Slowly, the Astania boys creeped into the monks' cave. Their sandals made no sound against the stone. Only their breathing betrayed them, shallow and fast. Moonlight slid through the narrow cracks in the cave walls, cutting their shadows into long twisted shapes that crawled across the floor.
Harry lay on his sick bed. His chest rose and fell in uneven rhythm. His broken arm rested stiff beside him, wrapped in rough cloth. His face was pale, eyes closed, lips slightly parted. He looked smaller there, almost like a child who had wandered too far from home.
Jerry raised his hand. The boys stopped. For a moment, only the drip of water from the cave ceiling could be heard.
Then they moved. Two of them grabbed Harry's legs. Another took his good arm. One clamped a hand over Harry's mouth. Harry's eyes flew open.
He tried to scream, but the sound died in his throat, smothered by the rough palm pressed against his lips. Panic shot through him. His body jerked. His feet kicked uselessly against the air.
They lifted him. Pain ripped through his broken arm as it swung, and a muffled cry escaped him. His eyes rolled wildly, searching the darkness for help that never came. They dragged him out of the cave.
Cold night air hit his face. Stars burned faintly above, uncaring. The boys moved fast, breathing hard, boots crunching softly on gravel as they crossed the open ground toward the river. The Alabama river glimmered in the distance. Black. Silent. Waiting.
They reached the shore and dropped him onto the damp sand. Harry's back hit the ground, knocking the air from his lungs. The hand over his mouth was yanked away.
He gasped. "What are you guys doing?" Harry said, his voice thin and shaking. Jerry crouched in front of him, his face half-lit by moonlight. A slow smile crept across his lips. "Getting rid of you," Jerry said. "Our only weakling."
One of the boys stepped forward with rope. The fibers scraped against Harry's skin as they wrapped it around his wrists, tight and unforgiving. Another looped it around his ankles. Harry thrashed. "Stop," he cried. "Please stop."
A brick was brought forward. Cold. Heavy. They tied it to his back with another rope, pulling the knot until it dug into his skin. Harry's heart thundered so loud he could hear it in his ears.
Slowly, it dawned on him. The river. The rope.
The brick.
His breath caught. "No," he whispered. Then louder. "No. Please." Tears spilled from his eyes, running down into his hair. "Please," he begged. "Do not do this. You are my brothers."
Laughter answered him. "We are no brothers to a weak bastard," Jerry said. They grabbed him again, lifting him off the ground. The brick dragged his body backward, pulling him down even as they carried him forward.
Harry kicked wildly. "Somebody please help me!" he screamed. "They are about to drown me. Please help me!"
His voice echoed across the water, bouncing off the dark trees, but nothing came back. No footsteps. No shouts. Only his own fear returned to him in hollow waves.
The boys chuckled. "Cry all you want," one of them said. "No one will hear you from here." They reached the edge of the river. Cold mist rose from the surface. The water moved slowly, thick and heavy, like it was alive.
They raised him. Harry's body swung for a second, suspended between earth and water. Then they threw him. The river swallowed him in a violent splash.
Cold closed over his head. His breath was ripped away. Water surged into his nose and mouth, burning as it filled him. The brick dragged him down. Fast. Every piece of his life flashed through his mind.
A boy standing alone in the palace halls.
Whispers behind his back. The word bastard was thrown like a stone. Fists in the academy. Laughter in the arena. Angela's single punch.
His chest tightened. "Born a curse," his mind whispered. The river pressed against him from every side. His tied limbs made him helpless. He could not swim. He could not reach the surface. He sank. "I should just die," he thought. "My life would only be miserable anyway."
His eyes drifted shut. The world became darker. Water rushed into his lungs. His body convulsed once, then again, but there was nowhere for the air to go. His strength bled away. His heart slowed. The river floor rushed up. His body hit the bottom with a dull thud.
There was silence.
A memory that did not belong to him flickered inside his fading mind. A voice. Ancient. Steady. "Remain there till I return again."
Then something brushed his hand. At first, it felt like stone. Then metal. Harry's fingers twitched. The object pulsed. Light flared in the dark water, cutting through the black like lightning. The shape was clearer now.
A hand. Not flesh. Not bone. An artificial hand. It shifted, as if alive, and pressed against Harry's left wrist.
The metal melted into him. Glued. Fused. A blinding glow burst from it. Energy surged through his arm, racing through his veins, burning and cold all at once. His eyes snapped open beneath the water, glowing with sudden fire. His body jerked. The ropes around his wrists trembled, then split apart.
His ankles followed. The brick tore loose and fell into the darkness below. Harry's chest expanded. Air rushed back into his lungs as if pulled by invisible hands.
His body began to rise. Upward. The river released him. He broke the surface in a rush of water and light, gasping as he was carried toward the shore by a force he did not understand. His glowing hand cut through the dark, leaving ripples of shimmering energy behind him.
He floated. Then he was thrown onto the sand. His body rolled, coughing water, his chest heaving. The light from his hand flickered once more, then dimmed.
Darkness closed in. Harry went still. Unconscious on the riverbank.
That moment, a strange memory of old started surging into him. He saw himself as a farmer. Grooming crops. Then a fighter, who fought both human and beasts. "I am Benjamin Salim. The wielder of the God Hand." A voice said then he jerked up.
He was in a strange room. A room he had never seen before. Then a voice boomed across the room. "You are awake!" Harry flinched and turned around. There staring at him was Master Kangfu.