The wind carried ash and petals across the clearing—
remnants of battle, caught in the breath of fate.
Elder Lao stood unmoving, robes fluttering gently, expression unreadable.
But his voice when it came was colder than stone.
"At the only cost we've ever known."
That sentence hung like a guillotine over everyone present.
No one moved. No one dared breathe.
Then—the rebels rose.
Bloodied. Shaking. But unyielding.
Raiquen, his hair wild, fists aflame, breathing hard through broken ribs.
Braggen, eyes burning beneath bark-split skin, his massive hand clenched so tightly it
trembled.
Sil, one eye swollen shut, glyphs flickering around his arms like dying stars refusing to fade.
Kirell, her mouth bloodied, defiance etched into the bruises on her face.
Therys, robes in tatters
Raiquen's voice cracked the silence.
"Eliryn!"
She didn't flinch. Not even a blink.
But her knuckles whitened around the shaft of her scythe.
