The first light of dawn crept over the city, but it did not bring peace. The streets were quiet, heavy with the memory of last night's battle. Blood still stained the stones near the old market where Kael and his allies had faced Serak.
The people who had seen it whispered in hushed voices. The Shadow was forced back. Serak bled. Kael stood tall. For the poor and broken, it was a spark of hope. For the fearful, it was a sign of danger. Either way, the city was no longer the same.
The Throne Room
Inside the palace, Darion's wrath was burning hotter than fire. He sat on his black throne, his eyes sharp, his fingers gripping the iron armrests as if he wanted to crush them. His cloak of dark velvet swept across the floor, and his crown gleamed faintly in the torchlight.
The great hall was silent. Servants and guards kept their heads bowed, trembling. Everyone could feel it—the storm about to break.
At last, the doors opened. Serak entered slowly. His mask was cracked, his shoulder stained with dried blood. He dropped to one knee, his curved blades resting against the floor.
Darion's voice cut through the silence. "You failed me."
The words hung heavy.
Serak lifted his head slightly, his tone calm. "Kael is no ordinary man. He fights with the desperation of a cornered wolf. And he is not alone. His allies fought fiercely, and the people watched. My blades struck deep, but their courage did not break."
Darion rose from his throne, fury twisting his face. He slammed his fist against the iron armrest, the sound echoing like thunder. "I do not care for wolves. I do not care for whispers. I want silence! I want fear so deep that their tongues rot in their mouths before they dare speak my name again!"
He strode down the steps of his throne, his cloak dragging like a shadow. He pointed toward the city through the tall windows. "If fear is not enough, then blood will be. Let them choke on it."
One of his generals, armored in steel, stepped forward nervously. "My king, shall we send the army to crush them?"
Darion shook his head, his eyes glowing with cold cruelty. "No. Not yet. If we send the army, they will fight. And if they fight, Kael will rise as a hero. No… first we will poison the people's hope. We will make them see rebellion as death, not freedom."
His lips curved into a cruel smile. "We will take their families, burn their homes, hang their names from the gates. Let the people believe Kael has brought them nothing but suffering. When they curse his name, then we send the army to finish him."
The general bowed low, though unease flickered in his eyes. Even among Darion's men, his rage felt dangerous.
Serak stood, his mask hiding his expression. "Kael is becoming a symbol," he said slowly. "Symbols cannot be broken with blades alone."
Darion glared at him. For a moment, the hall went silent, and it seemed he might order Serak's head cut off right there. But instead, the king leaned closer, his voice dripping with venom.
"Then we will not only break the symbol. We will twist it until even his closest allies hate him. Go. Prepare the city. By tonight, they will beg for mercy."
Serak bowed his head and vanished into the shadows.
The Hideout
At the edge of the city, Kael and his allies had taken shelter in a ruined house. The walls were cracked, the roof half broken, but it was hidden enough to give them rest. The air inside smelled of smoke and damp earth.
Jorah's body had been buried at dawn. His cloak was his only shroud. His grave lay beneath an old tree, far from the eyes of soldiers.
Kael sat near a broken window, his sword laid across his knees. His eyes were fixed on the sunrise, but his heart felt heavy. Guilt pressed against his chest like a stone.
Mira came to him quietly. She placed a hand on his shoulder. "Do not carry this weight alone," she said softly.
Kael's jaw tightened. "Jorah followed me. He trusted me. Now he lies in the ground because of it. How many more will I lead to death?"
Mira shook her head. Her eyes burned with fire. "Jorah chose to fight. He knew the danger, and still he stood beside you. That is not your burden—it is his honor."
Arin, leaning against the wall with his arm wrapped in bandages, growled. "The people saw us fight Serak. They saw Darion's shadow bleed. That is worth more than a hundred speeches. If Jorah's death gives birth to courage, then his sacrifice is not wasted."
Leona, her hands still stained with blood from tending wounds, spoke softly. "But Darion will not stay silent. His wrath will be terrible. We must be ready. We need safe places, allies, weapons. If we stay here, he will crush us before we can rise."
Kael lifted his eyes, looking at each of them. He saw their pain, their scars, but also their fire. "Then we move carefully," he said. "If Darion wants war, he will have it—but on our terms, not his."
Mira nodded firmly. "Then let us begin. The people wait for us."
Scene Three – Whispers in the Streets
By midday, the city was alive with talk. In the narrow alleys, in the markets, in the taverns, people whispered of last night's fight.
"I saw it," a baker told his neighbor. "Serak himself! The shadow who has killed more men than the plague. And Kael stood against him. Not only stood—he made him bleed."
Others shook their heads in fear. "You fool. If Darion learns we speak of this, he will burn the whole market. Do not praise Kael too loudly—his rebellion will bring only death."
But still, hope flickered in their voices. Some spoke of Kael as a savior. Others cursed his name in fear. Either way, his story was spreading.
In the shadows of the streets, Darion's spies listened. Every word, every whisper was carried back to the palace.
– Blood for Fear
That evening, Darion struck.
The palace gates opened, and soldiers poured into the streets. They did not march to war—they marched to punish. Families suspected of helping Kael were dragged from their homes. A merchant was beaten in front of his children. Three men were tied to posts in the city square, accused of whispering Kael's name.
By nightfall, their bodies hung from ropes, swaying in the wind.
The people gathered, their faces pale, their eyes wide with horror. Soldiers shouted that this was Kael's fault—that his rebellion had brought this death upon them.
Some believed. Some turned away in silence. But others clenched their fists, their anger growing.
From the shadows, Mira watched with Kael at her side. Her voice was low and filled with rage. "He thinks this will silence us."
Kael's eyes burned. "No. This will only feed the fire."
The ropes creaked in the wind, and the city held its breath. Darion had shown his wrath, but in doing so, he had also shown his fear.
The battle for the city had only just begun.