NOW I AM RIGHT HERE, AND IT’S TIME, ‘CAUSE THIS IS REAL, THIS IS REAL AND IT’S ALL MINE*

**Chapter 4: The Shape of Fire*(continued) **Dawn cracked open like a curse.** Rome stirred beneath a sky the color of rust, and the stench of smoke clung to the wind like a prophecy. In the belly of the Subura, fires burned through the night—some sparked by accident, others by intent. What began as whispers now walked as fire. Cassian stood at the northern window of Decimus’s villa, arms folded across his chest, watching a thin trail of black smoke wind upward into the early light. “I remember the first fire I saw,” he said aloud. “I was five. They burned the cart of a Syrian merchant who wouldn’t pay the bribe. I thought the world was ending.” Junius shifted in the shadows behind him. “And now?” “Now I know the world only ends when men forget it can.” --- **Elsewhere in the City – Lycia Moves** Lycia walked swiftly through the lower Forum, draped in the tattered robes of a fishmonger’s widow. She passed a pair of Praetorians without so much as a glance, her face smudged, her hands crusted in salt. She ducked into a wine cellar two levels below the street and emerged on the far side of a butcher’s stall. There, beneath a slaughtered pig’s swinging carcass, stood a man in legion boots and a slave’s tunic. “Report,” she said. “He’s alive,” the man said. “Silvanus. They’ve moved him to the Palatine Vaults. No records. No trial date.” Lycia’s eyes narrowed. “Torture?” “Almost certain.” “Has he broken?” “Not yet.” She nodded, handed him a scrap of parchment sealed with wax, and disappeared into the smoke. --- **In the Senate – Masks Begin to Crack** Decimus sat in a quiet side chamber as Volcatius addressed a half-circle of old men who fancied themselves gods. The air was heavy with perfume and sweat. Tension like a drawn bowstring. “We must act,” Volcatius said, his voice calm, clipped. “Cassian has gone from myth to menace. There is talk—*talk*, mind you—of open revolt in the Aventine and Testaccio. The baker’s guilds are refusing shipments. Half the dock slaves have vanished.” An older senator, Furius Plautus, coughed. “You mean they’ve joined him.” Volcatius smiled without warmth. “I mean they’ve stopped fearing *us*.” A pause. Then Decimus spoke. “If we arrest him, we make him a martyr.” “He’s already that,” Volcatius said. “The difference is whether he *lives* to become something worse.” --- **Cassian – That Night in the Villa** A letter arrived by hawk, bound in black leather, bearing no name. Cassian read it in silence. Then he burned it. Sergius approached. “What did it say?” Cassian didn’t answer. Instead, he stepped to the map sprawled across the marble table—the one with red and black pins marking grain supplies, known sympathizers, bribes paid, lives bought. He removed three red pins. “Prepare to evacuate the villa.” Sergius blinked. “To where?” “Everywhere.” “You’re scattering the network?” “No,” Cassian said. “I’m planting it.” --- **Junius – Late Night** The boy crept through the quiet study after Cassian had gone to his chamber. He pulled back the scroll from earlier—the one Cassian had burned halfway. He read the name again. **Silvanus.** He read the other names—some scratched through, some still visible. One of them was his mother’s. He staggered back, heart hammering. What did this mean? He slipped the scroll into his tunic and vanished into the night. --- **Volcatius’s Plan – In Motion** The order was written with a single word: > *“Deliverance.”* The guards understood what it meant. At midnight, a detachment of black-cloaked Praetorians moved toward Decimus’s villa under cover of darkness, armed not with torches but with chains. The gods did not speak. The stars did not blink. The sky watched in silence as history turned once again. Here is **Section 5 of 5** of **Chapter 4: The Shape of Fire**, the conclusion of this chapter, where betrayal blooms fully, and Cassian’s fragile revolution is put to the test. **Dawn came like a warning.** Rome’s sky was blood-orange, not from beauty but from soot. Somewhere in the Subura, a tenement had caught fire. Smoke painted the city’s eastern edge, curling upward like a serpent. Cassian stood at the villa’s highest balcony, watching it rise. “It’s begun,” he murmured. Tullia stepped beside him. “You think this is about you?” “I think I lit a match in a forest already burning.” “You’re not the only one playing with fire.” Cassian turned to her. “What have you heard?” She hesitated. “There’s talk. A movement in the Senate. Whispers of a name whispered in fear—yours. They think you’ve gone too far.” “I haven’t gone far enough.” She stepped away from him then. “You should be careful, Cassian.” He frowned. “Of what?” “Of becoming what you hate.” --- **Below the villa, in the catacombs** Sergius met with Lycia in the tombs beneath the house. There were no bodies—only maps and sealed jars, and a single torch burning blue with salt. “I found him,” Sergius whispered. Lycia tensed. “Where?” “They moved him to the Old Prison beneath the Palatine. No official records. Only high enemies go there.” “Cassian must be told.” Sergius touched her arm. “That’s not all. He was tortured.” She didn’t flinch. “What did he say?” “We don’t know. But someone talked.” Lycia nodded slowly. “Then we have to move now.” “Cassian won’t allow it.” “Cassian doesn’t know what Silvanus means.” --- **Meanwhile – Cassian is summoned by Decimus** The old senator’s messenger came breathless, pale. “He said it’s urgent. The Council meets in secret. They plan to move against you.” Cassian walked quickly through the colonnade, his sandals hitting marble like thunder. In Decimus’s private atrium, he found not one man—but five. Volcatius stood at their center. “You’ve grown careless,” Volcatius said. Cassian didn’t reply. “You moved against us in the shadows. You sowed whispers, pulled strings. Clever. But you forgot one thing.” “And what’s that?” Volcatius smiled thinly. “The Senate doesn’t rule Rome anymore.” He stepped aside, revealing a man in black armor behind him. **A Praetorian.** Cassian felt the shift instantly. The floor seemed to fall away. “You planned this,” he said. Decimus spoke, softly. “No. But I allowed it.” Cassian turned to him. “You—” “You pushed too far,” Decimus said. “I warned you.” “You told me you stood with me.” “I stood with hope. But I will not stand beside destruction.” The Praetorian stepped forward. Volcatius raised a scroll. “By order of the Senate, you are placed under protective arrest.” “Protective?” Cassian laughed. “For whom?” “For the city.” --- **Back at the Villa – The Revolt Begins** Lycia saw it first. The guards posted at the gate had changed uniforms. Tullia rushed to Cassian’s study. Empty. “He’s gone,” she whispered. Then: “He’s been taken.” Junius was already running. In the courtyard, Sergius drew a blade from beneath the stone bench and handed it to Lycia. “Plan stays the same,” he said. “We extract Silvanus.” “No,” Lycia said. “We change the plan.” “Why?” “Because Cassian is now the message.” --- **At the Palatine Prison – Hours Later** Cassian knelt in the dark, wrists chained to the floor. They had not beaten him. They didn’t need to. The room was cold. No light. No sound. Then the door opened. Volcatius entered, alone. “No speech?” Cassian asked. “No need. You’re already forgotten.” Cassian smiled faintly. “I’m just beginning.” Volcatius stepped closer. “You’ll die here, Cassian. And in two generations, no one will remember your name. But Rome will survive.” Cassian looked up at him. “Rome is already dead. I’m just the man who lit the torch.” Volcatius paused. For the first time, Cassian saw it—**doubt**. Then the door slammed shut. --- **Meanwhile – Elsewhere in Rome** A wall in the Forum, long untouched, now bore new graffiti. In red: > “NOW I AM RIGHT HERE, AND IT’S TIME — ’CAUSE THIS IS REAL, THIS IS REAL AND IT’S ALL MINE.” Below it: the mark of the broken chain. The city stirred. And somewhere in the shadows, the fire smiled.

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