Page 105 of Dark Shaman: Love Found
He walked over to the communication panel, activating the island-wide broadcast system. His voice would reach every corner of his domain, every soldier still fighting, and every rebel still harboring dreams of victory.
"Attention all forces," he said, his voice carrying the weight of absolute authority. "The leader of the rebellion is dead."
He pressed another control, and the final moments of the tunnel collapse began broadcasting on every screen across the island. The footage showed the enhanced soldiers realizing that they were trapped, their futile attempts to escape, and the compeller's last moments before the concrete crushed him.
"The enhanced ones who led this rebellion are buried and will remain so for eternity," Navuh continued. "Instead of using their evolution to achieve greatness in the name of Mortdh, their arrogance has led them to a tomb."
He paused, letting that sink in, imagining the rebels across the island watching their champions fall, their hope crumbling like the tunnel that had entombed their leaders.
"To those still fighting, I offer a choice. Surrender now, lay down your weapons, and you will be imprisoned ratherthan executed. This offer expires in fifteen minutes. After that, no quarter will be given."
It was unprecedented. Navuh had never offered mercy to traitors before, had always preferred to eliminate troublemakers, but he needed test subjects for whoever would replace Zhao. He wanted to understand what had gone wrong with the enhancement process, and how to control the subjects without compromising their physical advantages.
The regular soldiers who had been compelled to join the rebellion were not responsible for their actions. He would punish them, then return them to service. After all, they had been victims of mind manipulation rather than traitors. Besides, he didn't want to lose so many fighters.
He turned back to his generals, who were receiving reports from across the island.
"Eastern sector reporting: enhanced soldiers retreating," Vakon read from his tablet.
"Northern checkpoint: rebels laying down weapons," Tharon added.
"Western barracks: enhanced soldiers attempting to flee toward the docks," another reported.
"They won't get far," Navuh said. "Have our forces surround them. No one escapes, enhanced or not. The regular soldiers who surrender are to be detained separately."
The tide had turned in minutes. Without their compeller and leadership, the rebellion was collapsing. The enhancedsoldiers who remained were dangerous but directionless. Some would fight to the death, while others would try to escape, but none would succeed.
36
TAMIRA
The explosion that rocked the basement was different from the others—deeper, more fundamental, as if the very bones of the earth were breaking. The ceiling didn't just shake, it seemed to ripple. Dust didn't drift down; it poured in thick curtains that turned the air opaque.
Tamira knew with absolute certainty that this was it. Any moment now, the rebels would cut through the reinforced door or find someone who knew the code to open it for them. They would come for the spoils of war, for the beauties that Navuh had sequestered for thousands of years.
They would rip them apart, break their bones, and watch them mend only to do it again.
Her hand moved to the small of her back, to the kitchen knife she'd smuggled into the basement. It wasn't a weapon, but it could do what needed to be done.
The blade was sharp enough.
As the basement continued to shake, as the servants screamed and even the guards looked uncertain, Tamira pulled the knife free and pressed it into Elias's hand beneath the cover of swirling dust and chaos.
"Get ready," she whispered, her lips barely moving.
Horror turned his face more ashen than all the dust and plaster that had rained on them. He looked at the knife as if it were a venomous snake, then at her, his eyes wide with revulsion.
"Tamira, no?—"
"You promised," she said quietly. "If they breach that door, if they come for us, you promised you wouldn't let them take me."
His hand trembled as he took the knife, sliding it beneath his thighs to hide it from view. She could see the war in his eyes, the battle between his promise to protect her and his inability to imagine harming her.
She wanted to comfort him, to tell him it would be all right, but they both knew that would be a lie.
"Look at the guards," Sarah whispered from beside them.
Tamira turned her attention to the immortal warriors stationed around them. These were men who'd lived for centuries and fought in countless battles. They had faced death more times than she could imagine, and they were terrified.
