Planet Volara. Zorvan Colony Sector 47.

  The air was thick with the stench of rust and despair.

  Volara wasn’t Earth. It wasn’t even a shadow of it. What had once been a vibrant planet filled with untapped resources was now a dying wasteland. Stripped bare by the Zorvans, it had become nothing more than a prison for the broken remnants of humanity.

  Rayen stood at the edge of Sector 47, his young frame barely able to carry the weight of the metal scraps he had been gathering all day. His clothes — a tattered patchwork of rough fabric and synthetic fibers — clung to his thin body, drenched in sweat. His hands, cracked and blistered from hours of labor, trembled as he shifted the load on his shoulder.

  “Move faster, boy!”

  The bark of a Zorvan guard echoed through the dusty air, followed by the sharp crack of an energy whip. Rayen didn’t flinch. The pain was familiar — a constant companion in this place. But he had learned long ago that fear was weakness, and weakness… was fatal.

  But Rayen’s mind was never idle.

  Even as his body obeyed, his sharp eyes scanned the camp, taking in every detail — every pattern, every flaw.

  ?? Rayen’s Observations

  ?

  Sector 5: Lightly guarded during meal shifts.

  ?

  Sector 3: A faulty energy fence that flickered unpredictably.

  ?

  The guards? Growing complacent.

  Rayen stored these observations in the back of his mind, a silent arsenal for a future he couldn’t yet see but instinctively knew would come.

  “You think too much.”

  The gruff voice of Kaelen pulled Rayen from his thoughts.

  Kaelen was a relic of a forgotten time. His body was worn and scarred, his eyes heavy with the weight of a thousand memories. But beneath the surface, Rayen sensed something… more. A sharpness. A strength that defied his worn exterior.

  “Thinking keeps me alive,” Rayen murmured, barely above a whisper.

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  Kaelen’s lips curled into a faint, knowing smile. “A dangerous habit in a place like this.”

  ?? The Incident: A Moment That Changed Everything

  The sun was beginning to set, casting a dull orange glow over the slave encampment. Rayen was on his way back to the barracks when it happened.

  A young boy, barely six years old, stumbled under the weight of a load far too heavy for his small frame. His frail legs buckled, and the scraps clattered to the ground.

  “Get up.”

  The guard’s voice was cold, devoid of mercy.

  But the boy couldn’t move. His body was too weak. His eyes, wide with fear, searched the faces around him for help.

  “I said… get up.”

  The guard’s whip cracked through the air.

  Rayen felt something stir inside him — a storm raging against the chains of logic. He knew what would happen if he interfered. Punishment was swift and brutal. But his body moved before his mind could stop him.

  “Enough.”

  Rayen stepped forward, his voice steady but his heart pounding. He placed himself between the guard and the boy, his small frame acting as a shield.

  The guard’s eyes narrowed, his grip tightening on the whip. “You dare?”

  Rayen didn’t speak. His jaw clenched, his body tense, but his gaze remained steady. Unyielding.

  “Move aside.”

  Rayen’s mind screamed at him to step back, but his heart refused.

  “I won’t.”

  The guard raised the whip, ready to strike — but then…

  “That’s enough.”

  Kaelen’s voice cut through the tension like a blade.

  The guard’s whip halted mid-air. His gaze shifted to Kaelen, who had stepped forward, his eyes calm but filled with silent authority.

  “You don’t want to do this,” Kaelen said softly, his tone laced with a quiet warning.

  The guard hesitated. A beat too long.

  “Fine,” the guard growled, lowering the whip. “But next time… he pays.”

  Rayen’s heart pounded in his ears, but he didn’t move until the guard was gone. Only then did he feel the boy’s trembling hand clutching his shirt.

  “Thank you…” the boy whispered, his voice barely audible.

  Rayen’s fingers clenched into fists at his sides. “It’s not over yet,” he murmured, his gaze drifting toward the horizon.

  ?? Kaelen’s Lesson: Control the Storm Within

  That night, after the camp fell into an uneasy silence, Rayen found Kaelen waiting near the edge of the barracks.

  “That was reckless.”

  Kaelen’s voice was calm, but his eyes held a storm of emotions.

  Rayen looked down, his jaw clenched. “I couldn’t let him—”

  “I know.” Kaelen’s voice softened. “But emotion clouds judgment, Rayen.”

  Rayen’s fists tightened. “What was I supposed to do? Just… let it happen?”

  “No.” Kaelen’s gaze met his. “But there’s a difference between acting with instinct… and acting with control.”

  “How do I control it?”

  Kaelen’s expression grew distant, as if reliving something from long ago. “By mastering yourself.”

  ?? Foreshadowing: Kaelen’s Hidden Identity

  Kaelen rarely spoke about his past.

  Rayen had asked once, but Kaelen’s response had been a cryptic, “Some stories are better left buried.”

  But tonight… Rayen sensed something different.

  “Where did you learn all this?” Rayen asked softly.

  Kaelen’s gaze lingered on the stars. “From a time… when men believed they could fight back.”

  Rayen’s brows furrowed. “And did they?”

  Kaelen’s silence was answer enough.

  ?? Rayen’s Silent Resolve

  As the stars glittered above, Rayen’s mind raced with Kaelen’s words.

  “Control your emotions.”

  The lesson was etched into his soul. But as Rayen clenched his fists, a quiet promise echoed in his heart.

  “One day… I’ll break these chains.”

  The universe didn’t respond.

  But Rayen…

  He wasn’t asking for

  permission.