The night pressed heavily on the clearing. Stars dotted the sky like distant watchful eyes, and the thin crescent moon spilled silver through the branches, painting sharp shadows across the ground. The resistance camp, tucked deep within the woods, looked deceptively calm: tents pitched neatly, fires reduced to embers, the hush of men and women at rest after a long day. But beneath that calm, Jamie could feel it — the tension, the unspoken unease that wrapped itself around every whispered word and every glance cast in his direction.
He sat near a low fire, sharpening his knife on a whetstone, more for something to do with his hands than any real need. Across from him, Elian's face flickered with the firelight, expression thoughtful, eyes trained not on Jamie but on the shadows beyond the fire's reach. Derah leaned against a tree a few paces away, his posture deceptively casual, though Jamie had come to realize that Derah never truly relaxed. His hand always rested within reach of his blade, his gaze always cataloging the camp and those within it.
Jamie shifted uncomfortably. He was no stranger to being the outsider — life had trained him for that — but here, it was different. This wasn't simply suspicion. It was something sharper, colder. The resistance welcomed him in name, but their eyes said otherwise. To them, he was untested. Worse, he was unknown.
The sound of footsteps pulled Jamie's attention. A tall figure approached, his cloak brushing the earth, the hood pulled back to reveal a weathered face framed by graying hair. This was Kael — one of the commanders of the resistance. His presence drew subtle straightening of spines from the men and women nearby.
"Jamie," Kael said, his voice calm, steady. "Walk with me."
Jamie exchanged a quick glance with Elian, who gave the faintest shrug, and then he rose to follow. Derah pushed himself off the tree and fell in behind them without a word.
They walked in silence for a time, weaving through the maze of trees that surrounded the camp. Jamie noticed the marks on the trunks again — the same symbols Derah had explained days earlier. Each carried weight. Unity. Loyalty. Freedom. Yet, as Kael led him deeper, Jamie wondered how much those ideals still burned bright here, in a camp smothered by suspicion.
At last, Kael stopped near a stream, its water whispering over smooth stones. He turned, his eyes unreadable in the moonlight.
"You've drawn attention, Jamie," Kael began. "Some say you're a risk we can't afford. Others…" he paused, studying Jamie carefully, "…believe you may be something more. Which are you?"
Jamie's jaw tightened. "I don't know if I'm more. But I do know I'm not a risk. I didn't come here to betray anyone."
"Words are easy," Kael said, his tone neither cruel nor kind. "Trust is not."
Derah stepped forward then, his voice firm. "He's proven himself more than once. If not for Jamie, Elian wouldn't be breathing. That should count for something."
Kael's gaze flicked to Derah, then back to Jamie. "Perhaps. But saving one life is not the same as standing against the weight of an empire. Tell me, Jamie… why are you here?"
The question hung in the air, heavier than the stillness around them. Jamie opened his mouth, then stopped. Why was he here? For survival, yes. For purpose, maybe. But deep beneath, there was something else, something harder to name — a pull, as if his steps had been guiding him toward this path long before he knew it existed.
"I'm here," Jamie said slowly, choosing his words with care, "because I can't stand on the sidelines anymore. I've seen what they've done. I've lived through it. And if there's even the slightest chance to change things, I can't turn away."
Kael studied him for a long moment. The stream gurgled quietly, filling the silence. At last, Kael gave a single nod. "We shall see."
Without another word, he turned and walked back toward camp, leaving Jamie and Derah in the moonlit clearing.
Jamie exhaled slowly. "That didn't feel like trust."
Derah gave a low chuckle. "With Kael, nothing ever does. But the fact that he asked means he's considering you. That's more than most newcomers get."
Jamie crouched near the stream, splashing cold water on his face. His reflection stared back at him — weary, tense, uncertain. He didn't feel like the person he had just claimed to be. He didn't feel like a man capable of standing against an empire. And yet, the words he'd spoken had come from somewhere deep within him, a place he hadn't touched in years.
When they returned to camp, the air seemed heavier. A group had gathered near the central fire, voices hushed but urgent. Jamie caught fragments of their words — talk of supplies raided, of a patrol spotted too close to their perimeter, of betrayal whispered like poison in the dark.
The word made Jamie's stomach twist. Betrayal. It was the undercurrent that ran through every glance, every half-finished sentence around here.
As he and Derah approached, the voices fell quiet. One man, broad-shouldered with a scar across his cheek, spoke louder, making sure Jamie could hear. "We let strays in, and this is what happens. Someone's been talking. Someone's feeding them our movements." His eyes locked on Jamie's. "Tell me why it isn't you."
Jamie stiffened. "Because I'm standing here with you, not out there with them."
The man sneered. "Easy to say. Harder to prove."
Derah stepped in sharply, his voice like steel. "Enough, Brenn. If you have proof, show it. If not, keep your suspicions to yourself."
The firelight danced across Brenn's face as he leaned back, but his glare never left Jamie. "Proof will come. It always does."
Jamie said nothing, but the unease settled deeper into his bones.
Later that night, Jamie couldn't sleep. He lay staring at the canvas above him, listening to the forest — the rustle of leaves, the distant call of an owl, the occasional crack of a branch underfoot. But beneath it all was something else, something heavier: the weight of eyes that never stopped watching him.
Elian stirred nearby, restless even in sleep. Derah sat at the entrance, as if he'd never closed his eyes, sharpening his blade in slow, steady strokes.
Finally, Jamie slipped out into the night. The camp was quiet, but not silent — guards moved at the perimeter, their outlines barely visible in the moonlight. He walked aimlessly for a while, until he found himself standing before one of the marked trees. His fingers traced the etched symbol, rough beneath his touch. Unity. Loyalty. Freedom.
But what did those words mean here, when suspicion threatened to tear them apart from within?
Footsteps behind him made him turn. It was Elian, rubbing sleep from his eyes. "Couldn't rest either?"
Jamie gave a faint shake of his head. "Too many voices. Too many doubts."
Elian stepped closer, glancing at the symbol on the tree. "They doubt everyone at first. Don't take it personal."
Jamie studied him. "Do they doubt you?"
Elian gave a humorless laugh. "Every day. I'm young, unproven, a liability in their eyes. Same as you. The difference is, I've been here long enough to know that trust doesn't come from words. It comes from action."
Jamie looked back at the symbol. "Then maybe it's time I show them."
Elian's eyes lit faintly, curiosity sparking. "What are you thinking?"
Jamie didn't answer immediately. He didn't have a plan yet, not exactly. But something in him stirred, the same pull that had carried him this far. He wasn't here to simply exist in the shadows of others. If the resistance was to mean something, he had to prove he belonged — not with speeches, but with deeds.
And somewhere in the darkness beyond the trees, the empire was waiting.
Morning came with tension sharp as blades. Kael stood at the center of camp, issuing quiet orders. Scouts prepared to move, supplies were packed quickly, weapons checked and rechecked. There was talk of a supply line the regime had fortified nearby — an opportunity, but also a risk.
Jamie found himself watching the preparations with a strange sense of inevitability. Whatever was about to happen, it felt like the first step toward answering Kael's question: was he a risk, or something more?
When Kael's eyes met his across the camp, Jamie straightened, ready for whatever was coming.
The shadows within the camp were thick, but beyond them lay something else — a chance?.