Gunfire and the clash of metal against bone echoed out of the training doors, but the guards would not dare enter—not even to check if the young prince was okay. It wasn't worth it, not when they could potentially become a part of the equipment being broken in there.

  So they did what any sensible person would in their position: they turned a blind eye and played deaf. Robot after robot fell, but not without a fight. Cane’s fists were bloody, skin worn from his knuckles and blood dripping from the corner of his mouth as he put the pain to one side and pushed on, destroying the robots as they came at him.

  They adopted the sky above and every corner of the room in pursuit of their mission to put Cane down. A battle of will and force versus unrelenting numbers, but Cane would not break; he refused to crumble. He took back the sky above, removing their advantage and tore through the robots as if they were a sheet of paper, leaving the remains to rain down over their fellow robots.

  They were lifeless—soulless robots who didn't understand fear, the consequences of failure, or value human things such as life and death. They were the perfect soldiers for La Mort’s regime. They had no quit in them; they were programmed to destroy no matter what.

  As Cane’s foot touched the ground, they were on him, not allowing him a moment's rest. Coming from all angles and utilizing the numbers game, they pushed Cane back on the defensive. Strikes were coming in thick and fast, not allowing him a moment to think.

  High block, low block, parries, and slips. He was on his p's and q's; one wrong mistake and it could all go wrong for him. With every strike he gathered the necessary data until minutes passed and, like clockwork, their pattern was readable. The same strikes were thrown. A wicked smile played on his face as he parried the last strike then shot back, creating some much-needed space between himself and the robots. His eyes gleamed the brightest green, then he burst forward, that devilish grin still plastered across his face as he went on the offensive. The robots moved in slow motion as Cane landed strike after unanswered strike. Then—as time picked back up its usual beat,the robots crumbled into useless parts of metal.

  If this weakness won't leave voluntarily, I'll force it out, he thought. I will not hold onto the same illness that plagues my brother. Love and remorse are the seeds; once planted, they create the branches for all the weaknesses that plague the heart and mind. The foundation for all things wrong in this world.

  Cane had been fighting the robots for hours, and as the sun rose, those sleeping eyes that lay tucked in their beds were open, ready to start their day.

  Cane, on the other hand, wasn't satisfied. Still not convinced he had ridden himself of the weakness that he felt plagued his body, he walked over gingerly to the panel and pressed for more robots to come forward.

  “Bring forth your best,” he demanded as he upped the level to one hundred. “I am not done with you yet. I wish to die on this battlefield so I can be reborn—detached from weakness and knowing only strength and power. So… what are you waiting for? Come and get me!”

  Cane’s arms shot out to his sides, welcoming the robots forward with open arms. But as the robots soared out of the hole in the wall, the guards entered the room. They immediately noticed the robots, and one brave, narrowly built guard ran as fast as he could towards the console that controlled them. He slid across the floor, narrowly avoiding the robots' attack, and slammed the emergency power button. The robots powered down where they stood.

  Cane’s eyes cast down to the training room floor, his hand curling in and out of a fist as he closed his eyes and inhaled through his nose. His chest rose as he paused for a moment, then he sharply released it before turning around. His head lifted slowly, his eyes landing on the guard with a piercing stare.

  “And what do you think you’re doing?” Cane asked, his voice booming through every man gathered in front of him.

  The guard tried his best not to look intimidated, but Cane stood there expressionless. The guards couldn't tell what version of Cane they were going to get.

  “I had to. La Mort gave us strict instructions that the prototype robots are not to be touched, sir.”

  Cane looked around at the litany of metal parts scattered across the room, then his glare caught the guard's once more.

  “What use is a prototype if they are not to be touched? Who better to test the limit of their capabilities than me?” Cane said.

  The soldiers cast wary glares amongst each other, their lips quivering under the pressure of the moment. No guard standing there wanted to be the one to step up and tell Cane no, but someone had to.

  “Cane,” said the guard standing by the console. “I understand your point, but I'm afraid it is a point you must take up with your father and gain his permission, sire.”

  Cane cast a side-eye toward the guard as a smile was sown from corner to corner of his face.

  “Permission?” He laughed sharply, then stopped bluntly.

  “I’m sor—”

  Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site.

  Before the word could slip out of the guard’s mouth, Cane was in front of him. His arm extended and his hand wrapped around the man’s throat like a vice. He hoisted him upward, suspending the guard in the air until his feet dangled uselessly. The rest of the guards took a few steps back, their mouths hung open and their eyes widened in horror.

  Cane cast his glance to the guards as they moved closer towards the door. “Don't worry—your lives are safe today. I have no reason to kill any of you.”

  Cane’s glance fell back to the guard struggling in his grip. He held him for a heartbeat longer, then released his grip, dropping the guard to the floor. The man coughed and choked as he held his throat, looking into Cane’s eyes as if the Prince held the keys to what happened to him next.

  Cane gave him no mind. He simply stepped over the guard and walked toward the door. The guards quickly parted like the river Nile, and Cane walked through the doors and out of the training room.

  As he walked the halls, sweat poured down his face and chest like rain, his muscles twitching from the sheer exhaustion. His breathing was heavy, controlled by the storm of emotions simmering beneath the surface.

  The more he traveled, the more he got lost in a cloud of doubt. Maybe she is right. Maybe I am the same feeble child she once knew. Cane closed his eyes for a split second, but as he did, there it was: the relentless training of La Mort.

  “Don't you dare cry, boy. Crying is for the weak. No kin of mine will feel sorry for themselves. Go again and don't stop until you get it right,” La Mort commanded.

  “But Father—my hands. I can't feel them.”

  Cane’s hands were swollen like hammers, a mere child asked to do the work of men, but his father would offer no compassion in his pursuit to make his son the perfect soldier.

  “Rather your hands than your life, boy. Out on the battlefield, you must find a way to win no matter what the cost. This time, the sacrifice will be your hands. Now go, boy. I will not ask again.”

  “Yes, Father. I understand.”

  Cane looked at his hands one last time and lifted them, throwing them like hammers against the hard wooden dummy. His eyes squinted as the pain shot through his hand to his forearm like needles stabbing under his skin with every strike thrown.

  Ezra watched on, his head hung low in sorrow for his brother. “Cane, you don't have to do this. You don't have to put your body through this. It's not worth it, brother.”

  Cane stopped his punch just mere inches from the target then turned to his brother. “And what is the other option, brother? Go to our mother? A mother we know nothing about, a mother who we don't know where she is—is that what you would have us do? It hurts today, brother, but it will forge us into the men we need to be.”

  “You’re crazy, brother. He doesn't care about you, or us. He cares about keeping absolute control of the galaxy, brother, and you need to wake up and see Father for what he is,” Ezra continued. “He beats us for failure and turns a cold shoulder when we need to be picked up and shown love, but you think he cares?”

  Cane paused for a moment, taking in the words of his brother, then let them slip out of the other ear and continued to hit the dummy. All Ezra could do was watch on as the wooden statue was painted with Cane’s blood.

  Cane’s eyes shot open like a bullet releasing from its chamber. His eyes cast down to his hands that were out in front of him; he could feel the pain like it was yesterday. How could he forget? He was forged in it.

  “I'm far from that pathetic boy you once knew, Mother. I had no choice but to be. I lacked a mother’s warmth, her care, the balance. I was left in the darkness where you knew I would be, but you still turned and left anyway. You caught me off guard. The next time we meet, Mother, you won't be so lucky.”

  The guards and the people passing caught a glance at Cane and dropped their heads. Cane paused for a moment then carried on marching—marching forward toward his father's throne room.

  As he arrived at the doors, the soldiers standing guard caught a glance of the blood-stained Prince and dropped their heads. They could feel the heat of his rage, the brutality he caused as he stood painted in his own blood. They stepped to the side as Cane stormed forward and wasted no time in pushing his father's throne room doors, sending them cannoning open against the chamber walls.

  La Mort rose abruptly from his throne. “What is the meaning of this, boy?”

  “Mother,” Cane snapped. “She made contact.”

  “How, boy—how?”

  “She brought me into one of her spells.”

  La Mort's expression barely changed. “Are you certain it was her, boy?”

  “As sure as I am that I'm looking at you right now.”

  Silence ensued as La Mort sat there, lost in his thoughts for a moment. Then he narrowed his gaze. “And Ezra? Was he there?”

  “Yes. Ezra was there.”

  La Mort sat up in his seat. “Where is she?”

  “I don't know,” Cane replied honestly.

  “Don't lie to me, boy. That woman abandoned you, left you and your brother behind, and I don't need to remind you that she's a fugitive.”

  “I understand, Father. I hold no allegiance to her; my loyalty lies with you.”

  La Mort rose sharply from his throne and walked down his steps until he hit the bottom. His gaze never wandered from Cane’s as he walked forward until he stood in front of him.

  “I would advise you not to hold back any information, boy. You say your loyalty lies with me, but on Zoron, your loyalty lied with Ezra.”

  “A mistake you will never let me forget. No matter what I do, how many people I kill, planets I purge in your name, or alliances I bring into the fold, you will never let me forget it,” Cane said. “I made one mistake. One mistake that never cost us a thing.”

  “You’re right, son. I haven't been fair. I apologize.”

  Cane stared at La Mort in shock. Sorry was a word that was never associated with the name La Mort. He was taken aback.

  “I would tell you if I knew where she was, Father. I want her to pay as much as you do for her crimes.”

  “Well then. It's sorted. If she appears again, get the location and bring it straight to me—is that understood?”

  “Yes, Father.”

  Without waiting for dismissal, Cane turned and walked out of the throne room, fists still clenched and his mind spinning. As the throne room doors shut, Beof emerged from the shadows.

  “You believe him, La Mort?” Beof asked.

  “I would be a fool to trust him,” the King replied, his voice a low and calm. “Whether he admits it or not, I know there is a soft spot there for his mother. And that grey area is there to be exploited. Keep a close eye on him, Beof. Something tells me she will be in touch with him again soon.”

  “Yes, my King. My eyes will not leave the boy.”

  La Mort walked back up his steps and sat in his throne once more, fingers steeped, eyes lost in the void of his own thoughts. Then, in a quiet whisper that barely moved the air, he spoke.

  “Beloved… our reunion draws near. You thought you could escape me, but where there is light, there is always darkness. I’ll bring the match that sets your world on fire—the same match that once lit our love ablaze. You can never escape me. I am your inevitability.”