The moonlight fell cold on the ruins of an abandoned village on the edge of the Abyssal Wastes. The air was eerily still, except for the rustle of cloaks and the occasional sound of steel being sharpened. Deep within one of the half-collapsed houses, Kael sat across from Erelya, the rogue priestess whose allegiance was now uncertain.
"You're planning something," Kael muttered, narrowing his eyes. "I can see it in the way your fingers twitch when you pray."
Erelya didn't flinch. Instead, she returned the stare calmly, brushing a strand of white-blonde hair behind her ear. "I have no allegiance to the Church anymore. Only to survival. Just like you."
Kael leaned forward, voice low. "Survival is not my goal. You know that."
"Yes," she said quietly. "You want vengeance. And dominion over the Abyss."
Their conversation was cut short when Narek, the exiled general, entered with a heavy scowl. "We've intercepted a courier. He was carrying this."
He threw a scroll onto the broken table. Kael unrolled it, his eyes scanning quickly. It was a declaration—the High Council was sending a Purge Battalion to the lower Wastes.
"They're trying to erase the ruins," Narek growled. "Burn down all memory of what happened there."
"They're afraid," Kael said. "Good. Let them be. But we'll give them a reason to be truly terrified."
He stood, eyes gleaming with a new plan. "We strike the Purge Battalion before they even reach the ruins. Not with brute force... but with precision."
Narek nodded. "You're thinking of the Gloomfang mercenaries?"
"Yes," Kael replied. "They'll listen to coin. And they hate the Church. If we time it right, we can set an ambush in the Mist Ravine."
But Erelya frowned. "The Gloomfangs won't deal with a 'monster of the Abyss.' They still believe you're cursed."
Kael smirked. "Then we send someone else."
A beat passed before all eyes turned toward Yura, the silent assassin who had joined their ranks two chapters ago. She nodded once and vanished into the night without a word.
Two days later, hidden in the veil of the ever-misty ravine, Kael and his group waited. The Gloomfangs were late. Or worse, they had betrayed them.
Then came the signal—three flashes of red light, barely visible through the fog.
"They came," Erelya whispered, surprised.
The ambush unfolded in swift, brutal silence. Arrows whistled. Shadows moved like ghosts. Kael watched from the edge, not interfering—this was a test. Could his growing rebellion act without him?
When the last of the Purge Battalion fell, Yura walked up, bloodied but calm. "They won't report back," she said. "No survivors."
Kael nodded, proud. His rebellion was no longer just an idea—it was alive.
That night, around the fire, Narek voiced what they were all thinking. "This wasn't just a military victory. It was symbolic. The High Council will feel this."
"They'll retaliate," Erelya said.
"They always do," Kael replied. "But let them come. The deeper they come into the Abyss... the closer they are to their end."
He stared into the flames, the visions of his past—his imprisonment, his humiliation, the lies that labeled him a villain—all burning in the same fire.
In silence, they all understood:The rebellion had truly begun.