Chapter 3: A Spark of Rebellion
Kevron POV
Kevron was seven again.
The sun was warm over Aurion, painting the hills in gold. His mother laughed as she chased his little sister through the tall grass outside their small home. The air smelled of fresh bread and wildflowers.
"Kevron!" his sister squealed. "You're too slow!"
He grinned and ran after her.
For a moment, everything was perfect.
Then he smelled smoke.
At first it was faint, buried beneath the scent of earth and summer. Then came the screams.
A warrior in bronze armor burst through the village path, his face pale beneath the soot.
"Evacuate the children!" he shouted. "Go to the shelters! Be quick—leave everything!"
His mother froze.
"What's happening?" she cried.
"The Veyrath Dominion," the warrior said, terror in his voice. "Those damned magicians have finally come—"
The rest of his words died in his throat.
A sword burst through the back of his neck.
Blood sprayed across the grass.
Kevron's sister screamed.
The warrior collapsed, and standing behind him was a Dominion soldier in silver armor, calmly wiping his blade clean.
"Area secured," the soldier said.
More men entered the village. Behind them walked a tall man in dark blue robes trimmed with silver. Lightning crackled faintly between his fingers.
The magician.
He looked over the villagers as if they were livestock in a market.
Then his eyes settled on Kevron.
"Take the boy as a slave," the magician said. "He looks tall and strong for his age."
The soldier grabbed Kevron by the arm.
"How old are you, boy?" the magician asked.
Kevron glared at him, saying nothing.
The magician smiled.
"Oh? Silent?" He chuckled softly. "I do enjoy defiance."
He raised a hand toward Kevron's mother.
Lightning exploded from his fingertips.
His mother barely managed to throw herself aside as the bolt struck the ground beside her, leaving the earth black and smoking.
"I won't ask again," the magician said.
Kevron's heart pounded.
"My name is Kevron," he said quickly. "I'm seven namedays."
"Good," the magician said. "And I am Luxian."
He stepped closer, looking down at Kevron.
"You all belong to the Dominion now."
Luxian glanced toward Kevron's mother and sister.
"I have no need for a male slave," he said. "But I will take the two females."
Kevron lunged forward.
"No!"
The soldier slammed him to the ground.
"Send him to the Veyrra family," Luxian said carelessly. "Consider him my gift."
As the soldiers dragged him away, Kevron twisted to look back.
His mother was being held by two soldiers. His little sister clung to her dress, crying.
His mother met his eyes.
"Survive, my precious boy," she whispered.
Then the dream shattered.
⸻
Kevron bolted upright in bed, chest heaving.
Sweat soaked his skin.
The darkness of the slave quarters surrounded him, broken only by thin strips of dawn slipping through the cracked stone window.
"Twelve years," he muttered, pressing a hand to his face. "Twelve years and I still have that nightmare."
A cheerful voice cut through the room.
"You ready to face the day?"
Kevron looked up.
Michael stood in the doorway, carrying a bucket of water and smiling like the world had never done him wrong.
He was younger than Kevron by two years, with sandy brown hair and far too much optimism for a slave.
Kevron frowned.
"I've never met a slave as happy as you are, Michael."
Michael shrugged.
"We're alive, aren't we?" he said. "That means we still have a chance. So stop brooding."
Kevron snorted.
"You make it sound simple."
"It is simple," Michael said with a grin. "Seize the day."
Kevron rolled his eyes and grabbed the bucket.
He poured the water over his head.
His black hair fell in wet war-locks around his face and shoulders. At nineteen, he had grown tall and lean, his body hardened by years of labor. Even the Dominion nobles had started to notice.
Too tall. Too strong.
Too dangerous.
"I'm ready," Kevron muttered.
The slave quarters were already alive with movement by the time they stepped outside. Slaves hurried through the halls carrying trays, cleaning supplies, crates, and bundles of cloth.
Kevron caught sight of Omena, one of the older female slaves, rushing past with her eyes lowered.
"What's going on?" he asked.
She hesitated, glancing around to make sure no overseers were near.
"There's a meeting today," she whispered. "Most of the senators and family leaders are coming."
"A meeting?"
She nodded.
"I heard my lady speaking. They're planning something. A war."
Kevron sighed bitterly.
"Who else are they going to conquer?"
But Omena shook her head.
"I don't think it will be easy this time," she said quietly. "I heard her say the Draknia Empire stands on equal footing with the Dominion."
Kevron froze.
The Draknia Empire.
He had heard stories. A land of dragon riders and great houses. The only nation strong enough to rival Veyrath.
His mind raced.
If there was war...
If the Dominion fought someone powerful...
Then maybe—
"We could be free," he whispered.
Before Omena could answer, a sharp voice rang through the hall.
"Slave!"
Kevron turned.
Valex Veyrra stood at the end of the corridor.
He was only a few years older than Kevron, dressed in blue robes embroidered with silver lightning. Handsome in the cruel way many nobles were. Arrogance dripped from every word he spoke.
"My father said you are to serve in the war room."
"Yes, sir," Kevron said flatly.
Valex stepped closer, looking him up and down.
"You're quite tall for a slave."
Kevron said nothing.
"I don't like the way you look down at me," Valex snapped. "Kneel. Now."
Kevron immediately dropped to one knee.
Inside, his thoughts were cold.
One day, I will kill you all.
"Good," Valex said with a satisfied smile. "Now go before I decide you're late."
As Kevron stood, Valex casually slashed another passing slave across the arm with a small knife.
The girl gasped in pain and hurried away.
Valex laughed.
Kevron clenched his jaw and kept walking.
⸻
The war room was unlike any place in the estate.
Books lined the walls from floor to ceiling. Maps covered the stone walls—maps of kingdoms, rivers, mountain passes, and borders. In the center of the room stood a massive round table carved from black wood, its surface inlaid with blue and white gemstones that formed the shape of the continent.
Three other slaves stood along the walls with wine and food.
Kevron took his place beside them.
Then the nobles arrived.
Three of the five ruling families of the Dominion were present.