Joel hesitated at the edge of the courtyard, his mind racing as Gideon’s words echoed in his head. The offer was tempting—too tempting, almost. But something felt off, like a knot in his stomach that wouldn’t loosen. His eyes wandered, scanning the area around him, seeking the answers that instinct told him were hidden in plain sight.


    That’s when he saw them.


    Lining the far side of the courtyard, just beyond the tall stone pillars and rusted fencing, were rows of cages. Small, cramped, and built from thick iron bars, they rattled in the wind, casting long shadows over the dirt ground. It was hard to tell at first, but as Joel crawled closer, he could see them clearly—the people inside.


    His heart thudded in his chest, and his throat tightened as he caught sight of their hollow eyes and gaunt faces. Some sat huddled together, their bodies too weak to even stand, while others pressed themselves against the bars, eyes wild with desperation.


    Joel crawled back to the rabbit leader. “Who...?” Joel’s voice caught in his throat, barely a whisper.


    Gideon, who had been standing a few feet away, turned slowly, following Joel’s gaze. “Those,” he began, his voice strangely calm, “are the price of power. The price of survival.” He paused, letting the words linger in the air like a bitter taste. “They are the ones who failed to meet the expectations. The ones who weren’t strong enough. They serve a purpose... in time.”


    Joel’s fists clenched at his sides, the urge to lash out at the rabbit beside him burning hotter with every second. But he forced himself to stay calm, his thoughts racing. These weren’t just prisoners—they were victims, broken and discarded by the lizard clan. Whatever Gideon was proposing, Joel realized it might be their only chance to save these people.


    The cage nearest to them rattled suddenly, the sound sharp in the heavy silence. Joel’s heart ached as he saw a thin, trembling hand reach through the rusted bars. The figure inside—a boy, no older than fifteen, his gaunt face streaked with dirt—looked almost lifeless, yet his eyes burned with a mix of fear and hope.


    Joel felt as if their gazes locked, though the boy likely couldn’t see him through the shadows. Still, his voice cut through the air, raw and desperate.


    “Please… help us,” the boy begged, his words breaking and trembling as if he’d been screaming for hours. “Don’t let them do this to us. We’re not animals, please…”


    Joel’s breath hitched as a towering lizardman stepped into view, its heavy frame casting a shadow over the cage. The beast loomed above the boy, its eyes narrowing in disdain. With a cruel sneer, it lashed out, slamming a clawed hand against the cage bars, making the boy recoil in fear.


    “Silence,” the lizardman snarled, its guttural voice dripping with contempt. “You’ll speak when I allow it.”


    The boy shrank back, his small frame trembling, but his gaze lingered for just a moment longer, pleading silently with the unseen figures in the dark. Joel’s jaw tightened, the weight of the boy’s words sinking into his chest like a stone.


    Joel’s blood ran cold, and for a moment, he could do nothing but stare. Was this what he had walked into? Was this the world Gideon wanted him to join? No, Joel’s gut was telling him this was the world Gideon wanted him to stop.


    “Enough of this,” Gideon said, his voice sharp now, cutting through the air like a blade. The warmth from before was gone, replaced by something colder, more impatient. “These people are a means to an end, Joel. Nothing more. They know what happens to the weak. It isn’t like there’s someone strong enough to save them, is there?”


    But Joel didn’t move. He couldn’t. His gaze remained fixed on the boy in the cage, the haunting echo of his plea reverberating through Joel’s mind. The raw desperation in those words clung to him, twisting like a knife in his chest.


    This isn’t right.


    His mind screamed at him to walk away, to turn around and let this world tear itself apart, but his feet stayed rooted to the ground. His thoughts drifted to Oliver, to the life they’d dreamed of building together. A better world. A world where their daughter could grow up safe and unbroken.


    This—this wasn’t that world. Not yet.


    This wasn’t right. The boy’s plea echoed in Joel’s ears, twisting his gut, but it wasn’t just the scene in front of him gripping him now—it was the memory of another moment, another judgment, one that had cut just as deeply.


    The young mechanic wiped the grease from his hands as he stepped into the kitchen, the screen door slamming behind him. The house smelled of pine cleaner and wood smoke—a smell he hadn’t realized he missed until this moment.


    Joel was in his late teens, almost twenty. He coundn’t remember what he was doing before walking in; perhaps just finishing a shift on a rig or at a mechanic''s shop. He comes home to find his father and older brother, both rugged and pragmatic, waiting for him in the living room. There''s tension in the air, and Joel remembers braces himself for a confrontation, assuming they''ve found out about his relationship with Oliver.


    “Joel,” his father’s voice called from the living room. No greeting. No warmth.


    Joel tensed. The last time his dad had used that tone, it was over a broken carburetor he’d tried to fix and failed. He made his way into the living room, and his brother, Ben, sat in the corner, arms crossed, his jaw clenched tight.Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site.


    “What’s going on?” Joel asked, trying to keep the edge out of his voice.


    His dad motioned to the couch. “Sit.”


    Joel didn’t sit. Instead, he leaned against the doorway, arms crossed in a mirror of his brother’s stance. “What is this about?”


    Ben exchanged a glance with their dad. “You know,” Ben said finally, his voice low and brimming with judgment.


    Joel’s heart dropped. The unspoken words between them felt like lead in the room. This was it. They’d found out about him and Oliver.


    “Look,” Joel began, “if this is about me and—”


    His father interrupted, his brow furrowing in confusion. “What the hell are you talking about?”


    Joel faltered. “Nothing,” he said quickly.


    “No,” Ben said, standing abruptly. “This is about you not stepping up. Not doing what needs to be done for this family, for this land. You’re just going to let them take it?”


    Joel blinked, caught off guard. “Let who take what?”


    “The Americans,” his dad said, the disgust in his voice cutting through Joel. “They’re at Whitehorse, Joel. Pushing their lines, taking what’s ours. And you’re out here, tinkering with machines and acting like it doesn’t matter.”


    Joel stared at them both, disbelief washing over him. “You think I should go fight in some war? That’s what this is about?”


    “You’re damn right,” Ben snapped. “It’s our home, our legacy. And you’re too much of a coward to stand up for it.”


    Joel’s throat tightened. “It’s not cowardice. It’s practicality. Do you really think they care about one more mechanic joining up? What difference does it make?”


    “It makes every difference,” his father said, his voice quiet but firm. “This land doesn’t survive on people standing back and watching. It survives because people like us fight for it. Because people like us don’t give up when things get hard.”


    Joel shook his head, anger bubbling under his skin. “You don’t get to call me a coward because I won’t die for your ideals. Maybe I want something different for myself. Did you ever think of that?”


    Ben scoffed. “Yeah, like running away to the rigs? Or staying curled up in bed with your boy-toy. Real brave, Joel.”


    Joel felt the words stick in his throat. This wasn’t about his choices, his future, or even his values. It was about theirs—and how he didn’t fit into their mold.


    Ben leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees. His knuckles were white from how tightly his fists were clenched. "I signed up, Joel. I leave next week."


    Joel’s stomach dropped. "You what?"


    "You heard me." Ben’s tone was sharp, almost daring Joel to challenge him. "I’m going up to Whitehorse to push those bastards back where they came from."


    Joel shook his head, disbelief painted across his face. "You’re serious? You’re actually going to fight them?"


    "Damn right, I am," Ben shot back. "Somebody has to. You think they’re just going to stop if we ask nicely? You think they’ll leave on their own? They’re carving up everything north of the border like it’s theirs to take, Joel. And if we don’t stop them now, they’ll keep coming. They’ll be at Fort Saint John next."


    "Ben," Joel said, exasperation slipping into his voice, "do you hear yourself? This isn’t some bar brawl you can win with your fists. This is war. People are going to die."


    "I know that," Ben said, his voice dropping into something quieter, colder. "I’m not stupid. I know what I signed up for. But I’d rather die fighting for something that matters than sit back and do nothing."


    Joel frowned, his arms crossing over his chest. "And you think I should join you? Just drop everything and go running into some doomed fight?"


    Ben scoffed, leaning back in his chair. "It’s not a doomed fight. It’s survival. It’s standing up for our land, our people. But you don’t get it, do you?"


    Joel’s jaw tightened. "What’s that supposed to mean?"


    Ben gestured toward him with a hand, his expression a mix of frustration and pity. "You’re so caught up in your little world—fixing engines, hiding out on the rigs— Or should I say fucking Oliver. We know about. Fuck, everyone who ever sees you two together knows about, we don’t give a shit. You are so caught up in your little drama that you don’t see the bigger picture. This is bigger than you, Joel. Bigger than all of us. But you don’t want to get your hands dirty. You’d rather let other people bleed for you."


    Joel’s face flushed with anger. "That’s not fair, Ben."


    "Isn’t it?" Ben snapped. "You’ve got the skills to help, Joel. Mechanics like you? We need them. The equipment up there breaks down every damn day. You could save lives just by keeping things running. But no, you’d rather sit here and pretend this isn’t happening."


    Joel’s voice rose in frustration. "I’m not pretending it’s not happening! I just don’t think throwing myself into a war solves anything. You think you’re a hero because you’re willing to die? What about the people you’ll leave behind? What about Dad? What about Mom’s grave? Or—" Joel stopped himself before saying Oliver’s name.


    Ben’s eyes narrowed. "We all leave people behind, Joel. That’s the price of standing for something. I’d rather die with a purpose than live as a coward. Better to fight for what is left of Canada, then work for that Company."


    The word coward stung, and Joel’s hands balled into fists. "You don’t get to call me that. Just because I don’t want to fight your war doesn’t make me weak."


    Ben stood, his chair scraping loudly against the floor. He towered over Joel, his face hard. "No, Joel, it makes you selfish. You think this is just about me? Or you? This is about everyone who comes after us. The people who will live or die because of what we do now. But go ahead—stay here, keep tinkering with machines. Just don’t come crying to me when everything we love is gone."


    Joel’s fists clenched, his knuckles whitening as he finally tore his eyes from the boy and fixed them on Gideon. “You want me to join you,” he said, his voice low but steady, a simmering edge beneath the calm. “If I join you, I get to kill those lizards. I get to free those people. All of them.”


    Gideon’s smile faltered, his easy confidence cracking for the first time. His eyes narrowed slightly, annoyance flashing in their depths. For a moment, he studied Joel, as if reevaluating the man standing before him.


    “Interesting terms,” Gideon said at last, his voice measured. The sharpness had dulled, but his tone carried a subtle weight of authority. “You’re bargaining with me now? Bold. But tell me, Joel, are you strong enough to follow through? To see it through to the end?”


    Joel’s answer came without hesitation, his voice like steel. “Watch me.”