La Mort’s men were in hot pursuit of the Zoronian people. They tread the beaten rocky path as they entered the mountain, but as they kept marching forward there were no signs of them.

  “Are you sure they went this way?” said one of the smaller soldiers. “Maybe your scanner got it wrong, there is no trace of them anywhere.”

  The soldier leading the pack stopped abruptly, his back still to the men as the rest of them came to a halting stop. “What you’re implying, soldier, is that our scientists — the best minds this galaxy has, the ones La Mort—our king—hand-picked — created malfunctioning gear.”

  The smaller soldier, realising how his words were being portrayed, gulped hard, sweat dripping from his head. He looked around at all of the men, but their eyes wandered elsewhere; they weren't about to be drawn into this.

  The soldier leading the pack continued to walk again, picking up his pace in pursuit of the group.

  “I didn’t mean any offence, sir, nor to imply our king was at fault or our scientists’, I just simply meant—”

  The soldier leading the pack rose a solitary finger, commanding silence, and the smaller soldier stopped speaking immediately.

  “See, men,” the soldier leading the pack said as he leant down, picking up a piece of clothing one of the Zoronians shed, and raised it high in the air for everyone to see.

  “See, men, we’re hot on their trails. It won’t be long before we catch up to them, and when we bring them to King La Mort, it will be us gathered here who will be promoted.”

  The men marched forward, as did the Zoronian people, but as time went on the gap between the two groups started to close.

  “There they are!” shouted one of the soldiers, looking up. The Zoronian people were above them — women, children, and the elderly.

  “What did I tell you, men? It won’t be long before this is over,” the soldier leading the pack said.

  But if the men were looking to use the element of surprise as a blanket of complacency, his soldier put an end to that, killing the plan before it gathered legs.

  “Oii!” he screamed. “Get back here!”

  The soldier leading the pack immediately spun on his heel and charged toward the man. Grabbing him by the armour, he shook him three times bluntly before addressing him.

  Keylah looked down over her shoulder and that’s when her heart dropped. “They’re here!” she shouted. And with that cry, the entire pack looked over their shoulders and down at La Mort’s men. Panic in their hearts, they all ran as fast as they could.

  “Look—now they’ve made a run for it. The gap we worked so hard to close has widened again. It’s like you want them to escape.”

  “No—I… you’re right, I should have used my head. I’m sorry,” the soldier said, lowering his head in embarrassment towards his mission leader.

  “Raise your head. We may have given away the element of surprise, but we learnt something we can use to our advantage. They have elderly men—women, children, and women strapped with children to their backs. They won’t get too far running. Eventually their legs will betray their minds, and when that happens, men—we will be there waiting.”

  He patted his comrade on the chest, then carried on the march forward, deeper into the mountains.

  The Zoronians continued to run, refusing to look back, refusing to give in to the blood that flooded their muscles, making each step forward feel like they were carrying someone.

  “Mommy,” cried out one of the Zoronian children, looking at his mother with tears in his eyes. “I can't run anymore, Mommy.”

  His mother looked into her son's eyes and she could see the pain and sorrow. She didn’t need to ask anything else. She reached down to pick up her son, trying her best to hide her own pain from him.

  An onlooker was eavesdropping on the conversation and walked over to the pair. “I’ll carry him,” the man said with unwavering confidence.

  The mother stood tall, her head turning to the man, struggling to hold back her tears. “Are you sure? I can’t let you do that.”

  “You can and you will,” he responded. “We need to keep moving as fast as we can, and you carrying your son is only going to slow us all down. We stand united. General Kantaos’ sacrifice so we can all live extends to us all. So come on, get moving — I’ll be right behind you.”

  Without another word, the man picked up the boy and they all carried on running.

  La Mort’s soldiers kept a brutal pace. Where they were used to subjecting their bodies to brutal torture, the Zoronian people were not, and they shed whatever excess weight they could get rid of along the way.

  “You see, men, they’ve shed clothes, bags — the fatigue is catching up to them,” the soldier leading the pack said. “Let’s pick up the pace, we’re close to breaking them, I can feel it.”

  And breaking them they were. Their legs slowed, shoulders slumped, eyes squinting. Through gritted teeth, their bodies were breaking.

  “Keylah!” one of the women shouted as every part of their bodies burned. “How much further?”

  “Not much further — it’s just up here.”

  “I don’t think I can go on,” said another, struggling to breathe. Her heart hammered in her chest as she looked up to the sky above, crying out for help from her ancestors as others dropped down around her.

  “We have to keep moving. Do not let your minds limit you. Let your will to live take over. Now get up! And follow me!” Keylah said, inspiring her people.

  The fallen rose. The ones mentally broken put the picture back together, and the ones who couldn’t go on found another gear and continued to run.

  They had nothing left but sheer will and determination. They ran and ran until they arrived at the top of the mountain.

  Their mouths carved from corner to corner in glorious smiles. Their eyes drifted shut as they exhaled a trembling sigh of relief, tears flooding their cheeks as they breathed in the cold mountain air.

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  They made it.

  It was cloudy, dark — the plumes of dust from the mountain shrouded the two ships. As they looked on, they couldn’t see the ships. Their eyes widened in horror. Some held their hands over their gaping mouths while others stood trembling in disbelief.

  And that moment of gratification quickly turned upside down.

  “Keylah… where are the ships?” one of the women asked nervously, her fingers trembling as she struggled to hold it together.

  But Keylah was at a loss — she couldn’t see the ships either.

  Did I get the wrong mountain? she thought to herself. No—there’s no way. We’ve gone over this plan for years. In case of an emergency, head to Frost Point Mountain and there two ships will be waiting.

  Keylah simply couldn’t understand. She stood in sheer denial, her hands sliding down her face; she was at a loss with no answers.

  But as the wind continued to blow, the silver of the ship began to gleam in the darkness.

  “Keylah—Keylah, the ships! They’re here!” shouted one of the men.

  Keylah’s hands dropped from her face, just about catching the man as he disappeared into the shadows.

  She stood there, brow raised. Moments passed and there was nothing—nothing but silence.

  Then the ship shot to life, light blaring through the shadows as if the man was waking the ship from a long slumber, its model revealing itself piece by piece.

  Everyone began to smile once more. Their smiles, robbed by the darkness, were returned by the light.

  But as they all headed toward the ships, the man who entered the shadows started to walk back slowly, hands raised in the air, and as he got closer so did the shapes of silhouettes behind him.

  The Zoronian people halted their forward momentum, faces scrunched, eyes squinting with confusion as their man walked forward.

  But their confusion didn’t last long.

  Red laser dots landed on the Zoronian people from the shadows as La Mort’s men emerged, a gun pressed tightly against the Zoronian man’s back.

  La Mort’s men carried wicked smiles.

  The Zoronian people’s hands were raised, defeat all but guaranteed. But Keylah made one last attempt to appeal to the soldiers.

  She walked forward, thermal dot locked in the centre of her forehead.

  “You don’t have to do this. You don’t have to listen to him. Look deep into your hearts and have mercy. There are children who are yet to live their lives, elderly who pose no threat to any of you. Just turn your backs and let us go. La Mort would never find out,” she said.

  The soldiers looked at each other before bursting into hysterical laughter.

  “Listen, lady,” said the man leading the pack, his gun still jammed into the back of the Zoronian man. “You’re appealing to the wrong soldiers if you think we give a damn about your people. Even if the order never came down from La Mort to capture you, I’d kill you merely for the sport. Him giving us orders to capture, not kill, stops us from rending your souls from your bodies. What a treat that would be — watching your eyes roll back one last time as your body shuts off. But nonetheless, we will still take great pleasure in watching La Mort slaughter you all,” he said calmly.

  “But what’s one dead Zoronian?” he said wickedly, opening fire and tearing a hole through his body.

  The Zoronian man dropped to the floor and screams erupted into the air, sending all the Zoronians into a frenzy.

  As the men moved forward to grab a hold of the escapees to bring them to La Mort, Ezra landed in front of them — the last line between them and the Zoronian people.

  “Stop this madness now,” he commanded. “Turn around and go back to my father.”

  The men looked at each other once more, their faces scrunched in confusion before curling over, clutching their stomachs as they laughed uncontrollably.

  As the men straightened, they looked Ezra dead in his eyes.

  “We don’t take orders from you, little boy. There’s only one man we take orders from, and that man gave us a direct order to bring these people that stand behind you to him. So you either move out the way, or we’ll move you by force. The choice is yours,” said the soldier leading the pack.

  “No. Over my dead body. I won’t stand by and let you take those innocent people to my father to be lambs to the slaughter. I simply won’t allow it!!” he screamed as his eyes turned bright blue.

  The skies began to darken as thunder and lightning raged across the sky.

  La Mort and Cane turned and looked at each other and uttered only one word in unison—

  “Ezra.”

  The general was knelt before La Mort and Cane. Defeated, no fight left within him, his people scattered across the battlefield as his mouth dripped with blood.

  But La Mort’s and Cane’s faces were enough to spark a moment of joy from one of sorrow across the general’s face, as his mouth carved at the corner into a thankful but patronising smile.

  “Remind me to thank Ezra when I see him,” the general said, switching between laughter and rasping on his own blood.

  The ground beneath Ezra started to shake, chipping away as pieces of the earth were pulled from the ground.

  Bzzzzt. Tzz-tzz-tzz. Electric sparks danced across his skin as he gave the men one final warning.

  “Stand down. I do not want to hurt you,” he pleaded, but his pleas fell on deaf ears.

  “You were warned, Ezra,” he said, completely disregarding Ezra’s words.

  With two flicks of his fingers, the men moved in.

  As they charged in, small jagged pieces from the ground shot straight through the first waves’ necks, causing the line behind to come to a halting stop as their blood sprayed on their faces before they dropped to their knees and collapsed into the ground.

  The soldiers looked at each other, hesitant for a moment, then began to charge forward.

  Fire began to swirl around Ezra’s body until a ball of fire lay perfectly in the centre of his hand. Ezra launched the fireball, then again and again. Every time the men tried to dodge, but their efforts were rendered futile.

  Their screams echoed through the mountain as they all rolled in agony trying to douse their burning bodies across the mountaintop floor.

  The soldier leading the pack felt his body freezing on him. Every step felt heavier than the last. His heart rattled violently against his ribs, and his vision smeared as he scanned the cemetery of bodies built up in front of him — men he had entered countless battles with now lay lifeless, sprawled across the rough mountain terrain.

  Dead… or well on their way.

  A shiver slithered down his spine and his instincts for survival immediately kicked in.

  Shaking his head from side to side repeatedly, he spun on his heel and ran back in the direction he came from as fast as he could, his boots hammering against the mountain terrain as he dared not look back.

  I’m not sticking around to die on this god-forsaken mountain, he told himself, his teeth grinding with every step. Let Ezra face the king’s wrath. Let’s see how confident he is then.

  A small smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth until it was a big one.

  The soldier slipped into the shadows and disappeared, carrying with him a message that would have grave consequences for Ezra.

  Ezra turned to the Zoronian people, exhaling slowly as he did.

  “Are you all okay?” he asked.

  His face was full of confidence on the surface, but the layer just beneath housed his fear — he was petrified.

  “Ezra… why?” Keylah stepped forward, her eyebrows pulled together. Her mouth lay slightly open as she looked at him.

  “Because it was the right thing to do,” he replied. “There’s been too much blood spilled across this galaxy, and I’ve done nothing but stand by as it was spilled. They may have done the deed, but my hands are still stained with their blood nonetheless. I can’t stand by any longer and watch my father slaughter more innocent people. My dreams have been stolen long enough. Maybe now I will have a moment’s peace up here,” he said as his finger jabbed at the side of his head.

  “But that soldier — he’s on his way back to your father,” Keylah warned. “Once your father hears what happened here—”

  “Let me worry about my father,” Ezra cut in calmly. “And you focus on getting your people to safety.”

  Keylah and the rest of her people stared at him for long — a silent acknowledgment of their gratitude toward him.

  “Thank you. Maybe you truly are this galaxy’s last hope in its fight for freedom.” She placed a steadying hand on Ezra’s shoulder. “And remember, Ezra — if you ever need us, look beyond the largest star. You’ll find us there.”

  The Zoronian people headed into the ships and fired them up. Everyone came to the windows — it was their final chance to say goodbye to a home they would never see again, and to say goodbye to a boy courageous enough to fight for what’s right.

  Ezra stood there watching on as the Zoronian ships lifted into the air, the fire blazing from their thrusters as they shot through the sky.

  Good luck, my friend, Keylah thought to herself. You’re going to need it.

  And with that, they were gone.

  As he stood there, something changed inside him — something was born that day. What was once a bright spark was transformed into a storm, born from the knowledge he finally made a difference.

  A storm he vowed he would never let die.