The empire moved at dawn.
We heard it before we saw it.
Messengers came from the outer ruins, breathless, faces pale.
"They've sealed the western roads," one said. "All gates under imperial control."
"Shadow Guard units," another added. "Not patrols. Hunters."
Lira stood over the map carved into the stone table.
"They're not chasing anymore," she said. "They're cleansing."
I felt it settle in my chest.
This wasn't about arrest.
This was about erasing me.
"They want the Ashlands burned," Joren muttered. "And everyone in it."
Seraphine stood beside me, her hand resting lightly against the table to steady herself.
"They will make an example of this place," she said. "To show what happens to anyone who shelters you."
My jaw tightened.
They would destroy villages. Kill refugees. Call it justice.
All because of me.
Lira looked at me.
"So," she said, "what does the empire's favorite traitor plan to do about it?"
The room went quiet.
This was the moment.
Not when I ran.
Not when I killed.
But when I decided what I would become.
I looked around the chamber.
At fighters with no flags.
At people who had already lost homes, families, names.
At Seraphine, who had chosen me over the throne.
"I won't let them burn this place for my sake," I said. "And I won't keep running while they slaughter anyone who helps me."
I straightened.
"If they want a traitor… I will be one they cannot silence."
Silence held for a heartbeat.
Then Joren spoke.
"Are you saying what I think you're saying?"
"Yes," I said.
"I am done surviving."
I met Lira's gaze.
"I am building something they cannot control."
Something dangerous.
Something permanent.
"A rebellion," I said.
The word echoed in the chamber.
Seraphine's breath caught softly beside me.
Not fear.
Recognition.
Lira studied my face.
"You realize what that means," she said. "Once you declare war, there's no return. No mercy. No forgiveness."
I nodded.
"They already crossed that line for me."
She was silent for a long moment.
Then she smiled.
Slow. Sharp.
"Then welcome to the Ashlands, rebel king."
The room shifted.
Not cheers.
Not shouting.
Resolve.
I turned to the map.
"They'll expect us to hide," I said. "So we strike first."
Joren leaned closer.
"Where?"
I pointed to a black mark near the border.
"Here. Supply outpost Cinderwatch. It feeds three imperial units hunting us. Destroy it… and we starve the manhunt."
Lira's eyes gleamed.
"A suicide run."
"A message," I said.
Seraphine's voice was calm beside me.
"I'm going with you."
I looked at her.
"You're still wounded."
"I can still fight."
I stepped closer, lowering my voice.
"This won't be like before," I said. "If this goes wrong…"
She met my gaze without hesitation.
"It already went wrong when they chose to hunt you."
I had no answer for that.
We moved at night.
Black cloaks. No banners. No horns.
Only shadows slipping through broken land.
Cinderwatch rose from the darkness ahead—a fortified imperial outpost, torches burning along its walls.
Guards patrolled the gate.
Too many.
"This is madness," Joren whispered.
"It's necessary," I replied.
We split into teams.
Lira took the eastern wall.
Joren circled wide.
Seraphine stayed close to me.
We reached the outer ridge.
From here, I could see inside the courtyard—crates of weapons, barrels of supplies, imperial banners hanging proudly in the firelight.
All meant to hunt us down.
I drew a slow breath.
"This is where it begins," I said.
Seraphine's hand brushed mine.
"Then don't look back."
We moved.
Silently.
Deadly.
The first guard fell without a sound.
Then the second.
We slipped through the gate like ghosts.
Inside, chaos waited.
A torch dropped.
A shout broke the silence.
"Attack!"
Steel flashed.
Fire exploded as Lira ignited the supply barrels.
Imperial soldiers rushed in from every side.
"Hold the line!" I shouted.
Seraphine fought at my side, every strike precise despite the pain she hid.
An enemy blade slipped past my guard, aimed at my back—
She took him down before I even turned.
"You okay?" she asked.
"I am," I said. "Because you're here."
The courtyard burned.
Smoke choked the air.
Joren set the final charges.
"Now!" he yelled.
We ran as the outpost collapsed behind us.
Fire roared into the night.
Cinderwatch fell.
From the ridge, we watched the flames consume the empire's foothold.
Their supply line.
Their certainty.
For the first time…
We had struck back.
Later, in the quiet of the ruins, Seraphine sat beside me on a broken wall.
The firelight was gone.
Only stars above us now.
"You didn't hesitate," she said. "Not once."
"I was done hesitating the day they tried to take you from me."
She looked at me, something soft beneath the steel in her eyes.
"You know what you did tonight?"
"I started a war," I said.
She shook her head slightly.
"No," she said. "You gave people something they haven't had in years."
I met her gaze.
"Hope."
She leaned closer.
"And something else."
"What?"
"A future."
Our foreheads touched.
The world felt different now.
Not smaller.
Clearer.
The empire had named me a traitor.
Tonight…
I became something worse.
A symbol.
And symbols are dangerous.
Because once they are born…
They cannot be erased.