Emily was up before anyone else, already stuffing clothing into a duffel bag her mother lent her. Her hands trembled slightly as she folded the last of her clothes into the bag. She had barely slept after her nightmare. Now that it was morning, she felt an urgency deep in her bones, a certainty that Sylvester needed her. If she had been having second thoughts before, now she was sure of what her next move should be and no one could dissuade her. A knock sounded on her door as she zipped the bag close and keyed in the security lock. “Who's there?” she asked, looking up. The door slid open and Cullen rolled his wheel chair in, his eyes settling on the bag immediately. “You’re really going through with this, huh?” he asked, his voice cracking a bit with emotion. Emily didn’t look his way at first probably because she was scared her façade will falter if she saw the emotions on his face. She plucked the bag off the bed and planted it beside her foot then she sighed and turned a

“We have got to save her… she's going to bleed out if we don't do something.” Emily cried out, trying to crawl towards the still bleeding and unconscious Katrina, not caring if they were still under attack. Isabella caught the hem of her dress restraining her. “No…let go! Let me go!” Emily's voice was raw as she protested, desperate to reach her friend but Isabella's hold on her was firm. “Emily, stop! They are still out there waiting for us.!” Finally Emily was free, the gown tearing off at the hem. She scrambled to Katrina's side, tears falling down her cheeks in torrents. “Katrina… please,” Emily whispered as she reached Katrina, her sobs loud and uncontrolled. Katrina’s eyes fluttered opened weakly, her chest rising in shallow, uneven pulls. Her fingers twitched as if she was trying to fold them but they wouldn't respond. Emily’s heart broke at the sight of the strong lady she had known reduced to a shell of herself. Out of the corner of her eye she sighted some of t

Early the next morning, Sylvester was busy rallying the troops and his students who were willing to march out to battle. He could sense the fear they felt at the prospect of fighting an enemy more powerful and ruthless but at the same time he saw the eagerness to protect what was sacred to them. The truck of fuel and gunpowder Gerald and Otto had managed to hijack from the enemy’s supply line now sat behind them, ready to be used. The men had worked tirelessly throughout the night, with soot streaking their faces and sweat running down their necks, shaping those stolen materials into explosives powerful enough to cripple a chunk of the enemy’s force. It wasn’t elegant. It wasn’t perfect but it was lethal enough to do the work. He looked over at the team in charge of the explosives. “Handle them like you would an egg.,” Sylvester warned, his voice low but carrying weight. “Yes, Grandmaster,” they chorused. The rest of his troops gathered in loose lines nearby, checking we

The war was already playing out in full force as explosions rocked the compound but the enemy kept coming, not caring that their comrades were caught in the explosion. The valley shook beneath Sylvester’s feet as fire rolled upward in orange waves, licking at the sky and swallowing everything in its path. The bombs had done their job by reducing the enemy numbers but it wasn’t nearly enough to stop them. The army of clones didn't even show any signs of being affected at all. Worse still, they also had their own explosives, using them without hesitation. Soon the stronghold became a spot for explosions as both groups used bombs and other explosive materials to battle. The air turned thick with dust and smoke, coating tongues and lungs until every breath felt like swallowing heat. Men coughed, blinked through ash, and tightened their grips on their weapons, struggling despite their stinging eyes to shoot down the clones who managed to escape the explosions. “Focus!” Sylvester

The battlefield grew fiercer still. Sylvester's fighters fought bravely, holding their own against the enemy but even that wasn't enough as the enemy kept pushing forward, being on the offensive. All around were screams and sounds of either guns going off or blades clashing. There were even those who could cultivate energy from the environment, using it in its most lethal form. The ground trembled beneath Sylvester’s feet as he struck down another attacker. He raised his head to scan for his clone but couldn't find it. While they were locked in battle earlier, a bomb had gone off mere feet from them and the explosion had flung them to opposite sides of each other and when they had recovered other opponents engaged them. Sadness and sorrow filled him as he saw his men dropping one by one beneath the onslaught. Their dying screams lingering in his mind, replaying itself over and over in his head even after they breathed their last. I did this. He thought sadly to himself. They h