Page 23 of Shattered Empire (Shattered World)

Amika’s throat bobbed. “I’ll never survive out there. I’ll lose.” It was a whisper on her lips. An admission to herself more than to me. I’d thought the same thing at once.

“As long as you have something to fight for,” I assured her. “You’ve already won.”

“Not many of us have anything to fight for,” a boy toward the back spoke up. “We’re poor. Homeless. Our parents either died or gave us up. Many of us used and abused. What is there to fight for?”

“Justice.” It was a simple word to give him, but a powerful one all the same. “You are fighting to end the very thing that put you here. You’re avengers. People who understand what it means to be powerless and feel victimized.”

“We are victims,” Amika spat.

“No.” I smiled at her affectionately. She reminded me of Maleah, who had once told me the same thing I was about to tell her. “You’re survivors. You did what you needed to do. Every day you went on living, you survived. Look at all of you.” I swept my hand in front of me, gesturing to the crowd. “Look at how far you have come. You could have easily given up. Given in to death and pain and sorrow. Another nameless kid on the street. Another drug addict or prostitute. Another no one. But you chose to live and learn and survive.”

“What do you know of survival?” a man in the back I didn’t recognize spat. He wore a black shirt with the word trainer printed across the front. “Posh bitch from a posh home. You don’t know anything about suffering or survival.”

“Watch your tone, Malich,” Vas hissed. He stepped forward, hazel eyes turning a burnt gold with his pent-up ire.

“Leave it,” I ordered Vas. He looked down at me in surprise before nodding his head submissively and stepping back. This was my fight.

“I grew up in a house filled with riches,” I admitted coldly. “A place I believed was my home. Raised by a man I thought was my father. A man who beat me and made me watch as he killed those who were disloyal to him. He ruled through fear. Not with loyalty and compassion. He stole me and called himself my father for years. Locked me in a cupboard of a room for days with no food or water. Only letting me out when he thought I was about to die.

“And trust me, there were many times I’d wished I had,” I sneered. “I finally managed to run away, and when he caught me, he had my best friend raped in front of my eyes for assisting me. He sold me to Matthias as collateral so his precious son would survive. Should I keep going? Most of you know the rest. Will my word suffice, or should I show you my scars, Malich?”

Now he looked downright contrite and mildly fearful.

“We all have stories to tell that would give even the darkest soul nightmares.” My gaze left Malich to draw over the crowd. “But the most important story you must tell is your future. The past is gone. Don’t forget it, but don’t let it drown you. You can’t control it any more than you can control the weather. But what you can control,” I paused. The dramatics heightening the moment. What could I say? I was a sucker for theater, “is your future. You determine who you are and who you want to be.

“You decide where you want to go from here. No one else controls what lies ahead.”

Silence fell over the courtyard; the only sound was the mild shuffling of the bodies who couldn’t remain still and the wind singing through the trees. This was a moment for them. A moment they needed with the battle looming on the horizon. The faces before me had still been living in the past, and they let it dictate where they were going.

The past was just a guide to a better tomorrow. We accepted that it shaped us, and the moment we realized it had no control over us was the moment we were free. We all had two lives. The second one began the moment we realized we only had one.

Or so Confucius said.

He seemed legit; I’ll take it. Better advice than a fortune cookie, if you ask me.

“Let’s go everyone,” Roman whistled. “Back to training. ThePakhanis very busy, and we have more drills to run.”

With a low groan, the students filed back to their original positions, some of them waving at me as they went. Compassion and kindness bred better loyalty than fear could ever hope to.

“Ma’am.” Amika looked over at me with a hopeful expression in her obsidian eyes. “Will you…” she bit her lip, a slight blush sweeping across her cheeks, “will you train with us tomorrow?”

“ThePakhanhas better things to do than—” I cut Roman off with a wave of my hand.

“I look forward to it.”

Amika’s broad smile was all I needed to know that I’d made the right decision.

Loyalty was earned; not demanded.

Built and not forced.

I wouldn’t let them sacrifice their lives for mine like Matthias.

No. My life would be laid down first.

But not before I painted the streets with blood and burned the city to the ground.

Hades and hell weren’t ready for me yet.

---