The night was deep and cold. Aron sat by a small fire, staring at the bloodstained cloth wrapped around his arm. The arrow's cut was shallow, but it burned like shame.
We won... but at what cost? he thought. Around him, his ragged band rested — some sleeping, others keeping watch, their faces pale with exhaustion.
Lina crouched beside him, cleaning her blade. "You saved them, Aron. Don't let the guilt eat you."
Aron shook his head. "I see their faces. The men we killed. The men I killed. I didn't think it would feel like this."
Lina's voice softened. "You're not like him — the man in the mask. That's why we follow you."
---
At dawn, they moved again, leading the freed villagers deeper into the woods.
Among them was Mara, a woman with kind eyes and steady hands. She bandaged the wounded, shared what little food she had.
"You should know, my prince," she said as they walked, "the people speak of you. The son of the king, risen from ruin. They say you bring hope."
Aron frowned. "Hope is dangerous. It makes people believe in what may never come."
"But without it, what's left?" Mara asked.
Aron had no answer.
---
By midday, they reached a hidden glen, safe for the moment.
There, Garron began training the able-bodied villagers. He showed them how to hold a spear, how to watch for signs of ambush.
"Steel can be learned," he said, "but courage must come from the heart."
Aron watched them — farmers, craftsmen, boys no older than he. He felt the weight of their trust, heavier than any sword.
---
Meanwhile, in the fallen palace, Jaren stood at his great map table. His fingers traced the roads and rivers of the land, the towns that still smoldered from his wrath.
"My lord," said a hooded messenger, "the prince's band grows. He frees the weak, and they flock to him."
Jaren's mask gleamed in the dim light. "Let him gather them. Let him build his little army. Then we shall see how he bleeds when I tear it apart."
He placed a black token on the map — near the forest where Aron hid.
"The noose tightens."
---
That night, as the stars shone cold above the trees, Aron sat apart from the others. Lina joined him, silent at first.
Finally, she spoke. "You're building something here, Aron. Don't doubt it."
He looked at her, weary but determined. "Then we must keep building. Because the storm is coming. And I mean to meet it standing."