"What happened to your throat?" Mother asked as she walked through the door shortly after Kanden entered the quarters. He hadn't gone to his room yet, instead opting to wait for Father to return. His room was his sanctuary, and he didn't want anyone in there unless he expressed consent. Unfortunately, with this being a family unit, there wasn't much privacy. His parents were free to do what they wanted until Kanden married and was assigned his own quarters.

Kanden hadn't looked into any of the tarnished mirrors since his arrival, but his neck still hurt from where Blaze had cut off his air supply. Still shaken, he'd curled onto the busted two-seater sofa that had seen better days. The fabric itself had been replaced recently, but without spare parts, the frame creaked, and springs poked uncomfortable places through the worn cushions.

Staring at his feet, he shrugged. "You'll hear soon enough," he said quietly. It still hurt to speak; Blaze had pressed really hard on his windpipe, but the pain was manageable now.

The couch squeaked as Mother sat and drew one leg up, angling herself toward her son. Then she pressed the tips of her fingers on Kanden's knees – something she only did when he rocked back and forth without realizing it as a gentle reminder to calm his movements. "Sweetie, look at me."

He did, but only for a second before his gaze dropped again. Eye contact made him uncomfortable, leaving him exposed and vulnerable as if the person opposite could peer into his soul.

Opening her arms, she waited for him to accept her invitation for a hug, and he scooted closer so she could wrap him in a protective cocoon. Swaying in time with him, she rubbed his back for a moment before ruffling his hair. Then she moved backward, breaking contact and watching him with ferocity and concern storming behind her gray irises. "Where were you tonight? I'm going to find out anyway, so you might as well tell me."

The Caverns were a small community in the overall grand scheme of things, and gossip traveled quickly. Father would have the information out of Blaze and his friends within minutes. Kanden had heard stories over the years of his brutality with suspects. Father always got a confession, and each prisoner was executed with ruthless retribution. Though the deaths were swift, they were not without pain, and each person met their demise with their eyes frozen in terror.

In nineteen years, Kanden had witnessed enough death to haunt his soul several lifetimes over.

Staring at the floor, he rocked back and forth for a moment, holding his breath every few seconds in a vain attempt to calm his racing heart and aching chest. Not that it ever worked, but he'd learned long ago anxiety attacks dissipated in their own time.

Breathe in through the nose. Hold. Release slowly. And repeat. Again and again and again.

"Kanden? Are you going to answer me?" Mother's tone was soft and inviting, but it also demanded an answer.

Expelling another breath and keeping his gaze on the pockmarked floor, he replied, "I went to the Underground party in the old mine shaft." He didn't say doomsday because that just sounded weird, and it seemed callous to celebrate death.

Her tired sigh wrapped itself around Kanden's heart, squeezing with guilt. He hated disappointing her.

"Why were you there? You hate crowds."

He stood and went into his room, sliding beneath his bunk to retrieve the sample he'd acquired. Then he returned to the living area and held the jar out up Mother. "You and Marina need this."

Warm pride and gratitude brightened her grey eyes as she accepted the jar. Tracing her finger over the cap, she examined it in silence. After a moment, her mouth curved into a soft smile. "You're a good person," she murmured. "We live in darkness, captive to our tomb and denied a life in the Overland."

She shook her head as if to dispel an unpleasant thought. Sadness seeped into her tone, chasing away her small ray of light. "I worry we'll be stuck here for the rest of our existence. That for all our efforts, humankind will never reclaim the beautiful world our ancestors took for granted. And we'd deserve it. Even down here, with a handful of survivors, we can't be better. Maybe this virus is our punishment."

Wow, that spiraled quickly. Kanden just wanted to deliver a sample; not hear a doomsday speech.

He lifted his hand in an awkward movement to pat her hand or shoulder or something, but decided against it. Dropping it back to his side, he shifted his weight between each foot. "Were you going somewhere with all this?" he blurted.

Startled amusement crossed Mother's features before she burst into a laugh. "Sorry, that got away from me. I'd only meant to say you're too good for this world."

Oh. Well, that was nice.

"Give me a moment to put this away." Without another word, Mother disappeared into her sleeping quarters and came back a minute later, sans the jar. Then she went into the small kitchen space — larger than the average person's allotted area, but bare of homely decor — and placed a kettle on the warmer. Herbs in a container sat on the cracked countertops, and she pinched the dried plants, dropping them into the kettle before closing the metal lid.

Kanden sat while she did her thing, too mentally exhausted to do anything, including hiding inside his room. His parents would bother him anyway; Mother with her good intentions and overwhelming need to smother him in affection and hugs, and Father with his volatile mood.

Soon, Mother returned with a small metal container and opened it. An unfamiliar aroma, not unpleasant with earthy flora properties, drifted from it, clearing Kanden's nose and throat when he inhaled.

"What's this?" he asked as Mother swiped a generous amount of a clear semi-solid paste with two fingers and applied it to his neck.

The effect was almost immediate, releasing a cooling sensation against his skin. Whatever it was, he decided it should be in every household.

Finished applying the salve, Mother closed the container and pocketed it. "It's a healing balm made from our restricted herbs.

Kanden lifted a brow and studied her. His neck tingled now, evoking a desire to rub the affected area. "We don't have restricted plants," he stated, certain he'd heard wrong.

A knowing smile crossed Mother's features. "We do, but we don't announce it. In the days before we were forced underground, these plants were known for their medicinal and potent  mind-altering qualities."

Folding her thin hands in her lap, Mother pursed her lips for a moment and furrowed her brow like she often did when she was trying to articulate her thoughts. "I don't know the full history behind the use of cannabis, but I believe... oh, what was it called? Grass?"

Kanden scrunched his nose. "No one harvests grass."

"Not actual grass," she said through a loud giggle. "The terminology has been lost to us, but thought you would find it interesting. We use these herbs to relieve pain, and in rare cases, ease one's passing during the final stages of terminal illness.

Oh? The substance piqued his curiosity for several reasons. First, he wondered how they'd kept such a thing secret, given everyone's penchant for substance abuse during non-working hours. Also, where did they keep it? The greenhouse certainly didn't have it. Kanden would know; he'd covered every inch of the gardens. Also, there was a more serious question on his mind, one he needed to ask in case there were no other alternatives.

"Have you been using this for..." His words tailed off, inviting Mother to contradict him.

She shook her head. "No. Ryker and I have been working to figure out what's causing this sickness. Marina didn't find anything in your samples yet, but she has determined from the fecal analysis this isn't a virus."

"What is it?" he demanded, interested in the sudden revelation and what it could mean for Ryker.

She opened her mouth right as the front door opened. Father stood in the threshold, wearier than ever. The man had a permanent scowl, but tonight, he seemed exhausted. Deep lines marred his craggy face, and troubled emotions swirled behind his dark eyes.

Gaze landing on his wife and son, he sighed. "You're both needed at the square." Addressing Kanden, he added, "We're carrying out the executions now."

What? Usually that waited until the morning. People would still be at the party while others slept in their quarters in preparation for the next day.

"You aren't angry with me?" Kanden asked, scooting backward into the couch's backrest.

Father's eyes narrowed for a moment before he shook his head. "Zephyr recounted the incident. I can't say I'm pleased with you being at that party, but Blaze and his family have always been troublesome. With the way he behaved, I'm convinced he was looking for an opportunity to get you alone."

That was new. Kanden had expected worse — had dreaded it. He'd almost counted on Father asking what his son had done to provoke the attack or why he'd placed himself in that situation. He hadn't anticipated a reasonable response.

He almost asked what changed, but bit his tongue before he could invite himself to trouble. Instead, he glanced at the floor and fidgeted with his torn shirt. "Do I have to be there? I'd rather not watch."

"Yes. Clearly, everyone needs a reminder of what happens when the law is broken. And more productive activities to occupy their time."

Damn it. The parties were probably one of the few ways to forget how much this existence sucked. People weren't meant to be confined or isolated.

His eyes flickered upward, clashing with Father's stern glare. The older man spoke in a way that left no room for debate. "Don't argue. Let's have this done with so I can get to sleep. It's been a long day, and your lack of judgment combined with Blaze's audacity didn't help."

There it was; the heavy disappointment mixed with judgment. Father didn't possess a drop of empathy or compassion.

Kanden nodded and approached the threshold, standing six feet away. Mother joined him, and he followed behind her as the trio walked in silence.

Most of the tunnels were empty, save a few clusters of people in worn sleep clothes or beer-stained threads. No one said anything, but they didn't need to. Word of an execution would have travelled at the speed of light, and everyone knew not to ask. They'd know the charges once they arrived at the square in front of the conservatory, soaked by years of blood spilled in retribution.

A platform had been erected in the center, where Blaze and his friends kneeled, restrained by handcuffs behind their backs. All stared at the ground; the companions troubled with one shaking in silent sobs. Unlike the others, Blaze showed no emotion.

A crowd had already formed, but unlike the party, the quiet deafened the open cavern. Everyone pressed into each other — some standing on their toes to see while others kept their heads down and shoulders hunched. Expectation weighed everyone down in one way or another.

Father detached himself from their party and marched straight to the dais. Mother led Kanden around the crowd, stopping when she reached Marina, who leaned against a wall with her arms folded across her chest. Mother whispered something to her, and the younger woman nodded.

Facing Kanden, Mother gently touched his arm. "I have to join the Council," she murmured. "Stay with Marina and try not to blame yourself. I still don't know what happened, but I agree with your father about Blaze. That boy has always been awful to you."

She offered him a final smile before leaving them alone, and Marina reached for him. "Come here, pequeño."

Kanden obeyed and wrapped an arm around her thick waist. She was one of the few people he trusted enough to allow physical contact, and her gesture had only become welcoming in the past two years. Before, it had been deeply uncomfortable, causing more stress than providing the intended comfort.

"I don't want to watch this," he mumbled.

"What happened?"

He shrugged. "I'm honestly not sure. One minute, I was minding my business, and the next, he was attacking me."

"His father died a couple of weeks ago," she whispered. "I heard he didn't handle it well."

A family death was a strong reason for Blaze's emotions, and sympathy for the loss washed over Kanden. He didn't like his bully, but that didn't mean the other man deserved to die over his grief. Like everyone else, he probably hadn't had a support system or even an opportunity to process what had happened.

"Maybe that's why he accused me of trying to poison everyone at the party tonight."

Marina's breath hitched. "Did he really say that?" she demanded.

Kanden nodded, but couldn't elaborate or ask about the troubled gleam in her earth-toned eyes. Father took that moment to face the crowd and signal for their attention. Even in the back, Kanden didn't miss the ferocity burning in the older man's serious features or the way his shoulders coiled like he was ready to attack someone. His gaze briefly traveled to Blaze, who returned Father's glare with unmasked hatred.

Sneering, Father redirected his attention to the gathered population. "Citizens of the Underground, we are gathered here tonight not in celebration or to announce the end of these troublesome times. More than ever, we need to remain united as we seek a cure for the illness sweeping through our community. We have all lost someone dear to us, and we will likely bid farewell to more before we see better days. It pains me to bear witness to more death and be the one to enforce our laws; however, it is a necessary evil if we wish to survive and maintain order."

Murmurs rippled through the crowd as Father angled himself to face the accused while keeping himself visible. His voice rang across the open space, echoing off the walls. "Blaze Everhill, Heath Spark, and Flint Rockhart are accused and found guilty by the Council for assault with intent to kill. Witness accounts testify these men acted on their own — unprovoked against their fellow citizen and conspired to tamper with evidence. For the victim's privacy, we shall withhold their name. Our laws are clear in the matter of all crime: execution. Though exceptions in the past have been granted for exceptional circumstances, we have decided the accused will not benefit from such a mercy. They will break the law again, and next time, might succeed in killing someone."

Chills shuddered in Kanden's veins. Zephyr had said this too, albeit in easier terminology, that criminals didn't change. Were those shared sentiments genuine, or had Father brainwashed him to believe people had no good in their hearts?

"Are you okay?" Marina whispered, squeezing Kanden's shoulder. "You're swaying like you're going to pass out."

Trembling, Kanden wheezed, "I can't watch anymore. I'm going to be sick."

"It's okay," she promised as she brought him closer. "Just close your eyes. Your father never draws these out. It'll be over soon."

Thank the gods Father hadn't disclosed his identity. The people would happily riot if they discovered the men died at the hands of the victim's father. As a Council member, he and Mother would be accused of corruption and eliminating dissenters. Something like that had happened once, a little over a century ago, and the violence resulted in dozens of deaths. Nearly a hundred more had been executed. Since then, everything but the crime itself remained secret.

Taking a baton from another soldier, Father approached Blaze and pressed the tip to the bound man's forehead.

Aware of the horror about to come, Kanden buried his face into Marina's shoulder. Not this, not this, not this.

Despite keeping his eyes closed, Father's voice carried over to him with the clarity of a bell. "Do you have any final words, Blaze?"

Blaze's tone dripped with venom, booming over the crowd with the force of a drum. "I'll see you burn in Hell, Calvorite!"

A sharp bang reverberated off the walls, followed by a tumbling thud and gut wrenching squelch. Kanden knew from memory a large spike sprang from the tip at the press of a button. The deaths were instant and gory, giving a merciful death while scaring the citizens into submission. The eyes often remained open, forever locked in their final moments with the realization this was the end.

Two bangs followed, and the crowd soon dispersed after a short speech. The moment they were permitted to leave, Kanden ran toward the lab, fast as he could, and threw up.