MORTAL FREEDOM

The cell walls were damp, the smell of mold clinging to the air. Wilson sat in chains, his mind racing. His wrists burned where the restraints bit into his skin, but it was nothing compared to the storm of emotions roiling within him. His mother's anguished face kept flashing before his eyes.

The surge inside him pulsed like a second heartbeat. Its energy was wild, untamed, and terrifying. Every time he moved, faint arcs of golden light crackled along his skin. He didn't understand it, but he could feel its potential, as if it were waiting for something—a trigger to be unleashed.

The door to his cell creaked open, and two guards marched in, dragging him roughly to his feet. Wilson clenched his jaw, glaring at them, but said nothing as they shoved him out of the cell. He stumbled down the dimly lit corridor, his mind racing.

When they reached the end of the hallway, the guards opened a set of large metal doors. The room beyond was the Ministrians' judgment chamber, a vast, circular hall lined with towering pillars. At its center, the Ministrians sat on elevated thrones, each one carved from a black stone that seemed to drink in the light. Their faces were masks of authority, cold and detached. Wilson's stomach churned with hatred.

Lord Dominic, seated on the tallest throne, leaned forward, his gaze sharp as a dagger. "You've been quite the troublemaker, haven't you, boy?"

Wilson glared at him, his fists clenching despite the restraints. "I don't owe you answers."

Dominic's lips curled into a faint smirk. "You have your father's defiance, I'll give you that. But like him, you'll learn that defiance comes at a cost."

Wilson's chest tightened. "You killed him, didn't you?" he spat. "He spoke out against your tyranny, and you couldn't stand the truth. You murdered him because you're nothing but cowards hiding behind power!"

Gasps echoed through the chamber as his voice rang out. The guards stiffened, glancing nervously at Dominic, who remained eerily calm.

"You accuse me, boy?" Dominic's tone was soft, but it carried a dangerous edge. "Do you know what happens to those who hurl insults at the gods they should worship?"

"You're not gods," Wilson snarled. "You're parasites. You've drained this planet dry, stolen its life for your immortality, and left the rest of us to suffer. My father was right—you're monsters!"

The room fell deathly silent. The other Ministrians exchanged looks, their expressions unreadable. Dominic's smirk disappeared, replaced by a cold, calculating glare.

"Enough," he said, his voice like steel. He motioned to the guards standing at the side of the chamber. "Bring her."

The doors opened again, and Wilson's heart dropped as two guards dragged his mother into the room. Her hands were bound, her face bruised, but her eyes still burned with defiance.

"Mom!" Wilson shouted, struggling against his chains. The guards tightened their grip, forcing him to his knees.

"Let her go!" he yelled, his voice cracking. "She has nothing to do with this!"

Dominic rose from his throne, descending the steps with an unnerving calm. He stopped a few feet away from Wilson, looking down at him as if he were an insect.

"You've already made your choice, boy," Dominic said coldly. "You refuse to cooperate, so we'll make an example of your defiance."

He turned to the guards holding his mom. "Kill her."

"No!" Wilson screamed, his voice filled with desperation. "Don't do this!"

The guards raised their weapons. Clara met her son's gaze, her lips trembling but her expression resolute. "Don't give in, Wilson," she whispered. "You're stronger than they know."

The first shot rang out, the sound deafening in the silence. The bullet struck her chest, and she staggered, gasping. A second shot followed, and she fell to the ground, her lifeless eyes still fixed on her son.

THE SURGE UNLEASHED

Time seemed to freeze. Wilson stared at his mother's body, the world around him fading into a blur. Pain, rage, and grief surged within him, intertwining with the energy that had been simmering under his skin.

Then it erupted.

A scream tore from his throat, raw and primal, as golden light exploded from his body. The energy burst outward in a shockwave, throwing the guards across the chamber like ragdolls. The pillars trembled, cracks spreading along their surfaces as the force grew.

The guards nearest to him disintegrated instantly, their bodies reduced to ash. The energy swirled around Wilson like a storm, its heat and light blinding. He could feel it—gravity itself bending to his will. The ground beneath him cracked as he rose into the air, his chains shattering like glass.

The Ministrians shielded themselves, their own powers flaring to counter the surge's energy. Dominic shouted commands, but his voice was drowned out by the roar of the energy. Wilson looked down at them, his body trembling with fury. For a moment, he considered unleashing the full force of his power on them.

But something inside him pulled him back—a faint voice, his mother's, telling him to live.

With a burst of speed, Wilson launched himself into the air, the energy carrying him higher and higher until he crashed through the chamber's ceiling. The cold night air hit his face as he flew away, his control over the power faltering. He didn't know how far he flew, only that the Ministrians hadn't caught him yet.

CRASHING INTO THE FOREST

The forest canopy appeared suddenly below him. His strength fading, Wilson plummeted, crashing through branches before hitting the ground with a heavy thud. The world spun as pain lanced through his body, the surge's energy dimming but still present.

Darkness began to creep into his vision, but before he blacked out, he saw a figure approaching—a girl with a bow slung across her back. Her silhouette was backlit by the faint glow of a campfire in the distance.

THE REBELS CAMP

When Wilson opened his eyes, he was lying on a makeshift cot inside a large tent. The scent of herbs filled the air, and the faint murmur of voices echoed outside. His body ached, but the energy inside him had settled into a faint hum.

"You're awake," a voice said.

He turned his head to see the girl sitting beside him. She was around his age, with dark hair tied back in a braid and sharp green eyes that seemed to pierce through him.

"You're lucky I found you," she said. "You'd have bled out if you'd landed any further from the camp."

"Where am I?" Wilson croaked, his throat dry.

"The rebel camp," she replied. "My name's Sara-fin. My father leads the resistance against the Ministrians."

The girl tilted her head, curious but not pressing the point. "You were carrying some serious power back there. What happened?"

Wilson hesitated, memories of his mother's death flashing before him. He clenched his fists, his voice trembling. "They… they killed her. Right in front of me. And then… I don't know. Something inside me broke. The surge—it's inside me."

Sara-fin's eyes widened. "The surge? You're saying the Ministrians' power core is inside you?"

Wilson nodded, feeling a lump rise in his throat. "I didn't ask for this. I just—" His voice cracked, and he looked away.

Sara-fin placed a hand on his shoulder. "You're not alone anymore," she said firmly. "We've been fighting the Ministrians for years, but with you… we might actually have a chance."

Wilson looked at her, searching her face for doubt but finding only determination. For the first time since the surge entered him, he felt a flicker of hope.