The barracks were quiet. Morning light crept in slowly, filtering between the wooden slats in faint, dusty lines. The scent of sweat and steel hung in the still air. Aiden lay on his side, half-asleep, arm tucked under his head. The ache in his ribs had dulled overnight, just enough to let him drift. But it didn't last.
Boots echoed lightly on the wood floor.
"Up," a voice said flatly.
Aiden blinked, then turned his head. Vaena stood over him, arms crossed, hair tied back, eyes sharp.
"What time is it?"
"Early. Lyanna's back. She brought someone with her."
Aiden sat up in an instant.
He didn't need to ask who. There weren't many strangers left to bring.
Ro.
Vaena was already walking away.
"Council's meeting. Garron asked me to wake you," she said without turning.
Aiden raised an eyebrow. "He did?"
"Said you'd want to know."
"He was right."
Vaena didn't respond. She opened the door and stepped out without looking back.
She pushed open the barracks door without looking back.
Aiden stood, stretching the dull ache from his back and ribs. The mission had taken more than he realized. He dressed quickly, slipping on his boots and tightening his belt. The air outside was cool, not cold, and the sun was barely clearing the trees.
The village stirred around him. Fires were being lit. Voices murmured in narrow alleys. Tools clinked against carts. No one stopped him. A few nodded, others glanced and said nothing. He moved with purpose, headed for the center.
The council hall stood proudly, bigger than the buildings around it, built to last. Heavy beams framed the wide door. Guards stood outside, tense. One moved forward as Aiden approached.
"You're not-"
"I know," Aiden said, brushing past.
The door opened with a low creak.
Inside, the tension was thicker. Lamps burned along the walls, casting light over the long wooden table. Seated around it were elves and humans alike, most in their usual places. Some leaned forward, speaking in low voices. Others watched silently.
Zane sat at the far end, relaxed but too still. Lyanna stood beside him, arms folded. She looked exactly as she had before leaving-no injury, no change in posture. If anything, she seemed more certain now.
Next to her stood Ro.
He hadn't changed. Leaner, maybe. A little paler. But his expression was the same. Quiet. Watching.
Aiden stepped inside. The door clicked shut behind him.
Several heads turned.
Zane's voice came first. "You're not on the list."
"I know," Aiden said.
He stepped forward.
"But if this meeting is about Ro's return, then I need to speak."
No one stopped him.
"The mission succeeded because of me."
The words hung in the air.
One of the council members scoffed quietly. Another raised a brow.
"That's a bold claim," an older man said, fingers steepled beneath his chin.
Zane leaned back slightly. "Is that so?"
"Yes. There was no plan. No intel. A traitor was in our ranks. If I hadn't acted when I did, none of them would have made it out. Ro wouldn't be here."
The room stirred again. A few whispered.
"And why say this now?" someone asked.
"Because no one else did."
Zane's gaze didn't waver. He listened, still unreadable.
Aiden took a step closer to the table.
"You sent your own sister on that mission," he said, voice level. "With barely enough intel to fill a page. We were briefed, yes-but not for what we found. That wasn't preparation. That was negligence. You knew what was at stake, and you still sent a group in blind. We weren't treated like assets. We were treated like expendables."
Several council members stirred. One leaned back. Another looked toward Zane.
"And still," Aiden continued, "you expect success without direction. I'm not here to ask for praise. I'm here because the people who make decisions need to know who actually gets results."
Zane tapped a finger against the table but remained quiet.
Aiden let the silence stretch a moment longer.
"If it weren't for me, that mission would've failed before it started. If you're going to keep pretending it was clean, at least know who cleaned it up."
More murmurs followed. No one interrupted.
Zane tapped a finger once against the table but said nothing.
He didn't rise to it. Not yet.
Aiden could tell he was holding back.
The room had gone quiet.
That's when Lyanna stepped forward.
"He's right."
The words cut through the silence.
Zane turned to her slowly. He didn't speak.
She nodded. "Everything would have collapsed without him. He made the calls. He kept us alive."
Someone exhaled quietly.
"So that's how it is," Zane said.
Ro still hadn't spoken. His eyes flicked once toward Aiden, unreadable, then back to the floor.
"What do you want?" Zane asked finally.
"Nothing."
"Then why come?"
"Because someone needed to say it."
Zane nodded once, though it wasn't agreement.
"Then say your piece. And leave."
Aiden didn't look at anyone else. "That was my piece."
He turned, stepping back toward the door.
As he reached it, he paused.
"You're lucky," he said without facing them. "But you should consider using something other than luck to lead this rebellion."
He stepped outside. The sun had risen higher, casting shadows across the village. A few guards near the steps shifted when they saw him. One of them was Vaena.
She stood with arms crossed, speaking quietly to the other two. Her tone was low, unreadable. When she noticed Aiden approaching, she turned to face him.
"They said you pushed your way in," she said.
"I did."
"Not the smartest choice."
"Wasn't trying to be smart."
She studied him for a moment. Then added, "Garron said he wanted to see you. He's at the training grounds."
Aiden raised an eyebrow. "You helping him a lot lately."
Vaena didn't respond.
He waited a second longer, then nodded and walked past her.
The path to the training grounds was quiet. Aiden walked slowly. His mind wasn't on the boy.
Why did Lyanna speak up for me? It's not like we were on the best terms. After the mission, everyone seemed a little irritated with each other... maybe not Garron.
Still, her stepping in today wasn't something I expected. Something must have gone wrong when she spoke with Zane. Something that shifted her view.
I need to know what they talked about. I need to talk to him personally.
He kept walking.
His thoughts drifted to the mission itself. The bodies. The ones he killed. How many had it been? He wasn't sure anymore. He remembered the feeling more than the count.
And the souls. He had collected them all right? Its not he has really a control over it, but he could use it, but first he need a quiet place to count, not here.
Then came the memory of that window, the warning.
"You have been spotted."
He had dismissed it then, focused on surviving the risk ahead. But now, he wasn't sure.
Was it talking about the mission?
Or something else entirely?