The night after the battle was heavy with grief. The survivors of Aron's band buried the fallen beneath the ancient oaks, marking their graves with simple stones. No fine words were spoken — only silence, broken by the sigh of the wind.
Aron knelt beside the graves, his head bowed. His sword, notched and stained, lay across his knees.
"I led them into this," he whispered.
Lina stood behind him, quiet. "You led them to stand for something. They chose this path."
"But it was my choice that brought them here."
---
By the firelight, the small band gathered. Faces hollow with hunger and sorrow, but eyes burning with something new — purpose.
Garron stood, lifting his voice so all could hear.
"We bled today. We lost good souls. But we proved something — to ourselves, and to that devil in the mask. We will not bow. We will not break."
The people murmured, heads nodding.
Aron rose, gripping his sword. "No more running. No more hiding. From this day, we fight as one — not as farmers or outcasts, but as free folk who will not be ruled by fear."
A rough cheer rose, small but fierce.
---
That night, they swore an oath — each one, hand on heart, voice steady despite the cold.
"We stand as one. For each other. For the fallen. For the freedom that was stolen."
And so the prince's band became something more: a true beginning of rebellion.
---
As dawn broke, Lina returned from scouting. Her news was grim.
"Smoke rises in the east. A village burns — Jaren's work."
Aron's jaw tightened. "He wants to drive fear before him."
"And he's sending more than raiders now. I saw banners. Soldiers. A real force."
Aron looked over his ragged band. They could not face an army in the open. Not yet.
"Then we strike from the shadows," he said. "We make every mile of this land a thorn in his side."
---
Far away, Jaren stood upon the broken walls of Sun City, watching the smoke rise from his latest conquest.
"My lord," a captain said, bowing low. "The prince's band grows bolder. The people whisper his name."
Jaren's voice was cold as the steel of his mask.
"Then silence their tongues. Burn their villages. Hang their leaders. Let them choke on ashes before they dare speak of hope."
The captain shivered at the words and hurried to obey.
Jaren stared east, toward the forests where the prince hid.
Run, little prince. Run as far as you can. The game is mine.