The next morning, the mine was boiling with rumors. Brakk was found unconscious, ribs shattered, his mind broken. He mumbled about shadows that moved like snakes and a slave who vanished before his eyes.
No one believed him.
Slaves didn't fight back. They didn't escape.
And they sure as hell didn't use magic.
But Worm — still pretending to be just another broken soul — kept his head down. Inwardly, he tested the limits of his newfound power.
In the darkness of his cage, he discovered he could hear things others couldn't — the whispers of shadows brushing against walls, the sigh of footsteps approaching from yards away, the flutter of fear in a guard's heartbeat.
More than that, he could vanish.
Not completely. Not yet. But when he focused, the shadows bent around him, cloaking his form for seconds at a time.
It was exhilarating. Dangerous.
Powerful.
He wasn't ready to run just yet. Not until he knew what this power was. Not until he could control it.
That night, as the slaves were herded into the pit, he found himself staring at the outer wall — the spiked gates beyond which lay the world. Freedom. Uncertainty. Vengeance.
And a whisper coiled in his mind like silk-wrapped steel.
You were not chosen to hide, the voice from the throne said. You were chosen to rule.
Worm clenched his fists. Shadows curled around them like smoke.
Chains still bound his ankles, but his mind was no longer caged.
Soon, he thought. Very soon.