Opening Verse
"The quiet footfall, the wary breath,
Where hope walks lightly, shadowed by death.
One spark beneath the canopy's weight—
The broken flee, but do not break."
---
They were out. Out of the North Barracks, out of the grasp of the Crown's garrison patrols, and out of the comfort that once bound them to commands. The forest greeted them like a half-familiar stranger—ancient, watchful, and not quite forgiving. Of the original company that had once stood in orderly lines beneath the Crown's flags, only thirty-seven remained.
And Rin was the youngest among them.
They gathered in a broken clearing by a sluggish stream, their breaths misting in the cold. Hunger gnawed at their ribs. Their weapons, few and makeshift, were salvaged from fallen soldiers, rusted crates, or stripped from bodies the Crown left behind. One spear was bound with twine. A bow had a crack near the grip. Even the cloaks they wore were scavenged—ragged wool soaked in dew.
And still, Rin's broken blade hummed.
"Food won't last more than two days," Sera said grimly. "We've been splitting dried root and beet grain into pieces that wouldn't satisfy a rat."
Kael nodded. "And even those are running thin."
Brann leaned against a stone, rubbing dirt over his fingers like ash. "I'd trade all that for a blade that won't snap on the first swing."
Rin sat alone near the edge, watching his blade shimmer faintly in the starlight. The steel was jagged, broken clean across the middle with a fracture that glinted like frozen lightning. Still, it hummed—as if it remembered battle, or called to it.
Kael approached him. "It's doing it again, isn't it?"
Rin gave a slight nod. "Like wind through a hollow branch."
"Does it mean they're near?"
Rin looked up. "Yes."
The first movement came from the ridge. A shadow too solid, a motion too sharp to be the wind. Then another.
Sera's voice dropped into a whisper. "Crown scouts."
Velza moved first, melting into the trees like a panther. Brann followed with his cracked bow. The others fanned out—but Rin remained still.
The blade pulsed.
Then he moved.
The scouts didn't stand a chance. One blink and Rin was behind them, his movements cutting through the dark like a second shadow. The broken blade slid through the first soldier's ribs like a whisper. The second raised a cry, but it died with him.
When Rin returned, there was no blood on his clothes—only silence behind his eyes.
"They're testing our perimeter," he said. "A vanguard, not the main force."
Sera scowled. "Which means the next strike will be heavier."
"We need to move," Kael said. "This forest doesn't care who dies in it."
Velza crossed her arms. "Move where? We have no map, no shelter, no food."
"We have thirty-seven," Rin said. "And this." He held up the broken blade. "It will sing before death comes. That's enough for now."
---
Closing Verse
"The woods may close, the stars may fade,
But steel shall sing where men are made.
Though hope runs thin and silence thick—
The youngest heart may still beat quick."