MORTAL FREEDOM

The walls of the Ministry loomed over the horizon, their dark spires stretching high into the sky like claws piercing the clouds. Kroll's steps faltered as he approached the gates, his armor battered and his pride shattered. The weight of his failure hung heavily on him. His men followed in silence, their faces weary, their gazes darting nervously toward the prisoner they escorted Sara-fin.

Bound and surrounded by Ministrian guards, Sara-fin kept her head low, refusing to let Kroll or his men see her fear. But inside, her chest burned with a mix of anger and hopelessness. Memories of the camp swirled in her mind her father standing defiantly, her brother fighting against impossible odds, and the rebels collapsing under the weight of the Ministrians' attack. Most of all, she remembered Wilson. She remembered the way he had hesitated, the way he had abandoned her.

Her heart twisted, but she refused to let the tears fall. Not here. Not in front of them.

As they reached the Ministry's towering gate, it creaked open slowly, the grinding sound echoing across the barren landscape. Two lines of guards stood at attention on either side of the entrance, their faces obscured by dark helmets. Lord Phil waited at the gates, his black cape billowing slightly in the wind. His cold, calculating eyes scanned Kroll and his bedraggled men with disdain.

"Kroll," Phil said, his voice dripping with contempt. "I expected more from you."

Kroll straightened, forcing himself to meet Phil's gaze. "The rebels were more prepared than anticipated," he said through gritted teeth. "But we've captured this one." He gestured toward Sara-fin.

Phil's eyes flicked to her, narrowing slightly. "One rebel girl? That's all you have to show after losing most of your men?"

"She's not just any rebel," Kroll said quickly, stepping forward. His voice took on a desperate edge as he continued, "This girl is the key to capturing Wilson Tanga. She's important to him. With her, we can draw him out."

Phil's expression didn't change, but the faintest glint of interest flickered in his eyes. "And why should I believe you? Your failure at the camp already speaks volumes about your... competence."

One of the guards shifted, his hand brushing against the hilt of his weapon. Kroll noticed, his heart racing. He knew what Phil was capable of and how easily expendable he was in the eyes of the Ministry.

Before Phil could give the signal, Kroll spoke again, louder this time. "Wilson abandoned her! She despises him for it, but she knows him, his patterns, his weaknesses. She's the perfect bait. If we play this right, we can finally put an end to the rebellion and reclaim the Surge."

Phil paused, his expression unreadable. Slowly, he turned to Sara-fin, his piercing gaze settling on her. "Is what he says true?"

Sara-fin didn't respond, her lips pressed into a thin line.

Phil smirked faintly. "Silent. That's fine. We'll see how long that lasts."

He turned back to Kroll. "Very well. But this is your last chance, Kroll. If this plan fails, you won't live to see the fallout."

Kroll exhaled slowly, nodding. "Understood."

SARA-FIN'S FIRST TIME AT THE MINISTRY

The Ministry was a place Sara-fin had only ever heard about in stories dark, twisted tales of torture and domination. Seeing it now, walking through its cold, shadowed halls, was worse than anything her imagination had conjured.

The walls were smooth, obsidian black, and lit by dim, flickering lights that cast long, ominous shadows. Every corner seemed to hum faintly, a low vibration that sent chills down her spine. It was as though the Surge itself was alive within these walls, twisted and weaponized by the Ministrians for their own purposes.

The guards dragged her forward, their iron grips bruising her arms. Despite her best efforts to appear strong, her steps faltered as they entered a grand chamber.

Lord Dominic stood at the far end of the room, his imposing figure framed by a massive window that overlooked the Ministry's capital. The light from the setting sun cast an eerie glow around him, accentuating his sharp, regal features and the golden veins that pulsed faintly under his skin.

Sara-fin's breath hitched. She had heard of Dominic, the man who ruled Mage with an iron fist, but seeing him in person was something else entirely. His presence was suffocating, an aura of power and authority that made her feel small and insignificant.

Dominic turned slowly as the guards brought her closer, his cold, piercing gaze settling on her. For a moment, he said nothing, letting the silence stretch out until it became unbearable.

"So," Dominic said finally, his voice low and smooth. "This is the girl who caused all this trouble."

Sara-fin clenched her fists, refusing to look away despite the fear coiling in her stomach.

"She's more than just a rebel," Phil interjected, stepping forward. "She claims to be the daughter of their leader, Mr. Brian. And if Kroll is to be believed, she has... connections to Wilson Tanga."

Dominic raised an eyebrow, his interest clearly piqued. "Is that so?"

He stepped closer, towering over Sara-fin. "Tell me, girl. Who are you? And what is your connection to the boy?"

For a moment, Sara-fin considered staying silent. But as Dominic's gaze bore into her, she realized there was no use in lying. If she wanted any chance of survival, she would have to tell the truth but not everything.

"I'm Sara-fin," she said, her voice trembling despite her best efforts. "Daughter of Mr. Brian... and Wilson..." She hesitated, her throat tightening. "He abandoned me. He's nothing to me."

Dominic studied her for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then, to her surprise, he smiled.

"Well, isn't this fortunate," he said, his voice laced with amusement. "Two birds with one stone. The daughter of the rebel leader and a connection to Wilson Tanga. I must say, you've exceeded my expectations, Phil."

Phil inclined his head. "What are your orders, my lord?"

Dominic turned, his smile fading into something more calculating. "Take her to the cells. Make sure she's... comfortable enough to talk when the time comes. We'll deal with her when the time is right."

Phil hesitated. "And what of Wilson?"

Dominic's gaze hardened. "We wait, Phil. The boy will come to us. They always do."

SARA-FIN'S DESPAIR

The guards dragged Sara-fin down a long, winding staircase, their heavy boots echoing against the stone walls. The air grew colder with each step, the faint hum of the Surge replaced by the distant drip of water and the muffled cries of other prisoners.

When they reached the cells, the guards shoved her into a small, damp room. The door slammed shut behind her, leaving her alone in the dim light of a single flickering torch.

For a moment, Sara-fin simply stood there, staring at the cracked stone walls. Then, slowly, the weight of everything crashed down on her.

Her father. Her brother. The rebels. She had seen them all fall. She had seen the look in Wilson's eyes as he ran, leaving her behind.

"No one's coming," she whispered, her voice breaking.

The tears came then, hot and bitter. She sank to the floor, burying her face in her hands as sobs wracked her body. For the first time since the attack, she let herself grieve.

But as the minutes passed, her sobs subsided, replaced by a quiet, simmering anger. She thought of her father, of the rebels who had fought so bravely, of the cause they believed in. And she thought of Wilson, the boy who had abandoned her when she needed him most.

Her hands clenched into fists.

If no one was coming for her, then she would have to find her own way out.