The temple was no longer a sanctuary—it was a battlefield of voices.
Rebels crowded around the long stone table, arguments clashing louder than swords. The smell of smoke still clung to their clothes from the quarter that had burned, and every face bore the weight of grief.
“This is madness,” Joren barked, slamming his fist against the table. “We can’t fight an empire. For every soldier we cut down, they’ll send a hundred more. They’ll burn another quarter tomorrow—and the whole city by week’s end!”
“Then what?” Elira shot back, her voice sharp as her blades. “Bow our heads? Lick their boots while they choke the life out of us? No, Joren. We fight because there is no other choice.”
The room roared with split loyalties. Some shouted with Joren for survival, others with Elira for defianc
