EMBERS (Marcus Acacius)

III | Chains That Bind Them

I kept my head down and worked hard over the next few days, dodging an incessant Tiberius and trying to discretely eavesdrop on Senator Aemillius' conversations with his guards as I tended to his healing wounds.

The senator never said much, but I had gathered that my initial assumptions about him had not been entirely correct. While Aemillius enjoyed his wealth and status, he agreed with me in the sense that something needed to change. Rome was crumbling into chaos and drastic action needed to be taken.

Why did it seem that everyone wanted me in their wings. Tiberius, Acacius... They had—on seperate occasions—both tried to convince me that I could be doing more. Why? What exactly could I do that they could not?

"Adriana?" I let out a defeated sigh. It was Tiberius. I guess I could only avoid him for so long. I turned away from my sleeping patient, to look at the man in the doorway. He waved quickly. "May I have a word?"

I followed him out into the dark corridor, leaning my back against the cold stone wall. "I'm busy, Tiberius. You know how it is."

"Yes, I do," Tiberius responded, leaning against the opposite wall, so soldiers and nurses alike could pass between us. "But the real question is: what are you going to do about it, Adriana? How many more men will you bandage up only for them to go back into the arena? How many more will die before you realise you're not changing anything?"

"I'm not just going to drop everything and join your rebellion," I hissed through gritted teeth. "They need me. I can't just abandon them." I could feel the defensiveness rising in my throat. "I can't fight the whole empire, Tiberius. I'm just one person..."

Leaning in slightly, his eyes narrowed with intensity, as if trying to peer into my very soul. His voice dropped lower. "That's the thing, Adriana. You think you're just one person, but you're not. You're a healer—yes—but you also have influence." I rolled my eyes. I had heard this a thousand times from this very man. Yet, however many times he insisted, I couldn't bring myself to believe him. "These men—the gladiators—you think they don't notice you? You think they don't see your compassion?" His voice grew stronger as he continued. "You think you're helping them by patching them up, but you're not. You're feeding the machine. You're allowing it to continue. You've seen the eyes of those men; they're breaking, and all you do is offer them temporary relief, while they're forced back into the fight."

My eyes stung at his words. All this time, I had believed I was helping the gladiators—even if only a little—but all I was really doing was aiding the vicious cycle of violence and death, that I so fiercely opposed.

"What do you want me to do, Tiberius? I'm not a soldier. I can't change the entire system."

Tiberius' voice took on an almost urgent quality. "No, you can't change it all at once. But you can be part of something bigger than yourself." He reached forwards and gripped my shoulders for emphasis. "The rebellion is growing, Adriana. The gladiators are starting to see that they're not just tools of the empire. They have the power to fight back. And we need people like you—people who care, who can lead, who can inspire them. You don't have to pick up a sword. You can help in other ways." He paused, studying my face closely, letting the weight of his words sink in. "That's why I'm asking you. I'm not asking you to abandon your healing, but I am asking you to see beyond the wounds, to see the chains that bind them. To see the chains that bind you."

The breath caught in my throat at his words. I looked down at my hands, the weight of the decision pressing down on me. I could feel the tension in the air, like a storm about to break. He was right, but the fear that settled in my stomach was almost enough to make me reject his proposal. "I've never been part of a rebellion, Tiberius," I said in a nervous voice. "I'm not a fighter anymore. What if I can't handle it? What if I lose everything?"