The cavern hummed with quiet life. Rebels whispered as they sorted sacks of grain, tended wounds, sharpened weapons dulled by fire and blood. For a few hours, it felt almost safe—a pocket of breath in a world choking on the king’s cruelty.
Cael sat on a stone ledge, shoulders heavy but eyes burning. His oath still lingered in the air, the rebels’ vow echoing like thunder in his heart. For the first time, he felt not just a fighter, but a leader.
And yet, the air carried something else too. A wrongness. A tremor that prickled at the edges of instinct.
Elira felt it first. She straightened suddenly, her hand hovering near her dagger. “Do you hear that?”
Rowan c****d his head, grinning as though ready for a jest. “Hear what? Your stomach growling?”
But Garron frowned. “No. She’s right. T
