So I try to slow my racing heart, breathe steadily, and assess the situation. I’m buried, yes. But there’s air here, and I can move my head, my shoulders, even my arms a little. Good. My breathing stirs up more dust and that shows me which way is up, and also that there’s a little light seeping in somewhere. And if there’s any light at all, it means I can’t be too far from the surface.

There’s no room for me to move my arms, but I struggle anyway, trying to push against the shattered stone and concrete I’m trapped under. It doesn’t do any good, of course. I’m not a vatborn with genetically enhanced strength or even a natural powerhouse like my adoptive brother, Ivan. I’m tall but slight and built like a regular human, with only moderately more physical ability. I’m not even sure if the most highly trained of the vatborn would be able to dig his way out of here; there’s no way I have any shot at all.

But then One’s face enters my mind again—her wry, affectionate eye roll, the way she would look at me like, Really? That’s all you’ve got? And something occurs to me. It’s not all I’ve got. Not anymore. I may not have strength, but I do have power.

I focus on the rocks around me, knowing that, with my Legacy—the Legacy that One gave me—I can shake all these debris clear. I close my eyes and focus on it, picturing the rubble shaking and splitting, moving away from me until I’m free.

Nothing happens. It doesn’t budge. “Move, dammit,” I think, and then I realize that I’ve actually said the words aloud without meaning to. Either way, the rocks don’t pay any attention.

Suddenly I’m angry. First I’m angry at myself: for being so stupid, for being so weak, for not having mastered the gift that One gave me. For getting myself to this place at all.

But it isn’t my fault. I was only trying to do what was right. It’s not myself I should be angry at—it’s my people, the Mogadorians who got me here. The Mogadorians, who worship brute force and believe that war is a way of life.

Soon I can feel my rage coursing through my body. Nothing in my life has ever been fair. I never had a shot at all. I think about Ivan, who was a best friend to me. We grew up together, and then he betrayed me. He tried to kill me—more than once.