Toren Veyne stood near the entrance of the Verdis gold mine, wiping sweat from his face. The air was thick with dust and the smell of iron, and the mine's lanterns gave off just enough light to see the rough walls. His sister, Kaelith Veyne, held a flask of pitch, her expression focused. Joren Thal, a former farmer, carried a pickaxe, and Lysa Vorn, a healer, checked her satchel of bandages and herbs. They were miners and villagers, not fighters, but tonight they were here to hit back at Hispania.
Hispania had controlled Verdis for ten years, taking its gold, iron, and crops to fuel their navy. Heavy taxes left families struggling, and the island's fertile lands were stripped to feed Hispania's soldiers. Kaelith had been planning resistance for months, meeting in secret with fishers, smiths, and anyone willing to listen. She'd convinced Toren, Joren, and a dozen others to sabotage a gold shipment tonight. It was a small step, but it would show Hispania that Verdis wasn't beaten.
"We go now," Kaelith said, keeping her voice low. "The guards change at midnight. Joren, take six people and block the east tunnel with rocks. Lysa, stay with me and Toren—be ready to treat anyone hurt. We burn the carts, not the mine. This gold stays with Verdis."
Joren nodded. He'd lost his farm to Hispania's taxes and didn't talk much. "Dario Mendez is patrolling tonight," he said. "He's sharp."
"We'll deal with it," Kaelith said, looking at Toren. He gave a quick nod, though his stomach twisted. He wasn't bold like Kaelith, who always seemed sure of herself. He was just a miner, but he was sick of seeing his home crushed.
Lysa shifted her satchel. "If they catch us, it's the gallows or the galleys. I've seen what they do to people who fight back."
"Then we don't get caught," Kaelith said. Toren glanced at the other miners—ordinary people, tired and fed up. They knew the mine's tunnels better than any guard, which was their edge.
The plan was to burn the carts loaded with gold ore, stop Hispania's shipment, and send a message. Kaelith had set it up, working with a smuggler named Mira Kade, who'd gotten them the pitch. Taryn Solis, a noble who'd lost her title, was off trying to find allies on the mainland—Gallia or Hellas, maybe. Toren didn't trust mainlanders, but Kaelith thought they needed help to win.
Boots echoed in the distance—guards changing shifts. Kaelith gave a hand signal, and the group split up. Joren took six miners to the east tunnel to pile rocks and slow the guards. Toren, Kaelith, and Lysa headed for the cart chamber, where wagons were stacked with gold ore. Barrels of pitch from Mira sat nearby, ready for use.
Kaelith poured pitch over the carts, the sharp smell cutting through the dusty air. Toren lit a torch and passed it to her. She tossed it onto the carts, and flames spread fast, the wood crackling and the gold glinting in the firelight. Shouts came from the tunnels—guards had spotted the fire. "Rebels!" one yelled, followed by Dario Mendez's voice, loud and angry. "Find them! Kill them!"
"Move!" Kaelith said, pulling Toren toward a side tunnel. Lysa followed, gripping her satchel. The plan was for Joren's group to draw the guards west, maybe collapsing a tunnel to block them. Toren's group needed to reach a hidden exit to the cliffs. Smoke filled the air, stinging Toren's eyes as they ran through the narrow tunnel, rocks scraping their arms.
They were halfway to the exit when a man stepped out—Marco Silv, a Hispania spy. Toren knew him from their village; he'd turned traitor for Hispania's coin. Marco held a dagger, his face smug. "You're not getting out," he said.
Kaelith faced him. "Marco, you're from Verdis. Why side with them?"
"They're stronger," he said, stepping closer. "You're throwing your lives away."
Toren reached for a rock, his heart racing. Before he could move, Marco lunged, his dagger sinking into Kaelith's chest. She gasped, clutching the wound, blood soaking her shirt. Lysa cried out, dropping her satchel. Toren swung the rock, hitting Marco's head hard. The spy fell, unconscious.
Toren dropped to his knees beside Kaelith. "Hold on," he said, pressing his hands to the wound. Blood seeped through his fingers. Kaelith grabbed his arm, her voice weak. "Toren… keep it going. Don't let them win."
"Kaelith, no," he said, but her grip slackened, her eyes closing. She was gone. Lysa pulled at him, tears on her face. "Toren, we have to go. She'd want us to finish this."
Toren's hands shook, but he stood, nodding. They left Marco tied with Lysa's belt and ran through the tunnel. It got tighter, rocks catching their clothes. Guards shouted behind them, closer now. The air grew cooler as they reached a small chamber, starlight visible through a crack ahead—the cliff exit.
They squeezed through, stepping onto the cliffs above the sea. Waves crashed below, and the mine glowed in the distance, smoke rising. The fire had done its job—Hispania's gold was burning. Joren's group would escape west if they could. Toren's chest hurt, not from running but from losing Kaelith. She'd been the one with the plan, the one who believed Verdis could fight.
"We did it," Lysa said, catching her breath. "Kaelith's plan worked."
"Yeah," Toren said, his voice rough. He looked at the fire, anger building. Kaelith was gone, but she'd started this, and he'd have to keep it going. He wasn't a leader, just a miner, but he couldn't let her death be for nothing. Hispania would come after them hard now, and there were stories of worse—foreign nations like Varkand or Myrathis, with magic no one here understood, watching from across the sea.
"What do we do now?" Lysa asked, clutching her satchel.
"We fight," Toren said. "For Kaelith. For Verdis."
They moved into the shadows, heading to the village to meet the others. Kaelith's death had lit the rebellion, and Toren, whether he wanted it or not, was part of it now. He'd tell the others what happened, plan the next move, and keep Hispania from breaking them. The mine fire was just the start, and Verdis had more to say.