in this village long ago for a different life,” the Leader continued, “a life of crime and treason. She ran from Gifted rule, but now that she’s decided she’d be more comfortable in one of our towns, she has returned and put every one of you in danger. She’s been stealing your hard-earned rations without lifting a finger to help. So we will be taking her and the traitors who harboured her, but the rest of you need not be harmed. Go back to your homes or I will arrest the whole village.”

The crowd went quiet. Pursing her lips, the Leader turned back to the carriage and climbed onto her bay gelding as rain started to fall again. A distant crack of thunder sounded as 481 hurried towards the traitor’s family, shivering and drawing his cloak closer to his body. 571 arrived first and placed her hands around the children’s shoulders. Gently, she started leading them towards the carriage. Their sobs intensified and the girl looked back and reached towards her father. The Gifted woman continued to lead them away, her face remaining impassive.

The man stared at his children, his jaw tense and his eyebrows knotted. He glanced at the woman holding him and raised his foot, kicking backwards into her shin. She swore and let him go, wincing and grabbing for her sword, her eyes flashing red. The man ran forward, yelling words that 481 thought must be his children’s names. The Gifted man acted quickly, running forward and raising his left hand to the sky. Rain drops settled against his palm hardened into an icy dagger. 481 grabbed for the man’s collar clumsily with his right hand and pressed the point firmly against the villager’s throat. The nonGifted man’s breath shuddered and the blade steamed where small beads of blood spilled over the edge.

“One wrong move…” 481 warned.

The man’s eyes were wide and shaking as he watched 373 and 571 loading his mother and children into the carriage. 481 pulled the man towards the door, wincing as stabbing pains shot up his arm the longer he clenched his crippled fingers.

I can do it. I can’t let them see me struggle.

Beads of sweat formed on his forehead as the man continued to struggle against him. He reached up and grabbed 481’s hands, twisting his wrists. 481 swore under his breath as his grip on the man’s collar loosened. Finally free, the nonGifted man slipped under 481’s right arm and wrestled the icy dagger from his grip. The man ran clumsily towards the carriage as gasps escaped from the crowd. 481 swore out loud and dashed towards his prisoner, his eyes flashing an icy blue.

My hand might be crippled, but I still have my Gift.

Water burst from the palms of his hand, snaking through the air and slipping under the nonGifted man’s feet as he ran. He slipped and stumbled while the wave grew more intense, pushing him back until he was pressed against the stone fence. The water hardened into a thick wall of ice. The man struggled against his bindings, yelling curses. 481 raised his sword with his left hand and shoved the steel blade into the man’s throat. Multiple villagers screamed as the traitor coughed, spraying blood all over 481’s face. Frowning, the Gifted man blinked and wiped the droplets away with the back of his sleeve and withdrew the sword, sheathing it without wiping away the blood.

“Dad, no… ” The male child’s voice through the night air, cracking on every syllable. 481 looked up and saw him and his sister staring at their father’s bleeding body, their cheeks white. The traitor woman was crying too, her sobs choking against the gag. She fell to her knees, her shoulders shaking. 373 forced her to her feet and pushed her and the children back into the carriage, slamming the door behind them.

“He was innocent!” a man’s voice cried, unidentifiable among the crowd. “You – you killed him. Eddie never hurt anyone!”

Multiple voices yelled in agreement. The rain intensified and 481 lifted his sword threateningly towards the crowd.

“Stay back!” 481 commanded, but the villagers continued to inch forward, many clenching their fists as though ready to jump forward and fight. 481’s eyes fell on the same girl he had spotted before. Her hair was wet and stringy, sticking to her cheeks, her shoulders shaking. She was staring at the man 481 had killed with wide eyes. Multiple men and women rushed past the teenager and threw themselves at the Gifted. 481 pushed them back with a wave of water, gritting his teeth and slashing his sword forward.

“Stop!”

The air around them swirled and roared, rain drops splattering in all directions. The dark-haired girl jumped behind the well to avoid the gust, but the rest of the villagers stumbled backwards. A wave of wind spiralled around the crowd, trapping them in a circle in the middle of the village square. The Leader jumped down from her horse and walked slowly towards the nonGifted villagers, her brow furrowed in concentration. Her eyes flashed and slowly, the villagers started to cough, falling to the ground and clutching at their throats.

“Stop now,” the Leader said, her eyes narrowing as the villagers gasped for air. “You have no chance against us.”

She turned away and climbed back onto her horse. She lifted her hood and kicked her horse’s sides. He trotted forward, whinnying nervously while the air grew still again in his mistress’ wake. Breathing in deeply, the villagers slowly started to pick themselves up from the ground, their faces flushed. The dark-haired girl peeked her head over the top of the well, her face pale. She caught 481’s eye briefly before she turned and ran away, her boots slipping against the slick wet cobblestones. 481 glanced at 373, who was staring at the Leader’s retreating figure, his dark eyes wide.

“I…” he began, his voice hoarse. “I – I’ve never seen a Gift of Air with that kind of power. She… she truly is our Leader.”

481 nodded wordlessly, his throat too tight to speak. 373 opened the carriage door and stepped inside while 571 mounted her horse. 481 bowed his head towards the village Gifted, who were covering the traitor’s son with a woven sheet, and turned back towards his own mare. As he did so, a gust of wind blew around his head, even though the rain was falling in the opposite direction.

What was that? Is someone singing?

He frowned, straining his ears against the heavy rain. A gentle, mournful tune seemed to follow the wind, fading out as quickly as it appeared. He glanced up, wondering if 571 had heard it too, but she and the carriage had already left. Shaking his head, 481 mounted his horse and set off at a fast trot.

It was nothing. I’m just tired, clearly.

481 lifted his hood and urged his horse forward through the thundering rain. He closed his eyes, trying to picture the warm bed and fire waiting for him at the Fortress, but all he could see was a face in the wind.