the freedom coalition that have managed to make it out of the Parish.
Cage and Arrah received my transmissions and warned Jeptha, who had just enough time to contact the other resistance cells with warnings and evacuation orders. By the time the first wave of Squawker attacks hit, most of the rebel strongholds were only partially occupied. Still, many were trapped or killed when the squads of Imposers and soldiers sealed the city in the aftermath of Cassius’s coup d’état against Talon and those still loyal to her regime. The clean-up by Cassius’s forces was swift and violent—and fortunately provided enough of a diversion for the rebel survivors to slip from the city limits. Unfortunately, Tristin hasn’t been seen since. Even though she’s probably dead, I find myself uttering a silent prayer to whatever god she believed in to watch over her.
I stare out from the open cockpit of the transport I’m riding in as the first rays of light penetrate that cloak of blackness. With the encroaching dawn, Cassius’s forces will come calling, ready to decimate what’s left of the resistance. Maybe he has his hands full dealing with Sanctum and that’ll buy us some time. In any event, we need to establish a new base of operations soon.
“How’re you feeling?” Arrah asks.
I turn toward her, my fingers tracing the outline of the bandages still plastered to my side. The side where—
I wince. “Still breathing.”
Her eyes narrow, as if she can’t tell whether I’m grateful or bitter.
I’m not so sure which, either.
“Sorry if that patchwork job wasn’t exactly up to standard,” she says. “It’ll probably leave a scar.”
“Yeah. I’m sure it will.”
She hasn’t asked how exactly I got wounded, and I haven’t volunteered to fill in the blanks. Maybe someday we’ll have that conversation. But I can’t. Not now.
The cavalcade begins to wind down into a canyon. The crater’s huge, the walls pockmarked with natural niches that have been reinforced by steel beams and girders. I smile. The resistance coalition has been busy over the years, constructing this ersatz base little by little out of supplies and equipment pilfered from the Establishment’s carefully recorded inventory.
As we descend, I see that hundreds—no, thousands—have already assembled, bustling around, constructing shelters, soldering equipment, distributing meager supplies of food and clothing.
Amidst the throng, I spot a group of familiar black uniforms and gleaming helmets and my hand reflexively goes to the weapon strapped to my opposite side. But the moment I see the face of their leader, I relax.
It’s Valerian.
The closer I get to her, the more I can see that recent events have already started to take their toll. Her face is drawn, mired in cuts and bruises, and her usually pristine uniform is wrinkled and torn.
My transport comes to a stop. I hop off and limp toward her.
She manages a smile. “Spark. That uniform you’re wearing isn’t exactly up to code, Recruit.”
I nod. “Neither is yours, Sir.”
“I guess we’re all going to need new uniforms now.” She glances at her companions. Imposers who, like her, have chosen a side.
“Tim Fremont,” she whispers.
“Who—?”
“He was a young man, a Worm peddling fake IDs, who my partner and I caught on the very day you were recruited. I was faced with the choice of killing him outright or taking him into custody and letting him be tortured until he begged for death. I chose the former.”
Of course. The poor guy in the alley on the day Digory and my fates became intertwined.
She rubs her weary eyes. “Tim’s screams haven’t left me. But it was a decision I made for the greater good, one of many. Which is why I’ve left now.”
There’s always a choice.
And I’ve made mine.
We grip hands and stare at each other for a moment, until she finally breaks away. “I’ve got to get back to the Parish before Thorn misses me. I can be much more effective working on the inside. Besides, loading supplies is grunt work for Fifth Tiers.” She winks at me.
Then she and her crew are gone, fading into the sea of hustling bodies.
“You should probably get some rest, mate,” Cage says. The place where his hand once was has been bandaged meticulously.
I shake my head. “Too much to do. Besides, I need to stay busy.” I look away. A particle of dust must have gotten in my eye because it burns, and I try to rub it away. “I’m sure Tristin’s okay, Cage.”
“Thank you.” He grips my arm. “Lucian. I’m not sure what happened to you after Infiernos. But you have to believe, you’re not alone now.”
I can only nod and slip away from his grasp. Cage is a great man. A natural leader. Maybe someday, when this bloody war is over, he’ll meet someone who can appreciate him. That’s something I can never be. Not to him. Not to anyone else ever again.
Moving away from him, I lose myself in the crowd and spend the rest of the day working nonstop.
At last, the weary sky gives way to dusk. Without fully thinking about what I’m doing, I grab a flickering torch and move onto the main platform. I raise the flame high over my head, gritting my teeth as I welcome the pain that reminds me I’m still alive—and still have a purpose.
Gradually the sounds fade as people begin to notice me. Finally, a hush falls through the crowd.
“People of the Parish,” I say. My voice echoes across the canyon with a power I’ve never felt until now. “We have all felt what it’s like to live under the suffocating oppression and tyranny of the Establishment. We’ve all suffered and lost people that we love.” The word catches in my throat for a second. “But I promise you, none of what we’ve experienced shall be in vain. We will fight with every last drop of blood until those responsible cower and drop to their knees. Freedom and dignity are not scraps to be doled out by cruel masters. They belong to every man, woman, and child. They are our right. And we won’t stop until they belong to us!”
The canyon comes alive with roars and applause, a noise that rivals the most powerful thunderstorm. My eyes wander the crowed and I see their faces: Arrah, Drusilla, Cage, Dahlia, Corin, and Jeptha—people who are still alive. People who need me.
Like I need them.
But it’s the faces that aren’t there that consume me.
As the rumbling ovation and chants continue, I stare into the flame I hold high. Perhaps it’s a trick of the light, but I can almost swear I see faces staring back at me through the flickering glow.
A child and a young man.
The fire inside me blazes, rivaling my torch.
“I will win this war for you,” I whisper.
Somewhere out there, Digory is waiting for me.
And Cole. No matter what Cassius said or what they made Cole do, no matter if Cassius was lying or telling the truth about the Sowing Protocol, Cole will always be my brother.
Just like I’ll always be who I am. Who I’ve always been.
Who I’ve become.
Lucian Spark.
The Torch Keeper.
THE END
Acknowledgments
As is often the case, sequels are an extension of the commitment, dedication, and encouragement of all that came before. The Sowing is no exception. There are so many wonderful people that have become part of this growing family of supporters of the Torch Keeper series, ever since The Culling was released, and I really appreciate all that they have contributed on this magical journey.
Cathy Castelli, I am forever indebted to you for taking the time to record my first book signing event EVER when The Culling was first released. You captured a wonderful memory of my dreams coming true that I will treasure for years to come! Also, it was really awesome of you to promote the book in school libraries.
No mention of schools would be complete wit
hout a nod to fellow author, Jennifer Lavoie, a teacher who has championed The Culling and introduced it to her students, while whetting their appetites for The Sowing in fiendishly clever ways. You tease!
Much thanks to Micah Dawson and the members of the Chaos Reads forums for embracing the Torch Keeper series, spreading the word of its existence, and starting its very first fan forums. I can’t tell you how amazing it felt the first time I saw a fan site featuring discussions of stories and characters of my own creation, and realizing I had actual fans!
And speaking of fans, I’d like to give a special shout-out to Chloe Hill, Marie White, Mel Longchamps, and Michele Cantwell, who befriended Lucian, Digory, and the rest of The Culling gang when no one had a clue who they were, and who have continually raved about the Torch Keeper series so that other readers might discover it and enter the dark worlds in my head. Hope this book settles the “Digory” questions. You guys ROCK!
My warmest thanks go out to my friends Adam Magee and his partner, Chad Michaels, for their encouragement and countless tweets, even before The Culling was ever released. ChAdam, Shantay, you STAY!
I also appreciate Frank Garcia and his partner Pedro Aguas including me in a full-page color spread in What’s Happening Magazine. Thanks guys! Next time, maybe I can have a centerfold?
Dawn Sorokin-Tschupp, you did a great job making my mug look presentable for my author photo. You must use a wand instead of a camera to work that kind of magic!
Thanks to Luis Contreras for featuring me in my very first YouTube videos, and helping to promote The Culling and the Torch Keeper series to the vast world of social media.
Extra shiny props to Keri Mcdaniel, whose selfless efforts are responsible for beaucoup sales of The Culling. Girl, I can’t tell you how much all you’ve done means to me and I hope to have you head up my marketing team some day!
And, as always, to my wonderful partner, Jeffrey Cadorette, who helps keep me grounded when things seem overwhelming. It’s always amazing what a little TLC can do.
About the Author
Steven dos Santos was born in New York City and moved to Florida at the tender age of five. He wrote his first book, The Enchanted Prince, when he was in second grade.
Steven has a BS in Communications but spent most of his career in law, even going to law school before realizing he wanted to be a writer. The Sowing is his second novel with Flux.
Visit the author at www.stevendossantos.com.
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