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

**Chapter 5: The Break in the Chain** **The Climb – The Shaft of the Mint** The tunnel smelled of old iron and mold. It was narrow—barely wide enough for one person—and climbed upward like a dry well. Rusted rungs, pitted and fragile, led toward a trapdoor forty feet above. They climbed in silence. Tullia went first, testing each rung with her weight. Cassian followed, carrying Silvanus across his back like a child. The old man’s breath was shallow, fading. “Don’t die on me,” Cassian muttered. “I’m too stubborn,” Silvanus rasped. Lycia brought up the rear. Her torch sputtered, sending flickers across the walls like ghosts. “Halfway,” Tullia called. They heard shouts echoing below. Then flames. The Praetorians had found the breach. --- **Above – The Mint Room** Junius pried open the trapdoor with a crowbar looted from a collapsed tool chamber. Light poured in—moonlight filtered through broken stained glass. The old imperial mint was gutted, its machinery rusted to ruin. Piles of discarded copper sheeting and coin molds littered the floor. A broken statue of Fortuna lay on her side, face cracked. Tullia climbed through, dragging Cassian and Silvanus behind her. Lycia emerged last, bleeding from a cut above her eye. “We made it,” she said. “Not yet,” Cassian answered. “They’ll be waiting at the Forum gates.” Junius stepped toward the statue. “There’s another way.” --- **Junius – The Hidden Passage** He lifted Fortuna’s face. Beneath it, a square iron hatch. “My master—before he died—he used this to move shipments without taxes. It leads to a merchant’s cellar near the Temple of Saturn.” Cassian stared at him. “How many masters did you run from?” “Enough to know they all thought they owned me.” Junius dropped through the hatch. They followed. --- **Volcatius – Orders of Blood** The Praetorian captain reported again, breathless. “They escaped the vault. Through the mint. We lost the trail near the western cisterns.” Volcatius stood over a burning map of Rome, calm. “We let them run. One hour. Then we close the gates. Issue the decree. Burn the lower quarters. Blame them for the fire. The people need a villain.” The captain hesitated. “And the boy? Junius? You said—” Volcatius held up a hand. “He’ll return to us.” “How can you be sure?” Volcatius smiled, cold and wide. “Because I raised him better than that.” --- **The Merchant Cellar – The Final Pause** They emerged into damp air and wine casks. The cellar reeked of vinegar and rot. But it was freedom. For now. Tullia barred the hatch behind them. Cassian stood, helping Silvanus onto a makeshift stool. Lycia rubbed grime from her face. “We disappear. For a time. Split. Regroup outside the city.” “No,” Cassian said. “We don’t run.” Sergius bristled. “You’ve seen the street. They’re ready. But they need you alive.” “I *am* alive,” Cassian said. “For the first time. I won’t waste it hiding in some villa outside Capua.” He turned to the others. “We rise now. Or never.” --- **A Decision of Fire** Cassian stepped into the open, back into the street. Night wrapped the city in silver and soot. In the distance, bells rang—warning tones. The gates were closing. Rome was locking itself in. Silvanus limped beside him, leaning on a bent staff. “You know what this means,” he said. Cassian nodded. “We die.” “Or?” “Or we show them we’re real.” From behind them, a dozen shadows joined—Lycia, Sergius, Tullia, and those who had waited. Those who had suffered. Those who had lit fires but never seen the spark take shape. Cassian looked at them. “You’re free,” he said. “Not because Rome says it. Because *you* do.” He turned toward the Forum. “I’m going to the Rostra.” Tullia blinked. “The speaking platform?” “Someone has to speak.” Here is **Section 4 of 5** of your final chapter,**Chapter 5: The Break in the Chain** from*NOW I AM RIGHT HERE, AND IT'S TIME, 'CAUSE THIS IS REAL, THIS IS REAL AND IT'S ALL MINE.* **The Forum Romanum – Just Before Dawn** The Rostra had once been a place of law and triumph. Now, it was guarded by ten Praetorians in full armor, eyes red from smoke and lack of sleep. Behind them, the marble square flickered with torchlight. Hundreds had gathered—some drawn by rumors, others by instinct. Something was happening. Something different. In the shadows beyond the temple colonnades, Cassian watched the soldiers. Lycia at his side. Sergius checked the blade hidden beneath his cloak. Tullia scanned the rooftops. “Too many guards,” she whispered. Cassian shook his head. “Not enough to stop truth.” --- **Junius – Return to the Rostra** He had slipped away in the cellar. No one saw. Now he stood behind the guards in civilian garb, head down, torch in hand. He remembered this place as a child. Volcatius had brought him here, placed him on the very platform Cassian now aimed for. > “One day, this will be yours,” Volcatius had said. And maybe it would have been. If not for the lies. If not for the chains beneath the villa, and the blood spilled behind golden doors. Junius stepped forward. --- **Cassian – The Ascent** He walked into the square without a weapon. Without armor. Without a mask. Only his name. A murmur swept the crowd as he emerged. Some gasped. Some reached for stones. Others, for hope. “Cassian?” “That’s him—” “He’s supposed to be dead!” The Praetorians formed a wall. One raised a spear. Cassian didn’t slow. Lycia walked beside him. Then Tullia. Then Sergius. Together, they walked into the teeth of Rome. --- **A Choice of Power – Junius** The torch burned in Junius’s hand. He stepped up behind the lead Praetorian. Raised it high. And swung. The butt struck the man’s helmet. He fell with a grunt, crumpling to the stones. Panic. The crowd surged. Lycia leapt forward, blade drawn. Cassian shoved through the gap. He climbed the Rostra. --- **The Speech** The crowd pressed in. Guards hesitated, caught between orders and fear. Above them, smoke curled from the tenement fires. Rome teetered. Cassian raised his arms. He didn’t shout. He **spoke**—clear, steady, real. > “You know me. You’ve heard my name in alleys, on the lips of dying men, and in the lies your masters feed you.” > “They say I’m a slave. A killer. A mistake.” > “But I’m not.” He raised his arms higher, revealing his branded wrist. > “I was born with this.” > “But I won’t die with it.” The crowd stilled. > “I don’t ask for freedom. I don’t plead for mercy. I claim what I already own—**myself**.” > “And if Rome must fall so I can rise—**let it burn.**” A silence so sharp it could cut marble. Then— A cheer. --- **The Forum Breaks** The guards tried to hold. But the dam burst. Citizens swarmed. Some to protect, others to tear down. The bronze statue of Emperor Gallienus was pulled from its base. Flames ignited along the Senate steps. And from every quarter—Subura, Aventine, Esquiline—shadows moved. Freedmen. Outlaws. Laborers. Slaves. The revolution wasn’t a whisper now. It was a roar. --- **Volcatius – The Final Order** He watched from the Palatine balcony. Smoke curled around him. “Seal the city,” he said. The scribe hesitated. “Sir, the people—” “Let them die,” Volcatius said. “If the body is sick, you cut off the limb.” He turned to the flames with no expression. “Rome will survive.” --- **Silvanus – In the Crowd** He stood far from the Rostra, leaning on his staff. He watched Cassian’s face, proud and furious and whole. He watched the people surge. And he whispered, only to himself: > “Now you’re real.”

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