The battlefield was littered with the bodies of the fallen, both noble and rebel alike. The air was heavy with the scent of blood and burned earth. As the academy's forces tended to the wounded, Lumumba stood in the center of it all, surveying the aftermath of their victory.
It didn't feel like a victory.
The sorcerer's final words still echoed in his mind: "You may have won today... but the Sovereign's plans are already in motion."
The weight of those words gnawed at him, a dark omen of things to come. He looked down at the sorcerer's body, now cold and lifeless at his feet. This mage had been powerful—far more than any ordinary noble soldier—but he had only been a piece of the puzzle. The true danger lay ahead, and Lumumba knew they had only scratched the surface.
Amara, limping slightly from the battle, walked up to him, her face lined with exhaustion. She wiped blood from her sword and sheathed it before speaking. "We need to regroup," she said, her voice steady but soft. "Get the wounded inside, reinforce the walls. Lord Dorian may have retreated, but he's not done. Not yet."
Lumumba nodded, pulling himself out of his dark thoughts. "You're right. This isn't over."
Amara gave him a grim smile. "It never is."
Inside the Academy
The atmosphere inside the academy was somber despite the victory. The students, exhausted from the battle, moved in a daze, tending to the wounded and helping to repair the damage done to the walls. Lumumba and Amara joined Koffi in the main hall, where the senior staff had gathered to discuss their next steps.
Koffi, always the calm presence, leaned over the large map spread across the table. His brow was furrowed in concentration as he assessed the situation. "We've managed to push back Lord Dorian's forces, but it's only a temporary reprieve. The nobles will regroup, and they'll come at us even harder next time."
"And the rebels?" Lumumba asked.
Mamadou, lounging in the corner of the room, smirked. "They're fine. They know how to take a hit. In fact, some of them are already talking about pushing back—taking the fight to the nobles before they have a chance to recover."
Koffi shook his head. "That's a dangerous move. We don't know enough about Lord Dorian's full strength. And we still haven't uncovered the full extent of the Sovereign's plan."
At the mention of the Sovereign, the room grew quiet. Everyone in the academy knew the name by now, but few understood the true threat it posed. Lumumba could see the fear in their eyes, the uncertainty. They had won a battle, but the war was far from over.
"We need answers," Lumumba said finally, his voice cutting through the silence. "The sorcerer mentioned the Sovereign's plan—whatever that means. If we don't figure out what he's up to, we're just fighting blind."
Koffi nodded. "I agree. We need more information. The Sovereign is the one pulling the strings behind all of this. If we don't stop him, it won't matter how many battles we win. He'll keep coming."
"So what's the plan?" Mamadou asked, his eyes gleaming with excitement. "Do we infiltrate one of the noble houses? Kidnap a few of their leaders and make them talk? I'm all for a bit of creative persuasion."
Amara rolled her eyes. "Or we could try not to escalate things even more. We're already stretched thin. Another full-scale conflict could break us."
Lumumba raised a hand, silencing them both. "First things first. We need to investigate the fissures. That's where the sorcerer's power was coming from. And I have a feeling it's tied to the Sovereign's plan."
Koffi looked thoughtful. "There's been a pattern in the fissures' appearances—they've been increasing in both number and intensity. If the Sovereign is controlling them, it's possible he's using them to weaken the kingdom's defenses before a larger attack."
Amara crossed her arms, deep in thought. "The fissures... they're linked to the fabric of this world. If they continue to grow, they could tear apart the kingdom entirely."
Lumumba nodded grimly. "Then we need to stop them at the source. The next step is finding the next fissure before it opens."
Later That Night
After the meeting, Lumumba found himself wandering the academy grounds, his mind racing with everything that had happened. His body ached from the battle, but it wasn't the physical exhaustion that weighed him down—it was the uncertainty. The Sovereign was still out there, and Lumumba had no idea how to stop him.
He approached the edge of the courtyard where a lone figure sat, gazing out at the darkened landscape. Jon, his usual energy dampened, was quiet. Since Solann's death, Jon had been distant, brooding in a way Lumumba hadn't seen before.
Lumumba walked up beside him, sitting down on the stone bench without a word.
For a long moment, neither of them spoke.
Finally, Jon broke the silence. "It's strange, isn't it? After everything that's happened... after everything we've lost... we're still here. Still fighting."
Lumumba glanced at him, noting the weight in his voice. "That's all we can do. Keep fighting."
Jon's eyes darkened, his hands clenching into fists. "I can't stop thinking about her. About Solann. She deserved better than what happened to her."
Lumumba didn't know what to say. He had tried, in his own way, to comfort Jon after Solann's death, but the guilt and grief had taken their toll. And now, Lumumba could sense that something was shifting in Jon—something dangerous.
"We all miss her," Lumumba said quietly. "But this fight isn't over. Solann wouldn't want you to give up."
Jon laughed bitterly, shaking his head. "Give up? No, Lumumba, I'm not giving up. I'm done playing by the rules. I'm done waiting for something to change. I want to take control."
Lumumba frowned. "What are you talking about?"
Jon turned to face him, his eyes intense. "You've seen it too, haven't you? The way things are. The nobles, the Sovereign... they're not going to stop until they've destroyed everything. We can't keep fighting like this—reacting to every move they make. We need to strike first. Take the power before they do."
Lumumba's gut twisted. He had always known Jon had a thirst for action, for proving himself. But this... this was something else.
"And how do you plan to do that?" Lumumba asked, his voice cautious.
Jon's eyes gleamed in the dim light. "We take control. Of everything. We've been on the defensive for too long. The academy, the rebellion—it's time to unite them. Form a real army. And if that means taking down a few nobles in the process, so be it."
Lumumba's mind raced. He understood Jon's frustration—he shared it—but this was dangerous territory. They had fought to bring change, to challenge the power structures that oppressed people like them. But Jon's ambition was turning into something more... aggressive.
"Jon, you're talking about a coup," Lumumba said, his voice low. "That's not the answer. We can't become what we're fighting against."
Jon stood abruptly, his face set in determination. "If we don't take power, someone else will. And when they do, they'll crush us. You can't change the system from the outside, Lumumba. You have to be inside it. Controlling it."
Lumumba stood as well, facing his friend. "This isn't the way."
For a moment, the two stood in silence, the tension between them thick in the air. Lumumba could see the fire in Jon's eyes, the drive to take action no matter the cost. But he also saw the danger in that ambition—the risk of losing everything they stood for.
Finally, Jon's expression softened, and he let out a long breath. "Maybe you're right. Maybe I'm pushing too hard." He offered a small, weary smile. "I just don't want to lose anyone else."
Lumumba nodded, relieved but still uneasy. "Neither do I. But we have to be smart about this. If we start fighting each other, the Sovereign wins."
Jon didn't respond, his gaze distant once again. And though the conversation had ended, Lumumba knew the conflict wasn't over. Jon's growing desire for control, for power—it would come back. And when it did, Lumumba wasn't sure how he would handle it.