The central plaza was filled with people from all three districts. The Council had made attendance mandatory for the Middle District and Lower District residents. They wanted to send a message.
The gallows had been erected in the center of the plaza. Fifty-one nooses. Fifty-one executions, to be carried out simultaneously. The Council wanted to make sure that nobody had time to escape, nobody had time to create a dramatic final moment. Just efficient, brutal justice.
The condemned were brought up, one by one, their shackles removed. They were positioned beneath the nooses. The crowd watched in silence. Many were crying. Some were angry. Some seemed resigned.
Sera was the last to be positioned. As the noose was placed around her neck, she looked out at the crowd. Her gaze swept across all three sections—the Upper District residents in their comfortable seats, the Middle District residents standing in the plaza, the Lower District residents held in a separate section.
"I want to say something," she called out, her voice strong and clear.
"Silence!" one of the guards shouted.
But Hector raised a hand. He was confident enough in his power that he was willing to let her speak. He wanted to demonstrate that even her final words wouldn't matter, that resistance was futile.
"My name is Sera," she began. "My father, Darius, was executed by this Council three years ago. He died believing that change was possible, that the system could be reformed if people were willing to stand against injustice."
She paused, looking directly at Hector. "The Council thought his execution would stop the movement he started. They were wrong. They're always wrong about this. They think fear is stronger than hope. They think the threat of death will prevent people from fighting for what's right. But every martyr they create just makes more martyrs necessary."
She turned to the crowd. "I'm not asking you to forgive me for the deaths that resulted from opening the barrier. I'm asking you to understand that those deaths are a symptom of a broken system. I'm asking you to look at this—all of this—and realize that you deserve better. We all deserve better."
Her voice grew stronger. "I'm going to die today. But the idea doesn't die with me. The understanding that this system is wrong doesn't die. The possibility of change doesn't die. And eventually, when enough people have seen what the Council is willing to do to maintain their power, when enough people have been pushed to the edge of desperation, change will come. Maybe not in my lifetime. But it will come."
"Platform!" Hector shouted, unable to bear anymore.
The guards moved to the lever that controlled the platform beneath the condemned. Sera took a breath and looked one last time across the crowd. Her gaze met Kael's, and in that moment, she smiled—not with happiness, but with a kind of peaceful acceptance.
"I love—" she began to say, but the platform fell.
Kael watched her die. He felt something break inside him. But even as the grief crashed over him, he understood what she'd done. She'd used her final moment to plant seeds of doubt in the crowd. She'd made it clear that this was not justice, but oppression. She'd shown that resistance could be noble, even in the face of death.
Then it was his turn.
As he was positioned beneath the noose, Kael didn't speak. He'd already said what he needed to say. He simply stood there, looking out at the crowd, trying to memorize their faces. Trying to will understanding into their minds.
He thought about his father. He thought about Sera. He thought about all the people who'd died in the Lower District, all the people who'd died in the breach, all the people who would die in the future as long as the system continued.
He thought about the possibility that his death might matter. That it might be the final piece of evidence that convinced people that change was necessary.
The noose was placed around his neck.
He was looking directly at Lydia when the platform fell. He saw her face contort with grief. He saw her turn to the crowd around her. He saw her mouth the words "This is wrong."
As consciousness faded, as his vision darkened at the edges, Kael's last thought was of Sera. Of her certainty. Of her belief that their sacrifice would matter.
And then there was nothing.