my irrelevant ____

Zane Blythe remembered each and every face, watching with scorn as hooded figures dragged him off to his punishment, chaining him. A poor, defenseless young man—you might almost forget his former title, seeing how he appeared now.

No different than the rest of the scum locked away.

All except—

No, we’re getting ahead of ourselves.

The molten heat combined with Zane’s racing heart kept him sweaty, sticky, and uncomfortable, not to mention how the chains contorted his arms behind him, and extra not mentioning the whip one of the hooded figures held. Business as usual—acting causal helped numb the pain.

Zane waited.

They never started the punishment on a countdown. Obviously, it wouldn’t be a punishment if they made it predictable.

And what horrible crime did Zane commit to end up with another public punishment? If asked, he’d laugh and say which one? But, in this particular case, it had to be… laughing when Vitam’s Avatar tripped during the weekly Procession of Suppression.

Which, to be fair, was pretty damn funny. The way he tumbled and went kyaaaa~ like a little girl? The best show Zane’s seen all month. But the Watchers didn’t find it nearly as funny. Thirty whips, and then extra labor for the day. What a chore.

But he’d own it.

Because Zane never regretted a damn thing. Vitam’s Watchers could take his reputation, his position, his weapons and armor and friends, but they couldn’t take his magic—this burning anger—away.

He only—

“Ghk!”

He grit his teeth, hating the way the Watcher sneered in delight at his suffering. Most Watchers handled the Moria with apathy, but of course Zane got stuck with the most sadistic of the bunch today. He didn’t soften a single blow, leaving Zane’s back covered in welts. His wounds ached and burned from the blistering dry air, and the darkness of the caverns made it a pain when he had to walk back to his post by himself. The other Moria watched, to teach them a lesson, but none dared—or wanted to—offer sympathy.

So be it. Zane saw little point in making friends with his fellow prisoners. The Moria and Watchers spent their lives in the planet’s core to suppress the deadly magics boiling inside which threatened to consume the surface world, exhausting themselves to death before being replaced by other ‘brave sacrifices’. While the Watchers were volunteers who, as the name implied, watched instead of helped, the Moria consisted of indentured servants, criminals and the unwanted. They were the sacrifices thrown to the pyre. They were meant to spend day after day using magic to push back the rising tides of lava until they dropped dead.

And every week, Vitam’s Avatar used a portal to visit for the Procession of Suppression. Vitam—the god worshiped across the continent, Auliam, a god of life, kindness, prosperity and—blah, blah, blah. Zane was sick of hearing His name.

Vitam’s Avatar—a sheltered brat with a strong grasp on magic who added an extra boost to the magic keeping the core somewhat calm. Talented, far above even experienced mages. Someone worthy of bearing God’s name and performing good deeds on his behalf.

Over and over again, the cycle repeated. But he usually left as soon as he was no longer needed.

Key word—usually.

Zane finished the long trudge to his post, a small cave where a geyser of lava broke through the tough volcano rock, only to see a young blonde with bright green eyes, a stupid freckled face dressed like a high-ranking healer you might see in the main church, battle robes, white staff and all.

Though Zane recognized him, stifling a laugh. “Uh, Mr. Vitam Avatar? And what do I, a humble Moria slaving away for the world above, owe you the pleasure? Another beating? Did I not bleat enough for you? If you want to get your licks in, I guess there’s nothing I can do about it.”

The man turned around, shaking his head furiously. “Ah—I’m really sorry about that, actually!”

“Hm?”

Vitam’s Avatar bowed, deep and long. Zane took a step back and checked over his shoulder for Watchers.

“My name is Lucian, actually. Or, I’m technically not supposed to tell people that—or even be here…?” Lucian made some indecipherable gestures. “But that’s not important. Just—I’m sorry. About what they did. The Watchers wouldn’t listen to my objections.”

“So Vitam’s Avatar has disobedient followers?” Zach laughed. “Color me shocked—oh, wait, am I getting beat for saying that next?”

Lucian stepped back, nearly landing on the tiny spout of lava before stumbling away. “Are you… mad at me? Not that’d I’d blame you, since I should be more capable of talking them down. It’s just—”

“Nope.”

Zane put a hand up. “I’m just joking, man. You ever heard a joke before, or am I rocking your world today?”

“I’ve heard of jokes! But that’s not—”

“Great, good. Glad we got that settled.” Zane began pushing Lucian out—until the other man dug his heels in, impeding Zane. “Hey, don’t you got more important places to be? I’m really not looking for another whipping, so if you’re sorry, you’ll—”

“I need to ask you something!”

Something cracked, a loud snap heard even from afar. Zane’s instincts took over; he wrapped himself around Lucian and threw him to the ground as a stalactite crumbled off the tunnel’s ceiling and crashed outside the cavern.

A few deep breaths—Zane suppressed the urge to cough. Lucian, to his credit, did too. “And you think walkin’ up to my post like it’s nothing’s a great way to ask? Why not tell a Watcher to pass me a message? They’re probably out there, looking for you.”

“It’s not something I can ask them—it’s…”

“It’s what? Something bad? Something weird? You’re gonna offer me your first?”

“No!”

Lucian wriggled, and Zane tried not to laugh. Seriously, though, he didn’t wanna be around Lucian for longer than he had to be. Now, there’d be Watchers coming to check the damage, and if they saw Zane tackling Vitam’s Avatar, he’d be lucky if he didn’t get thrown into lava.

Footsteps approached. He slapped a hand over Lucian’s mouth just in case and dragged him further into the cave, out of sight. Just outside, a few Watchers grumbled.

“We’re gonna need a new group of Moria down here soon. That thing’s throwing a big tantrum.”

“Tell me about it. How about you go catch up with the avatar’s guards and ask them to get the next batch of recruits ready? They won’t be happy about it, but with Lucian off who knows where, they’ve got time to multitask.”

The other Watcher nodded and left, and the one remaining stalked off elsewhere. Zane released the other man, and Lucian fixed his robe as he put distance between him and Zane, gripping his staff like it comforted him.

Lucian wiped sweat off his forehead. “There’s a reason I came to you. You’re the only Guardian I can depend on this for this, God’s Rage.”

“Ah, that’s a nice title. They really haven’t picked a replacement yet?”

“Of course not. No one else could be—you—I mean…”

“Mean what? C’mon, I’m a chill guy. Don’t even got that much of a temper, so ‘s kinda weird how I got stuck with Rage out of all of Vitam’s Guardians.”

Vitam’s Guardians—the highest in command at the main church, only second to the pope, built to protect one of the portal’s connecting the surface world to the planet’s core. The Guardians harnessed one core element of magic each to a degree far above even the talented in the name of enacting Vitam’s will.

Lucian smiled, drumming his fingers against his staff. “I should just say it, shouldn’t I?”

Say what?

Zane thought to ask, but he had a feeling he knew. He was smarter than the others gave him credit for.

“I need you to save me. We must get to the main church, please, before this suffering can go on any longer!”