Chapter 1

"I'm the chancellor!" Abby roared. She was as she always was in a moment of tense decision making: rooted to the ground. She had the authority; therefore, no other position was necessary.

Marcus Kane had a different solution for the fragile situation that was presented and ever tired of being forced under the boot, pushed upward with what last resorts of emotional energy he had.

"Then act like one!"

The minute those desperate words were hurled from his mouth, he knew he would regret the feels to follow and yet, he continued, "I said I would support you, as long as I believed you were doing the right thing."

This retort eased his stinging pride, but Abby, as per-usual, held her ground and forced the giant boot down on his frailty with even greater urgency.

"I am doing the right thing," she sneered through gritted teeth. "And if you disagree, convene a vote and take my place"

At this point, Kane knew he was face down in the dirt, biting the dust.

"I don't give a damn about the title! I just want what's best for our people."

Without hesitation, Abby spat the good will back in his face.

"So do I."

With every other breath, Kane choked on old feelings of inferiority and inadequacy and it infuriated him. He took two steps closer to her, wondering, "How does she make me lose my temper like that?" But she gave him that cold look with warm eyes. And for two long seconds, nothing really mattered.

He caught himself holding his breath. The fight was over. He lost. Pulling his feet away was easy enough, but those eyes. Those rich and intense eyes pulled away from him. And as Chancellor Griffin started giving orders to the Guard, Ex-Chancellor Kane left the room as Water Boy Marcus once again.

The fire he felt inside propelled him to quicken his pace, because it was burning a different kind of light. But that light was by no means unfamiliar.

As he came to a mangled, but familiar portion of the arc, he slowed his pace. Taking a deep breath, he slipped through the crumpled doorway and breathed the stale air the cluttered room had to offer. While it was a different consistency, it never seemed to lose the comforting effect. It was the books, though few were left intact. He slipped into a corner and sat on the torn cushion next to a broken window. The sun was shining through. It warmed his face and he couldn't help but wonder at how dark and grim the ground was, despite the sun beating down on his people what seemed to be consistently. There was a time when the sun would shine through the glass, but the only warmth he felt was she beside him. But in space, her warmth was only as comforting as the sun was from the surface of the Earth. Space. The thought began to make him feel an ounce of building claustrophobia so he forced himself away from the window and wandered over to the metal shelves, thrashed and empty of former inhabitants.

He stared at the floor, which was covered with torn and ashy pages, for a while, until something caught his eye that made the puff of that stale air cling to the cavity in his chest. It was a red, paper cover, ripped and frayed around the edges, color faded and water damaged, but gold title still visible. As if driven by fate, he stretched down and took it up. The thought of fate made him laugh silently to himself as he read the title out loud.

"Julius Caesar."

His dark eyes took in all of it, from corner to corner and every tear in between. Spots of the cover were faded of their color, leaving pale, fibrous light spots exposed, but the title itself was nearly perfect despite the 'R' at the end of the word "Caesar", which had been bled of its gold vibrancy significantly due to water damage. Invasive, destructive, scarring water damage. But as minds wander, Kane's drifted to the kids in Mt. Weather and what fate may have already befallen them. He ripped his mind from the image, folded the cover and stuck it in his pocket. Finding the rest of the book crossed his mind and he turned his shoulder back toward the center of the room from the doorway. But his moment of indulging in nostalgia had come and gone; however, remembrance was far from fleeting.