I think about my father, who didn’t think twice about letting the Mogadorian scientists experiment on me with machines that had been completely untested and came close to frying my brain. It was nothing to him to risk sacrificing me for the cause.

And what cause was that? The cause of creating more destruction, of killing more people and gaining more power for himself. But power over what? When we’d conquered Lorien, we’d left it a lifeless, destroyed husk of a planet. There was nothing left on Lorien to rule. Was that what we were going to do to Earth too?

For people like my father, that’s not the point. The point is war. The point is winning. To him, I was just another potential weapon to be used and discarded. That’s all anyone’s ever been worth to him.

The more I think about it, the more I feel my mind racing with rage. I hate him. I hate Ivan. I hate Setrákus Ra and the Good Book for teaching them all that this is the right way to live. I hate them all.

My fingers and toes start to tingle. I feel the rocks around me start to tremble. I’m doing it. My Legacy is working. You can let your anger destroy you, or you can use it for something. I close my eyes again, clench my fists, and scream as loud as I can, letting all my fury out in one big burst. And with a massive whoosh, the dirt and stone and rubble begin to shake and crumble. My body is shaking all over, and the ground is shaking too. Before long, it’s all slid away, and I’m free again. It’s as if a giant shovel has scooped me out.

But someone else isn’t as lucky. Not ten feet away from me, a Mogadorian soldier is wedged beneath what looks like part of a shattered steel doorframe.

He groans and stirs now that the weight’s been lifted.

He’s as alive as I am. Awesome.

CHAPTER TWO

I PULL MYSELF TO MY FEET, STAGGERING A bit. My whole body aches like I’ve just been squeezed in a giant vise, but I don’t think anything’s broken. I’m covered in dirt and dust and sweat and, yes, some blood, but not a lot of that either. Somehow, I’ve managed to avoid any serious injury. I don’t know how, and I don’t really care.

The other Mogadorian isn’t so lucky. As I stand, he lets out a low groan, but he doesn’t look up at me or move. He’s so beaten up that he barely seems to realize he’s not buried anymore. I don’t even think he realizes I’m here.