Ethan’s helped me see these things. He’s helped me realize that I have a choice in this war, even though the Elders didn’t want me to have one. It was strange at first to find out that my best friend was working for the Mogs—and that I’d technically been under Mog care for the better part of a year without knowing it—but I can’t blame Ethan for keeping things a secret from me at first. I’d been so brainwashed by my Cêpan’s stories of the Garde triumphing over the armies of the Mogs and returning Lorien to its former glory that I probably wouldn’t have seen reason if he’d been up front with me at the beginning. Ethan is what some of the Mog commanders here have called a rare example of a human who has the intelligence to side with the winning team.

Still, it’s so strange to be here underground. I’m technically an honored guest of Setrákus Ra, but I haven’t proved myself yet. All they have is my word that I’m now loyal to them, but words don’t carry a lot of weight with the Mogs. They believe in action, and results. And so I study and train and wait for the day when I get the chance to show them I am capable and ready to lead in their name. I follow orders. Because even though someday in the future I’ll become invaluable to the Mogs, right now I’m just a former enemy living under their roof.

I’m buried in a book about the founding of America—particularly the expansion of European empires across the country—when Ethan comes into my study, flashing the toothy grin he always has plastered on his face.

“Good afternoon, Five,” he says.

“Hey,” I say, closing the book in front of me. Ethan’s arrival means study time must be over. As much as I’m looking forward to being in charge of Canada and the United States, reading about the endless cycles of wars they’ve been caught up in can be monotonous. At least once the Mogs take over, war will be a thing of the past. There’ll be no armies capable of standing up to them.

“How did you find today’s reading?”

“There was some pretty dirty chemical warfare going on back when Columbus and other explorers were first coming over. Smallpox blankets? It’s kind of insane.”

Ethan’s grin doesn’t flinch.

“The beginning of every great empire is stained with a little blood,” he says. “Wouldn’t you say it was worth it?”

I don’t answer immediately. Ethan’s eyes shift almost imperceptibly, but I catch them. He’s glanced at the one-way mirror at the other end of my desk. It’s easy to see what he’s getting at. Others are watching. Here in the Mog compound, someone is always watching.

I tense up a little. I’m still not used to being under constant surveillance. But it’s necessary, as Ethan’s explained, so that the Mogs know they can trust me. It makes me only want to say things that will impress whoever’s watching, or show off how smart I am. I’m getting better at keeping my brain focused on that.