Ezra stood at the threshold of the lion’s den, a traitor who had let the enemy escape would now have to walk toward his judgement. He saved the Zoronion people—yes, but at what cost? La Mort was a ruler whose actions could not be predicted and his wrath never took a back seat, nor the same shape twice. How far would his father go to make an example out of him… and how deep would the resulting doubt run through the ranks?

  There was only one way to find out, and with Ezra marching confidently toward his father, he wouldn’t have to wait long.

  “La Mort!” General Kantaos screamed out at the top of his lungs.

  La Mort’s head turned slightly to the general.

  “He is a child, La Mort.”

  La Mort’s tone was cold and void of emotion. “He chose this, General—not me. He stood on his own two feet like a man and betrayed me, so I will treat him as he requested.”

  La Mort’s head turned again, his eyes locking on Ezra as he advanced, his eyes a picture colder than the darkest winter as he met Ezra head-on. When the pair finally stood face to face, Ezra’s confidence did not waver, his eyes still blue, sparks snapping around his skin in hot short flashes as he stared into his father’s eyes.

  “You may not agree with my decision here today, Father, but I could stay back no longer,” he said. “I couldn’t just let innocent p—”

  La Mort’s finger landed on Ezra’s lips, forcing the words back before they could ever enter the world.

  “You have defied me for the last time, boy. I gave you everything. A home. A kingdom. A galaxy. And all I asked in return from you and your brother was respect and obedience, but yet I received neither.”

  La Mort watched his son and felt an oh-too-familiar feeling: disappointment. He looked at Ezra with disgust in his eyes. He didn’t see his son… the boy whom he raised. He didn’t recognise the person standing before him. He had tried over and over to break his will, to bend him, mold him in his image, but Ezra would not budge.

  “You think your kinship grants you immunity from punishment, boy?”

  “Do what you must, Father, but I do not regret my decision and I would do it a million times over if given the opportunity to do what’s right,” said Ezra.

  His hand raised, grabbing a hold of his father’s wrist, but as he tried to remove his father’s finger, it would not budge. All that power at his fingertips and yet he still couldn't move one solitary finger. La Mort grabbed a hold of Ezra’s hand and pulled him in.

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  “There’s more ways to hurt you, boy, and you’re about to find out,” said La Mort as he discarded Ezra’s arm.

  “This world is not as you think, boy. It’s kill or be killed and I refuse to be the prey, Ezra. I tried the nice way, gave you leeway, and you made me take that pathetic old man’s life. I thought that would be enough for you to realise that this is no game, but yet again here we are. I warned you then and you did not heed my words. Actions will always have consequences, but you feel like you must be Nobel—the hero. So be the hero, boy. Be a man of your word and stop me,” La Mort unleashed a devilish snigger, then continued. “Because to you, Ezra, people are not enough. That planet Cortex you love so dearly, they have you to thank for unleashing my wrath upon it.”

  Ezra stood there shaking, but as he did his fists clenched tightly, the sparks echoing off his body grew and snapped in bigger bursts.

  “No… Father… no—no-no…” His breaths became quick, fast, ragged. He bit down as hard as he could, his fists clenched tighter, the veins bulging in his face and arms as he did. “This is madness, Father—they have stuck to the accords.”

  La Mort couldn't hold it back. His mouth opened and he began to laugh uncontrollably.

  “The accords, Ezra—the accords,” he sniggered. “The accords matter not when my gaze falls upon a planet. I am above any law I create, boy. I am the law. Judge, jury, and executioner. The hammer has landed and my verdict is in, boy—death at the hands of their king. That is your punishment, boy, that and watching as I slaughter every single one of them in cold blood. Their suffering, their screams will be on you, boy. You may have saved a few but you have condemned thousands to their death in the process. Their blood will flow like an endless river, and when I take their last living person as my prisoner, as a souvanieer, and they ask me why, I will simply lean over and whisper one word into their ear—Ezra.”

  The general could hear no more. He charged toward La Mort, his heart full of rage. La Mort sidestepped with ease, then launched a brutal uppercut into the general’s gut. Spit and blood flew from his mouth as he dropped to his knees, gasping for air. But La Mort would not stop there. He turned to the general as he still struggled to bring in air to his lungs and smiled, before unleashing a barrage of punches to the general’s face that made every soldier wince at the sound. Blood sprayed and his bones cracked under the weight of each strike, until finally his flesh split and his face was unrecognisable.

  Ezra felt each blow, wincing at every strike landed. As La Mort cocked his fist back, ready to land the final blow, something inside Ezra snapped.

  Ezra let out a mighty cry.

  “ENOOOOOOOOUUUUUUGH!!!”

  His scream tore through the sky and the heavens answered. A column of blinding light shot down, completely engulfing him.

  As he stepped through the beam of light, Ezra had unlocked his true power. He looked down at his hands, electricity dancing in his palms, coiling around his fingers like a snake does its prey.

  Tzzt—tzzt—tzzt.

  His power finally obeyed, answering his cry, and he was Reaaady to unleash it. His head lifted, tilting ever so slightly to the side as his gaze found his father’s. The gesture was small but it sent shivers down spines, because now even the tilt of his head carried weight.

  “If you make that mist—”

  But that was La Mort’s mistake, thinking that Ezra’s rage would be diluted by fear. Before he could finish uttering his words, Ezra was upon him. He sawed through the air with blinding speed, his fist launching at La Mort’s face and all La Mort could do was look down in astonishment as Ezra’s fist landed square across his jaw, sending him skidding across the floor and flying through the jagged cliffs.