realizing he will only kill himself in the process.
I use his hesitation to my advantage. I leap off the ground and hit him with a high swing kick, his blade clattering to the floor. One more kick to keep him down, and then I swipe the blade from the floor.
I approach the heaving, panting beast as more guards enter the room and I bring the blade straight down, through the piken’s skull.
Dead in an instant.
The guards swarm around me and drag me out of the cell. I am dazed but happy.
No mercy.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
I have come to appreciate the tiny differences in the food they serve me. It’s always the same gray slop, some protein and wheat blended into a paste and ladled onto my serving tray. But sometimes it is made with more water and less wheat, more wheat and less protein, etc.
Today is a heavy protein day. I swallow it down without joy but with some gratitude: my muscles still hurt from my battle with the piken and the guard, and I figure the protein will do me good.
I take my last bite and back into the corner.
It is dark in my cell, but there is just enough light from the foodslot that I can see my feet, and my hands, and my food tray.
Except today I can’t see my hand. I can see my left one, but not my right one.
It has taken a long time to hone my vision to this state of sensitivity in the dark, so I’m furious at its failure. I wave my right hand in front of my face, twisting it left and right in my sleeve. But still all I see is darkness. I slap my face, blink, trying to bring my vision back.
But still my right hand is a void.
Finally I reach down and pick up my fork, holding it in front of my face.
I feel a thrill in my stomach as I push it down into my hand. I don’t want any false hope. I know I can’t survive any false hope.
But I can see the fork. And I still can’t see my hand .
At that moment my cell door opens and a lowly Mog enters. He’s come to retrieve my serving tray. All it takes is the light from the hallway flooding the room to confirm my suspicion.
My right hand is invisible.
My first Legacy has arrived.
I gasp. Of all the skills I could develop, this seems like the one—the only one—that might get me out of this prison alive.
The Mog grunts at me suspiciously, and I tuck my hollow-looking sleeve behind my back, hoping he didn’t see. I am dizzy with joy.
He’s a stupid one, and doesn’t notice a thing. He lifts my tray from the floor and exits the room.
I am plunged back into darkness, and wait impatiently for my eyes to adjust to the point where I can see my new ability again. There it is. Hollow sleeve, invisible hand. I roll up my sleeve and look at my arm. My hand is completely invisible, my forearm milky, nearly translucent, but by my elbow I’m fully visible.
I can see I’ll need to practice this skill.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
It has taken two days, but I have learned to wield my first Legacy. My control is not perfect yet: sometimes my invisibility stutters, and I panic, struggling to restore it. Turning it off and on is not like turning a light switch up or down; it takes a certain kind of concentration.
Katarina’s breathing exercises have come in handy. When I struggle to control my invisibility, I turn my focus to my breathing— in, out —and then back to the ability. After I’m able to make my hand invisible at will, I start practicing with other parts of my body. It’s like flexing a new muscle—it feels strange at first but quickly feels natural. Next, I let my whole body fade out. It’s no more difficult than making my hand disappear; in fact, it seems to take less precision.
I am ready.
I go fully invisible and wait for the next food drop. It takes some of my energy to maintain the invisibility, energy I wish I could conserve, but I have only that single instant for my snare to work and I can’t risk them seeing me transform.
Finally, a Mog appears. The food slot opens, the tray is tossed in. It shuts.
I worry the snare hasn’t worked.
I use his hesitation to my advantage. I leap off the ground and hit him with a high swing kick, his blade clattering to the floor. One more kick to keep him down, and then I swipe the blade from the floor.
I approach the heaving, panting beast as more guards enter the room and I bring the blade straight down, through the piken’s skull.
Dead in an instant.
The guards swarm around me and drag me out of the cell. I am dazed but happy.
No mercy.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
I have come to appreciate the tiny differences in the food they serve me. It’s always the same gray slop, some protein and wheat blended into a paste and ladled onto my serving tray. But sometimes it is made with more water and less wheat, more wheat and less protein, etc.
Today is a heavy protein day. I swallow it down without joy but with some gratitude: my muscles still hurt from my battle with the piken and the guard, and I figure the protein will do me good.
I take my last bite and back into the corner.
It is dark in my cell, but there is just enough light from the foodslot that I can see my feet, and my hands, and my food tray.
Except today I can’t see my hand. I can see my left one, but not my right one.
It has taken a long time to hone my vision to this state of sensitivity in the dark, so I’m furious at its failure. I wave my right hand in front of my face, twisting it left and right in my sleeve. But still all I see is darkness. I slap my face, blink, trying to bring my vision back.
But still my right hand is a void.
Finally I reach down and pick up my fork, holding it in front of my face.
I feel a thrill in my stomach as I push it down into my hand. I don’t want any false hope. I know I can’t survive any false hope.
But I can see the fork. And I still can’t see my hand .
At that moment my cell door opens and a lowly Mog enters. He’s come to retrieve my serving tray. All it takes is the light from the hallway flooding the room to confirm my suspicion.
My right hand is invisible.
My first Legacy has arrived.
I gasp. Of all the skills I could develop, this seems like the one—the only one—that might get me out of this prison alive.
The Mog grunts at me suspiciously, and I tuck my hollow-looking sleeve behind my back, hoping he didn’t see. I am dizzy with joy.
He’s a stupid one, and doesn’t notice a thing. He lifts my tray from the floor and exits the room.
I am plunged back into darkness, and wait impatiently for my eyes to adjust to the point where I can see my new ability again. There it is. Hollow sleeve, invisible hand. I roll up my sleeve and look at my arm. My hand is completely invisible, my forearm milky, nearly translucent, but by my elbow I’m fully visible.
I can see I’ll need to practice this skill.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
It has taken two days, but I have learned to wield my first Legacy. My control is not perfect yet: sometimes my invisibility stutters, and I panic, struggling to restore it. Turning it off and on is not like turning a light switch up or down; it takes a certain kind of concentration.
Katarina’s breathing exercises have come in handy. When I struggle to control my invisibility, I turn my focus to my breathing— in, out —and then back to the ability. After I’m able to make my hand invisible at will, I start practicing with other parts of my body. It’s like flexing a new muscle—it feels strange at first but quickly feels natural. Next, I let my whole body fade out. It’s no more difficult than making my hand disappear; in fact, it seems to take less precision.
I am ready.
I go fully invisible and wait for the next food drop. It takes some of my energy to maintain the invisibility, energy I wish I could conserve, but I have only that single instant for my snare to work and I can’t risk them seeing me transform.
Finally, a Mog appears. The food slot opens, the tray is tossed in. It shuts.
I worry the snare hasn’t worked.
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