The rebellion failed within hours.
Dozens were killed. Many more were captured and chained to posts as punishment. Arinya was dragged back with the survivors, bruised and silent.
But something in her had shattered beyond repair.
She worked without speaking, without crying, without flinching. Days passed. Weeks. The overseers joked that she must have lost her tongue.
What none of them knew was that she had lost her heart.
Every night she returned secretly to the marsh, kneeling by the unmarked place where she had buried Kelan with her own hands. She laid wildflowers there, whispered prayers she barely remembered, and traced his name in the dirt.
One night she whispered:
I remember you. But I don't know how.
Sometimes she felt something warm in the breeze.
But the warmth always disappeared too quickly, like a goodbye.