The morning air was thick with smoke and ash.
Cassian stood atop a crumbling wall overlooking the ruins of the makeshift rebel camp. The embers of burned tents still smoldered, blackened skeletons of hope. The air smelled of char and blood — a cruel reminder of how close they had come to annihilation.
Behind him, his ragged band of survivors moved like ghosts — silent, broken, but alive. The dozen who remained carried wounds, grief, and terror, but most had not yet lost the fire that had brought them this far.
"How many?" Cassian asked, voice low and raw.
Marik, the oldest among them and Cassian's reluctant second-in-command, wiped blood from his lip. "Thirty lost. We barely escaped. The Empire's forces came like a tide of steel and flame. They didn't leave a stone unturned."
Cassian clenched his fists. "They want to bury us before we can grow."
Marik nodded grimly. "They sent the Imperial Vanguards. The same ruthless unit that crushed the Northern Rebellions two years ago. That's a warning... and a death sentence."
Cassian's mind raced. The Vanguards were known as the Empire's executioners — merciless, trained killers loyal only to the throne and its shadowy enforcers. If they were hunting them, the rebellion was no longer just a whispered rumor; it was a declared war.
And the Empire wanted total annihilation.
His eyes drifted to the horizon where the capital's spires pierced the dawn haze — the heart of the Empire, the source of the poison that had branded him a traitor. The Third Prince's face flickered in Cassian's mind — cold, smug, untouched by defeat.
He wasn't just a prince anymore. He was a symbol. The enemy.
A Meeting of Shadows
Back in the ruins, Cassian gathered his closest few in a circle.
"Listen carefully," he said, voice steel. "This is no longer a game of shadows and whispers. The Empire knows who we are and what we plan. They will hunt us relentlessly."
Lyra, the healer with haunted green eyes, looked at him with a mix of fear and fierce resolve. "They're using new weapons—burning fields, scorched earth. We have no safe place."
Cassian nodded. "We need allies. We can't win this war alone."
Marik added, "The Southern Guilds might help — if we can reach them before the Empire does. But the roads are watched."
Cassian's gaze hardened. "Then we take back the roads. We strike fast, hit supply lines, and show the Empire that we're not just rats to be crushed."
A quiet murmur of agreement rose. But beneath it, Cassian sensed the fear — the doubt.
They had tasted power, but power came at a price.
The Arrival of the Herald
Just as the meeting ended, a distant horn echoed through the morning mist.
A rider appeared over the hill — alone, cloaked in deep crimson, his armor glinting faintly. He carried no banner.
Cassian's heart skipped. A lone rider this close to the rebel camp was either mad or a harbinger.
The rider halted, dismounted, and strode purposefully into their midst.
"I am Kael," he said, voice calm but sharp as a blade. "Herald of the Empire's High Chancellor."
The group tensed.
Kael's eyes scanned each face, lingering on Cassian with unnerving intensity.
"You stand on the edge of oblivion," Kael said. "Lay down your arms, surrender your leaders, and the Empire may yet show mercy."
Cassian stepped forward, voice cold. "Mercy from the Empire is death disguised. We seek freedom."
Kael smiled thinly. "Freedom is a luxury for those who obey. Your rebellion will be extinguished."
He reached into his cloak and revealed a small, glowing orb — pulsing with an eerie blue light.
"Behold the Chancellor's new weapon: The Seer's Eye."
Before anyone could react, Kael crushed the orb in his palm. A wave of cold energy rippled outward, freezing the very air.
Lyra staggered, clutching her chest. "It drains life... this is sorcery!"
Kael's voice dropped to a whisper, "And it finds those who hide."
Cassian's blood ran cold.
If the Empire possessed this weapon — a magic that could seek them across miles, through stone and shadow — then no corner of the land was safe.
The Threat Tightens
Night fell like a shroud as the rebels moved silently from the ruins.
Cassian's mind churned with the grim truth: their time was running out.
They were hunted.
The Empire's reach had grown darker, more ruthless.
He caught a glimpse of Lyra, tending to a wounded boy with gentle hands — a moment of fragile hope amidst the storm.
He wanted to protect her. To protect them all.
But the road ahead was bathed in shadow and blood.
The crown he sought was not just a prize.
It was a weapon.
And he would need to wield it — or be consumed by the Empire's crushing grasp.