The moonlight that had lit the stone disappeared like a light switched off, and I shivered, pulling my coat around me.
This felt like a terrible idea, but I was here now, so I may as well step onto the stone. It wasn’t as if I believed in any of that other world nonsense. It seemed as fantastical to me now as it had when I was a child.
But even though something in the back of my brain screamed at me to run, I stepped onto the center stone.
CHAPTER TWO
Jon
One last mission and I could start my new life. I took a deep breath, forcing my tense shoulders to relax. A few more days wouldn't matter to me. I had waited so long. I shifted in my seat; the harness chafing against my groin where it held me securely in place.
Just one last mission to an abandoned planet with an incompetent fool as a commander. I glanced sideways at the young male piloting the shuttle, who made up the other half of the two-person crew, gritting my teeth as he fumbled with the shuttle’s controls.
Again.
I ground my teeth together, frustrated that I—the more experienced pilot—was once again relegated to passenger because of my low birth. The only thing I had in common with my colleague was our family name, Luk. He was ranked 8thin line to lead the family, with the name designator Luk 8th, whereas I was 456thin line to lead the family. I was anobody. I could hardly forget the fact when I was reminded every day of how low I ranked.
Those who were within spitting distance of the power that came with being the head of the family were called the Elite. Luk 8thwas an Elite, but I was nothing. So low in rank that I barely warranted notice. I was barely a step above the unranked that were treated barely better than slaves.
I scowled at Luk 8thas he struggled to keep the ship level, crossing my arms across my broad chest.
Just be patient.
In a few days, I would no longer be known as Luk 456th. Instead, I would be known by my chosen name, Jon. No family name. No previous life. I could create a life I wanted, not one that was dictated by my birth.
I could not wait.
The shuttle shook as we broke through a layer of cloud. Luk 8thswiped a hand over his brow, mopping sweat away quickly before grabbing the controls once more, his knuckles white. At this rate, it would be a miracle if the young fool didn’t crash our shuttle on approach to the planet, let alone get us to where we needed to go. My fingers tightened on the armrest, and I released a slow breath.
It had taken months to organize my passage to the exile planet, and the parcel of land I had visited only once before purchasing. Land I intended to farm with my own hands. I had already paid, and if I missed the departure, I wouldn’t get my money back. I had one chance for freedom, and I wouldn’t let anything get in my way.
Especially not some twig of an Elite, such as Luk 8th. I was going to escape the Gnaggarrian Empire and all that it stood for. I scoffed. Rights for the lowest ranked Gnaggarrians, likeme, were restricted. I couldn’t vote. I couldn’t own property. I had limited education and health options.
But no more.
I could almost taste the clean water of the exile planet, could almost feel the loose soil of land I owned—soil I would grow vegetables in—beneath my bare feet. Breathing in the fresh air would be a luxury after years of recycled space station air.
I had enough money saved to build a modest home, something to call my own, and for the first time in my twenty-seven years, I was hopeful for a future where I had some control.
I scowled, shooting a look at Luk 8th. We might share a family name, but that was it. Through the circumstances of our births, he had more worth than me. All because of the marks on my skin that I was born with. Or, more accurately, born without.
All Gnaggarrians had spots, roughly the size of a fingernail, on their skin. The more markings you have, the higher in rank you are in Gnaggarrian society. Luk 8thwas practically covered in these spots. They started on his scalp, spilling from underneath his purple-streaked brown hair that he wore in a warrior’s braid, and trailed down his temples and neck to wrap around his torso. He even had the markings on his arms and legs, which was uncommon even for an Elite.
Unlike Luk 8th, I had only a scattered handful of the darker spots on my body, barely a shade darker than my pale purple skin, concentrated on one side of my neck and across my back. It was clear who was the Elite. There weren’t many Gnaggarrians with more Elite markings than Luk 8th.
Children of Elites born without markings were a shame upon their parents. These children were conferred low rankand discarded by their ashamed parents to be raised in orphanages. Many of Elite ranking had attempted to manipulate their genetic code to produce more marks on their children’s skin, but the secrets of the markings had eluded even the most advanced scientific analysis.
And so the archaic practice of discarding unmarked children born of Elites continued.
Just like my parents had discarded me.
I pushed the thought aside. I had been discarded, yes. But my life would soon be my own, and I almost felt pity for the Elites who were bound by their strict customs. I shot a look at Luk 8th.
For Luk 8thto become the head of his family, seven others would need to die. But for me to reach that lofty height? All you had to do was hear my name to know how many came before me. Luk 456th.
A nobody.
The only people lower than me were those without a ranked family name. Those who were known only by their chosen name, which, to even the lowest of the ranked Gnaggarrians, was akin to airing your deepest, darkest secrets in public.
