The road stretched before Aron and Lina, winding through dead fields and burned homes. The land that once fed Sun City was now empty, stripped bare by the Puppet Master's men or destroyed by fire.
The sun was hidden behind clouds. The wind carried the bitter smell of smoke.
"Where are we going?" Aron asked, his voice hoarse from thirst.
"There's a town to the east," Lina said. "Stonehill. It's small, but it might still stand."
Aron nodded. His feet ached, his strength fading with each step. But he forced himself forward.
---
As they walked, Lina spoke softly, as if afraid the wind might carry her words to enemy ears.
"The Puppet Master's reach is long. His men are everywhere. They take what they want — gold, food, people."
Aron clenched his fists. "And no one stops them?"
"No one dares."
Aron felt anger rise in him, burning brighter than his pain. "Then I will. When I'm strong enough, I'll gather men. I'll take back the land."
Lina glanced at him. "Big words for a boy with no sword."
Aron looked down. She was right. His blade was gone, his armor in ruins. But his heart would not yield.
---
By nightfall, they reached a stream. The water was cold and clear. Aron fell to his knees, drinking deeply. Lina filled a small flask.
As they rested, they heard hoofbeats.
Lina pulled him behind a fallen tree. "Stay down!" she hissed.
From the road came riders — men in black cloaks, faces hidden behind masks of iron. One carried a banner with the mark of a broken crown — the sign of the Puppet Master.
The riders slowed, searching the land with sharp eyes.
"Someone passed this way," one said. "Fresh tracks."
Aron's heart pounded. He gripped a branch like a sword, ready to fight if they found him.
But the riders moved on, fading into the dark.
---
When it was safe, Lina let out a breath. "That was close."
"They hunt me," Aron said.
"They hunt everyone," Lina replied.
---
Far behind them, in the ruined palace of Sun City, Jaren stood at a great table. A map of the land lay before him. Small figures — tokens of wood and bone — marked towns and keeps.
A hooded man entered the hall. "My lord, the prince lives. Our riders found his trail."
Jaren's masked face showed no change. "Good," he said. "Let him see what I build from his father's ashes. Let him grow strong. When I break him, it will taste sweeter."
The game had many pieces. And the Puppet Master meant to play them all.