Pittacus Lore - The Fall of Five

Setrákus Ra holds her hand.

I fight back the urge to rush up the steps and try to kill him, reminding myself that none of this is real. And anyway, even if it was, I wouldn’t stand a chance. An entire army of Mogadorians stands between me and Setrákus Ra.

The crowd parts to let the military truck I saw before pull up to the Lincoln Memorial’s steps. The back of the truck is open and I can see two prisoners huddled inside, their heads down and hands shackled. There’s something familiar about them.

Setrákus Ra stands up when the truck parks. A hush falls across the crowd.

“Bring them forward,” he shouts.

A stout Mogadorian warrior steps out of the ranks. He’s not like the others; he’s not so pale and the dark tattoos across his scalp seem almost new. He wears a patch over one eye and his working eye isn’t the soulless black of a Mogadorian. I take an involuntary step backwards as I realize that I’m not looking at a Mogadorian at all.

It’s Five. What the hell is going on here? Why is he wearing their uniform?

Five leads the first prisoner down from the back of the truck. He’s a little older and there’s a long scar running horizontal across his nose and cheeks, but I still immediately recognize Sam. He keeps his head down, not making eye contact with Five, looking haunted and defeated. I notice Sam has a bad limp that becomes all the more apparent when he’s forced to climb the steps of the Lincoln Memorial. He stumbles, almost falls, and some of the Mogadorian onlookers chuckle at the humiliating display. I feel rage bubbling up inside me and have to take a deep breath as I feel my Lumen starting to activate.

The second prisoner doesn’t go as meekly as Sam. Even with her hands and feet shackled, Six stands tall. Her blond hair has been shorn into boyish spikes and her face is contorted into a perpetual mask of anger, yet she’s still strikingly beautiful. She sweeps her eyes across the crowd of humans and many of them look down in response, ashamed. Five says something to her that I can’t hear, but his soft features are almost apologetic. In response, Six spits in his face. As Five wipes the spit off his cheek, a group of Mogadorian guards grab Six and drag her up the steps. She’s a fighter until the very end.

Six and Sam are made to kneel before Setrákus Ra. He glowers at them for a moment, then turns to address the crowd.

“Behold,” he shouts, his voice carrying above the silent masses. “The last of the Loric resistance! Today our society celebrates a great victory over those who would stand in the way of Mogadorian progress.”

The Mogs all cheer. The humans stay quiet.

My mind is racing. If Six and Sam are the last remaining, then that means, in this future, I’m already dead and so are all the others. Those pendants dangling from Setrákus Ra’s neck—one of those is mine. I remind myself again that none of this is real, but I feel terrified all the same.

Five walks up the steps and stands beside Setrákus Ra. He holds the ornamental sheath as Setrákus pulls free his glowing broadsword. Setrákus brandishes the sword for all to see, then takes a practice swing just above Sam’s head. Someone in the crowd screams and is quickly silenced.

“Today, we cement a lasting peace between humans and Mogadorians,” continues Setrákus. “At last, we will finally stamp out the final threat to our glorious existence.”

This sure doesn’t look glorious. The humans have clearly been beaten down over months and months of Mogadorian occupation. I wonder how many would join me if I tried to charge Setrákus Ra. Probably none. I don’t feel angry at them, but angry at myself. I should’ve saved them, should’ve prepared them better for what’s coming.

Setrákus isn’t done giving his speech. “On this historic day, I have chosen to bestow the honor of sentencing to she who will one day succeed me as your Beloved Leader.” With a grand gesture, Setrákus Ra motions to Ella. “Heir? How do you rule?”

Heir? That doesn’t make any sense. Ella isn’t a Mogadorian, she’s one of us.

I don’t have time to figure out what this all means. I watch as Ella rises shakily from her throne, seeming almost drugged. She stares down at Six and Sam, her eyes dark and impassive. Then, she gazes into the crowd, her eyes settling on me.

“Execute them,” Ella says.

“Very well,” Setrákus replies.

He bows deeply and then, in one fluid motion, chops off Six’s head with his sword. The crowd is deathly silent as her body topples over, so quiet that I can hear Sam screaming. He falls across Six’s body, crying and yelling.

I feel the searing pain on my ankle. A new scar is forming. I close my eyes as Five lifts up Sam, turning him towards Setrákus Ra’s blade. I don’t want to see what happens next, how badly I’ve failed them all. It’s not real, I repeat to myself.

It’s not real, it’s not real, it’s not real. . . .

I know he’s gone. I can still feel the lingering pain from the new scar on my leg. I might never stop feeling that; it could be with me for the rest of my life.

I have to try.

I fall to my knees in the mud next to Eight’s body. The wound doesn’t even look so bad. There’s not as much blood as there was in New Mexico, and Eight lived through that. I should be able to heal this, right? It should work. It has to work. But this one is right on his heart, straight through. I press my hands across the puncture and will my Legacy to kick in. I did it before. I can do it again. I have to.

Nothing happens. I feel cold all over, but it’s not the iciness of my Legacy.

I wish I could lie down next to Eight here in the muck and just shut out everything that’s going on around me. I’m not even crying—it’s like the tears have gone out of me and I just feel hollow.

Just a few yards away, Five is shouting but my mind can’t process what he’s saying. The blade he used to stab Eight has retracted back into its wrist-mounted sheath. His hands are on his head, like he can’t believe what he’s just done. At the base of the tree, Nine has fallen silent, in a state of shock. If only he’d shut up moments ago and not egged Five on. Six is finally struggling back to her feet, looking groggy, trying to make sense of the new scar on her ankle. Everything has fallen apart.

“It was an accident!” Five is babbling. “I didn’t mean to do that! Marina, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it!”

“Be quiet,” I hiss.

That’s when I hear the dreaded hum of a Mogadorian ship’s engine. The tall grass around us begins blowing wildly as the sleek silver vessel starts descending from the sky. This was all just a setup orchestrated by Five, so of course he’d have backup waiting in the wings.

I lean over and touch a gentle kiss to Eight’s cheek. I want to say something, to tell him what an amazing person he was, how much better he made this terrifying life we’re forced to lead. “I’ll never forget you,” I whisper.

I feel a hand on my shoulder. I whip around to find Five standing over me.

“It doesn’t have to be this way,” he’s saying, pleading with me. “This was a horrible mistake, I know that! But everything I said is the truth.”

He’s insane. Insane to touch me. I can’t believe he’d even have the audacity to do that after what he just did. “Shut up,” I warn him.

“You can’t win, Marina!” he continues. “You’re better off joining with me. You— you—” Five stammers as his breath mists in front of his mouth, the humidity around us cut by a sudden chill. His teeth chatter. “What are you doing?”

Something in me snaps. I’ve never felt anger like this before and it’s almost comforting. The icy feeling of my healing Legacy spreads through me, but it’s different somehow; freezing and bitter and dead. I’m radiating cold. Near Five and me, the murky swamp water crackles as the surface turns instantly to ice. The plants within my radius begin to wither, drooping under the flash freeze.