Verona sat on a muddy chair, her hands clasped together and resting on a cracked table. Surrounding her are all people who have been slaves in the past that have escaped that life. Together, they’ve found a new home with each other.

  A shining ruby sat on the table, a fiery heartbeat inside of it, burning and struggling to escape from its confined. Verona stared at its shine with a lust in her eyes.

  “Do it again,” one of the ex-slaves said.

  Verona closed her eyes and the rhythm of the heartbeat filled her mind. She’d discovered why the guards wanted to protect her all of a sudden. Well, not the guard, more like the higher ups. Something unique she’s never seen before. She didn’t believe it at first when it happened, but gradually learned to accept it over the next couple of days.

  Someone with the abilities she had are dangerous. The king killed or enslaved people like those. Most of the ex-slaves recognizes that and are acting particularly overprotective of Verona.

  She Absorbed in the essence and let its fire come alight within her body. She opened her eyes and could swear her pupils changed colors.

  There were oohs and ahhs coming from the ex-slaves, even though she hasn’t done anything yet. That confirms it. She stared at herself in a puddle of water to gaze upon her reflection.

  In the couple of days she’s been with these people, she’s grown a bit. Her face had more substance to it, and her bruises were beginning to heal. In such a short time too! But the most striking feature of her face, however, were the eyes. She’d been right. They came alight with little tiny fireballs circling within them, swirling masses of flame spinning around.

  As the essence raged inside of her, the words came to mind, as they always did. Fire. Rage. Power. With a snap of a finger, she expended some of the gem’s essence and a tiny flame burned at the tip of her finger.

  That fire would be hot to anyone else that came into contact with it, but not her. The warmth of it enveloped her finger, but never hot enough to leave any burns.

  “Fascinating,” Siva said, staring at the tiny flame, completely engrossed by it. “Should we test this out on other gemstones?”

  Oh right. There had been other gemstones as well. Did each one give off a different power? She remembered back in the gem mines that each one was distinct. Not in physical appearance, but how it resonated to her. She didn’t notice it at the time, but now, cursed herself for not heeding it.

  What other things could she do with them?

  “Do you guys have any other gemstones?” Verona asked.

  One of the ex-slaves whom she didn’t learn their names just laughed. “If we did, then we wouldn’t be holed down here, hunting every day for food. We’d sell that thing in a heartbeat.”

  Verona snatched her ruby from the table and held it close to her chest.

  “Well, except for yours, of course,” the ex-slave quickly corrected himself.

  “Now that we have someone like you among us, cooking will sure be easier,” Siva said. “Be ready to go hunting in an hour and we’ll see what it can really do.”

  In the three days she’s been with them down there, she hasn’t gone hunting once. It was mainly Siva teaching her how to use her spear. She’s gotten down some basic forms, but beyond that, she hasn’t had any real targets to test her skills on. And now that Siva was inviting her out for a hunt, a rush of excitement traveled through her.

  She quickly dashed and grabbed her spear and was the first one ready to move out. They usually didn’t take too many out at a time, maybe three or four at most. The more they had with them, the greater risk of being caught was.

  Of course, everyone but Verona on the expedition wore their armor. Verona came to learn that the ex-slaves had to do anything to survive. And to survive the outside world, they managed to capture a couple of poor soldiers wandering out in the countryside and take their protective gear.

  Verona wondered what happened to the soldiers, but the ex-slaves showed reluctance in talking about it, so she assumed the worst.

  Verona passed up on the armor; she was the only one without a slave brand so she really didn’t need to hide her face.

  Except, Siva forced one on her. Verona had told him about the encounter with Lord Demarian the last day she’d been in the mines, and that more than convinced him she needed one. What if her face was plastered on posters all throughout the country and would be recognized easily?

  Siva led the expedition this time. She’s come to learn that there were about three teams of four that hunted and gathered to support all of the cavern. Siva, Chatham, and an ex-slave named Kirith formed a team. Before Verona, they were the only team of three.

  The three teams rotated every day, taking turns going into the outside world. Each day was a different team, and since it’s been three days, it rotated back to Siva’s team.

  She became familiar with some of the ex-slaves living there. All she had to do in the days of rest was eat, sleep, and talk. She learned some of their names, how they came to be slaves, and the relationship structure of the little bunker.

  She made sure to bring her ruby with her. She brushed against the essence with her mind, feeling it and making sure there was plenty before she stuffed it into her pocket.

  “I’m ready,” she said, ecstatic to finally get out of the hole.

  Siva noticed her enthusiasm and rushed Chatham and Kirith.

  She also talked more to Chatham and got to know him a little bit better. He was a kind man who didn’t deserve to be in this position. He gave her pretty much all of her food even though sometimes lacked in his own portion.

  Kirith was quiet. She barely saw the man talk to anyone else and seemed to always do his own thing. She was nervous for this hunt, as it’d be her first. Hopefully first of many.

  Siva used a shovel and opened the entrance, letting soft moonlight through. When he helped all three of them out of the hole, he used their hidden shovel to recreate the mound of dirt.

  They rarely hunted during the night, but seeing as it was Verona’s first time, that’d be the safer option. The moon glowed softly high up above, casting a light shadow on those who strode under its grace.

  During her time as a slave, they told each other stories to one another as a form of escape from the cruel world. One of the stories she vividly remembers is why the moon shined randomly during different nights. Sometimes, she was as bright as the sun, and others, her presence was barely noticeable. According to the story, it was because the moon fought vigorously against the sun to take dominance in the sky, and each night, when she rose, it’s because she’d won the fight and the sun had to rest. Her glow, however, was related to how tired the battle made her.

  In hindsight, that legend made no sense whatsoever. Verona doesn’t even know why she kept that knowledge close to her. Perhaps it was because that was one of the only times she was included with the slaves and they made her feel wanted. She didn’t need to beg to be included anymore, now that she found this group of people.

  “Up ahead,” Siva said, interrupting her train of thought. He pointed an armored finger up ahead, and several hundred meters, she saw… a boulder.

  “A scuttle!” Chathan exclaimed. “We’re going to eat good tomorrow morning, aren’t we?”

  “We have to take it down first,” Kirith said.

  “Don’t worry, you can leave that to Verona,” Siva chimed in. All three heads turned and glanced towards her. She held her spear nervously.

  “Go on, you can do it,” Siva said.

  The scuttle, which was a creature that looked like a rock but only used it as a shell, moved along the ground. Slowly. Leaving a trail of slime as it trudged.

  Verona breathed in and out, her nervousness taking a hold of her. If only there was some gemstone out there that gave a sense of calm instead of anger.

  “Just go for it,” Chatham encouraged. “What’s the worst that can happen? We’ll be here with you every step of the way.”

  Verona appreciated Siva and Chatham a lot. Through the short time she’s known them, they’ve shown her nothing but encouragement and kindness.

  She put on her brave face, took a stance that Siva taught her, and charged the scuttle. She ran with her hand gripped on the shaft of the spear, the weapon tucker under her armpit, the tip pointing towards where she ran.

  The scuttle moved, dragging dirt in its wake, turning and turning ever so slowly, until it noticed Verona coming up to it.

  It let out a roar of shock. Verona leapt towards it, plunging the spear straight for its head. Then the head vanished, retracted underneath the boulder of a shell.

  From behind her, the sound of Siva laughing echoed through the night.

  Chatham walked up to the creature, holding a mallet in his right hand, twirling it around. “Silly, how are you supposed to crack the shell with a weapon like a spear?” he said. “Siva should have taught you how to use a hammer instead!”

  He swung the mallet, slamming it against the rock. A tiny crack formed. Then another swing. And another. And another.

  All the while, the scuttle let out yelps of pain.

  “Stop, you’re hurting it,” Verona said.

  At that, all three of them turned to Verona. Siva took off his helmet, bearing a look of confusion. “How do you expect to eat something without harming it first?” he said. He put the helmet back on and nodded to Chatham to continue swinging at it.

  Verona bowed her head in shame.

  “Hey listen,” Siva said, kneeling down to make eye contact with her through the helmet’s slits. “This is just the way of the world. I know you don’t like it, being on the short end of the stick for most of your life, but this is something that never changes. The way this world works is that the strong always come out on top while the weak gets preyed upon. It’s how this country was built, and it’s how you ended up as a slave, and now, it’s how we’re going to survive.”

  Verona didn’t say anything. She didn’t expect watching another creature suffer like this would be that awful. In a way, she saw herself as the scuttle. All those years, pickaxe in hand, stripping away at rock.

  The slam of the mallet reminded of when she would be whipped for taking more than her fair share of rations.

  The creature yelping reminded her of when her muscles gave out one day and she collapsed, only to wake up to more beatings.

  Tears formed at the corner of her eyes. She didn’t know whether to feel pity at the creature for having to go through such a thing or if she should be glad that… it’s no longer her. For the first time in her life, she would be a part of the strong, the group that can actually make a difference.

  The mallet slammed one more time and the shell shattered completely, revealing a slug like creature on the interior.

  Its eyes were long and slimy, and disproportionate to the rest of its body. When it noticed its shell shattered, it began crawling away desperately, leaving a darker trail as it slithered.

  Chatham turned to Verona and gave her an encouraging nod. The creature didn’t move more than a meter a second. Verona had all the time in the world.

  She clutched her spear and closed her eyes. She regretted coming on the hunt. True, she’d wanted to start contributing to the bunker of ex-slaves, but when faced with something like this, it proved to be more difficult than she realized.

  She breathed in and out. In and out. Then charged. She raised her spear high above her head with both hands, and slammed it right where she thought the neck of the large slug-like creature would be.

  A black liquid oozed out from where she stabbed, some of it splashing onto her skin and more of it getting onto her armor. The scuttle twitched then went limp. She moved to look at it from the front and saw its eyes closed.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered to it, tears running down her eyes. Seeing the creature like this…

  If Justicar hadn’t come that day and freed her, she might be in the same position as this creature. How naive of her to think she was strong. She’d had the abilities she recently discovered all the way back in the mines, and back then, she was still a weakling. She was never strong. She’d just been lucky.

  Siva gave her a pat on the shoulder. “Nicely done,” he spoke. They went to work harvesting the parts of the scuttle. Verona just stood and watched, her armor and tip of her spear stained with the black ooze.

  She was glad Siva forced her to wear the armor. That way, no one could see the tears flowing from her face.