The Broken Shield wasn't hard to find. It stood on a corner in the western district, a two-story building that had seen better days. The sign hanging above the door showed a shield split down the middle, one half painted black, the other a defiant crimson. Someone had tried to paint over the crimson side with gray, but the red still bled through.
Symbolic, Tadano thought.
Inside, the common room was dimly lit and sparsely populated. A few patrons sat at scattered tables, nursing drinks and speaking in low voices that died the moment Tadano and Vivi entered. Eyes tracked them—assessing, measuring, judging.
A woman emerged from the back, wiping her hands on an apron. She was perhaps forty, with steel-gray hair pulled back in a practical bun and eyes that had seen too much. Scars marked her forearms—burn scars, Tadano recognized. Magic burns.
"We're closed," she said flatly.
"Marcus sent us," Tadano replied.
The woman's expression didn't change, but something flickered in her eyes. "Did he now." She studied them for a long moment, taking in their travel-worn clothes, Tadano's sword, the faint scent of smoke that always clung to Vivi. "You two look like you've had a long day."
"You could say that," Vivi muttered.
"Saw the Culling, did you?" The woman—Sarah, presumably—gestured to an empty table in the corner. "Sit. You look like you need food and answers. I can provide both."
They sat. Sarah disappeared into the back and returned with bread, cheese, and two mugs of something hot that smelled vaguely of spices. She pulled up a chair and sat across from them, her weathered hands folded on the table.
"I'm Sarah. I run this place. Marcus doesn't send people my way unless they're either very stupid or very angry." She looked between them. "Which are you?"
"Both," Vivi said immediately.
Sarah's lips twitched in what might have been a smile. "Fair enough. Let me guess—first time on the surface? First time seeing a Culling?"
"How did you—" Tadano started.
"You've got that look. Like the world just showed you its teeth." Sarah leaned back in her chair. "Where are you from? And don't say 'north' or 'the next town over.' I can smell a lie a mile away."
Tadano and Vivi exchanged glances. They hadn't discussed what to tell people. The underground was supposed to be secret, protected. But something about Sarah—the scars, the way she'd sized them up, the inn itself—made him think she'd understand.
"Underground," he said simply. "We lived in tunnels beneath the mountains. Escaped last night."
Sarah's eyebrows rose. "Underground settlements. Heard rumors of those. Never met anyone from one before." She looked at them with new interest. "So you spent your whole lives down there, then popped up and saw how things really work up here. That must've been a shock."
"They told us it was worse," Vivi said, her voice tight. "That the surface was hell. Constant patrols, executions, no freedom at all."
"It is hell," Sarah said quietly. "Just a different kind than you were expecting. The Darks learned a long time ago that you don't control people by crushing them completely. You give them just enough freedom to keep them docile. Let them run their shops, raise their families, live their little lives. And then, once a month, you remind them who's really in charge."
"The Culling," Tadano said.
"The Culling." Sarah's expression hardened. "Every month, they take children with strong magical potential. Ages ten to sixteen. No exceptions, no negotiations, no mercy. Been going on for three thousand years."
"Three thousand—" Vivi choked. "That's how long they've ruled?"
"That's how long they've been taking our children. The original invasion was longer ago, but the Culling system started three millennia back when they'd consolidated power." Sarah took a long drink from her own mug. "By now, it's just... normal. Parents know that if their child shows magical talent, they'll lose them eventually. Some try to hide it, suppress their kids' abilities. Doesn't usually work. The Dark's scanners can detect even latent magic."
"What happens to them?" Tadano asked. "The children they take?"
Sarah's face went grim. "No one knows for certain. They're taken to camps somewhere in the northern territories. Rumors say they're trained as soldiers, their magic corrupted and twisted into dark variants. Others say they're used as... fuel, somehow. That the Darks drain their magic to power their technology and weapons."
"And some say they're just killed," a new voice added.
Tadano's hand went to his sword, but Sarah waved him down. A man had emerged from a back room—middle-aged, with a scarred face and the build of a fighter. He carried a tray of food that he set on a nearby table before joining them.
"This is my brother, James," Sarah introduced. "He's paranoid but useful."
"Cautious," James corrected. "There's a difference." He studied the twins with sharp eyes. "You're the ones Marcus sent. The angry ones."
"We're not just angry," Vivi said, flames sparking at her fingertips. "We're ready to fight."
"Easy, girl. Save it for the Darks." James pulled up another chair. "Marcus told me you two watched the Culling and didn't run. That's rare. Most outsiders see it once and either leave or learn to look away. But you two looked like you wanted to burn the whole army down."
"We did," Tadano said flatly.
"Good." James leaned forward. "Then you might be interested to know you're not alone. There are others who feel the same way. People who are tired of bowing their heads and accepting the unacceptable."
"Revolutionaries," Sarah said, and the word hung in the air like a blade.
Tadano felt his pulse quicken. "There's an organized resistance?"
"Organized is a strong word," James said with a dry laugh. "But yes, there are groups. Small cells scattered across the territories. We don't coordinate much—too risky—but we share information, help people who need to disappear, and occasionally..." He smiled, and it wasn't pleasant. "We make things difficult for the Darks."
"How do we join?" Vivi asked immediately.
"You don't," Sarah said. "Not here, anyway. Riverside is too watched. Too controlled. Most people here—" she gestured at the few patrons in the common room, all of whom were very carefully not looking at their table, "—they know better than to get involved. Being a revolutionary means treason. Means execution if you're caught. Means your family gets punished too."
"But there's a group in the next town," James continued. "Millbrook, about a day's walk west. They're more active, more organized. Led by a woman named Captain Reine. She's... intense. But effective. If you're serious about fighting, that's where you need to go."
"We're serious," Tadano said.
"Are you?" Sarah studied them both. "Because this isn't a game. This isn't some adventure. You join the resistance, you become enemies of the most powerful empire in the known universe. You'll be hunted. Your names will be on wanted lists. Every Dark soldier will have orders to kill you on sight. And if they catch you—" She leaned forward, her voice dropping. "If they catch you, they'll make an example. Public execution if you're lucky. Torture and experimentation if you're not."
"My whole life I've been underground," Vivi said, her voice steady despite the flames dancing in her eyes. "Hidden away. Safe. And I just watched them drag children away while everyone stood by and did nothing. I'm not doing nothing anymore."
"I'm not going back," Tadano added. "And I'm not going to spend my life looking away. If fighting means dying, then at least I'll die free."
Sarah and James exchanged glances. Some unspoken communication passed between them.
"You're sure?" Sarah asked. "Once you walk this path, there's no going back."
"We already walked away from the only home we've ever known," Tadano said. "We can't go back anyway."
Sarah stood and walked to the bar, returning with a worn map that she spread across the table. "Millbrook is here," she pointed. "Follow the western road. It'll take you through Darkwood Forest—keep to the path, don't camp in the open. There are... things in those woods. Not Darks, but not friendly either."
"When you get to Millbrook," James continued, "go to the blacksmith shop on the east side of town. Ask for Garrett. Tell him the Broken Shield sent you, and that you're looking for 'better steel.' He'll know what it means."
"Better steel," Tadano repeated, committing it to memory.
"Captain Reine will want to test you," Sarah warned. "She doesn't accept just anyone. You'll need to prove you can fight, that you're committed, that you won't break under pressure. Many don't make it through her trials."
Vivi grinned, fierce and wild. "We'll make it."
"She's confident," James observed.
"She's reckless," Tadano corrected. "But she's also right. We'll make it."
Sarah studied them for a long moment, then nodded slowly. "Maybe you will." She rolled up the map and handed it to Tadano. "Take this. There are safe houses marked—look for the broken shield symbol. Not all of them are still active, but some are."
"Why are you helping us?" Vivi asked. "You said being a revolutionary means treason. You could be executed just for this conversation."
Sarah's expression softened slightly. "Because someone helped me once, a long time ago. Before I learned to keep my head down and survive." She touched the burn scars on her arm absently. "I lost my daughter in a Culling twelve years ago. Elena. She was fourteen. Strongest fire mage I'd ever seen." Her eyes found Vivi. "She had your gift. Your passion."
The common room seemed very quiet.
"I couldn't save her," Sarah continued. "I tried. Got these scars and a lifetime of regret for my trouble. But maybe—" She looked between them. "Maybe you two can save someone else's daughter. Someone else's son. Maybe you can do what I couldn't."
James stood, clapping Sarah's shoulder in silent support. "You'll leave at dawn. Sleep here tonight—we've got rooms upstairs. And for gods' sake, try to be subtle when you leave. The Darks have informants everywhere."
They spent the evening in Sarah's inn, eating real food and listening to James tell them what to expect on the road. The other patrons slowly left, each one nodding to Sarah but carefully ignoring the twins. Plausible deniability, Tadano realized. They'd seen nothing, knew nothing, could testify to nothing if questioned.
That night, lying in a real bed for the first time in his life, Tadano stared at the ceiling and thought about the children he'd watched being taken. About their parents' screams. About three thousand years of this happening, month after month, generation after generation.
Across the room, Vivi was quiet. No jokes, no reckless energy. Just silence.
"Vivi?" he called softly.
"Yeah?"
"Are you scared?"
A long pause. "Terrified."
"Me too."
"But we're doing this anyway?"
"Yeah," Tadano said. "We're doing this anyway."
"Good." He heard her shift in her bed. "Because I meant what I said. I'm not standing by anymore. Not ever again."
"Neither am I."
They lay in darkness, two sixteen-year-old kids about to declare war on an empire. They should have been in the underground, safe and hidden. Should have been training in familiar halls, eating mushroom-based meals, living the only lives they'd ever known.
Instead, they were here. On the surface. About to walk into danger with their eyes open and their weapons ready.
Tadano felt the cold hate that had settled in his chest earlier. It was still there, solid as iron. And beneath it, something else. Not hope exactly—hope seemed too fragile for what they were about to do.
Purpose.
He had a purpose now. A reason to fight beyond just survival or freedom. Those children—all the children taken over three thousand years—they deserved justice. They deserved someone to fight for them.
And if that someone had to be a magicless swordsman and his fire-wielding sister, then so be it.
Dawn came too quickly.
Sarah packed them food for the road—real food, not the dried rations from the underground. James gave Tadano a better sword belt and Vivi a pair of reinforced gloves for fire magic. Neither asked for payment.
"Stay alive," Sarah said as they prepared to leave. "And if you ever need a safe place, the Broken Shield's door is always open. To those who fight, anyway."
"Thank you," Tadano said, and meant it.
"Don't thank me yet. Thank me when you come back alive." She managed a small smile. "Now go. And try not to burn down Millbrook, girl."
Vivi grinned. "No promises."
They left as the sun rose, walking west out of Riverside toward Darkwood Forest and whatever waited beyond. Behind them, the town was waking up, beginning another day of peaceful occupation. Shops opening. People smiling. Life continuing.
As if children hadn't been torn from their homes just hours ago.
As if everything was fine.
But Tadano and Vivi knew better now. They'd seen the truth at dusk. And they'd chosen not to look away.
The road stretched ahead, leading toward Millbrook, toward Captain Reine, toward the resistance.
Toward revolution.
Two teenagers with nothing but a sword, fire magic, and righteous fury against the most powerful empire in the universe.
The odds were impossible.
But then again, so was escaping the underground.
And they'd already done that.