The Call to Rebellion

The rain pounded on the windows while the wind wailed loudly outdoors. Marcus stood, his face looking drawn and haunted, staring out into the stormy night. Three months. It seemed like forever since the world had crumbled for him, since the Vor'talon had engulfed his father, his kingdom, and his entire childhood.

His gaze fell upon his own image reflected in the rain-splattered window. The smooth curves of youth were no longer present; his face now appeared leaner, marked with the lines of a man burdened prematurely. His hair, which used to be golden, was now cut short for practical reasons, with silver strands shining at his temples as a reminder of the emotional strain from the recent months.

A soft rapping at the door broke the silence. "Come in," he rasped, his voice rough with unspoken emotion.

Andre entered as the door creaked open. Although a faint smile appeared on his lips, worry was evident in the crease of his brow. He observed Marcus's look, focusing on the haunting twinkle in his eyes.

"Well well!," exclaimed Andre, with a light voice that seemed ironic to what he really was. "Look who eventually decided to be part of the real world." "Marcus, congratulations on turning 20 years old."

Marcus gave a faint smile. "Thank you, Andre. While "graced" could be considered excessive. I'd prefer contemplating alone.

Andre let out a soft chuckle from deep within his chest. "I guess we all have our own methods of dealing with things." He motioned around the room, a sarcastic grin appearing on his face. Sadly, birthday cake isn't one of them due to the Vor'talon's short vacation arrangements.

The door creaked open again, with mischievous twinkling emerald eyes, walking confidently through the room. Before Marcus was able to react, she swiftly gave him a kiss on his cheek. His face became hot and a blush slowly moved up his neck.

"Happy birthday, Young prince," Res said with a rumble, a hint of amusement in her voice. Don't forget to close your eyes and make a wish before blowing out the pretend candles.

Marcus spoke in a frustrated manner, using the back of his hand to wipe his cheek. "Hey! There was no need for you to..."

Anya, who had come in after Res, giggled softly. "Stop bothering the poor boy, Res. He is still deeply affected by your unconditional love these few months.

Marcus playfully glared at Anya before letting out a sigh. This odd family was made up of a ragtag group of people all here because of circumstance. Anya, possessing strong devotion and green magical abilities. Res, a mermaid with a surprisingly gentle heart, while Andre, his closest companion and also a demon, is now overwhelmed by the responsibility of being in charge.

Their argument was interrupted by a sudden, sharp grating noise, causing them to immediately look towards the window. A crow, with its feathers tousled by the storm, sat precariously on the edge. Its shiny black eyes sparkled with an impressive level of Dexterity, and a tiny scroll was fastened to its leg.

Marcus felt a surge of excitement. This may be information, a hint, any possible assistance to aid in their battle against the Vor'talon. Anya, Andre, and Res huddled close to him, their expressions reflecting his blend of nerves and optimism.

Marcus carefully removed the message, feeling his heart race in his chest.

Marcus' fingers shook a little as he opened the parchment, feeling the rough surface brush against his skin. The ink appeared worn out, with some parts smudged possibly by rain or tears. He narrowed his eyes in the wavering candlelight, trying to make out the well-known, somewhat spidery script.

"Marcus," the letter started, "In the event that you receive this communication, be aware that our land is currently experiencing difficult times. The Vor'talon's hold over Decaoria strengthens every day, while hope fades more quickly than the fading light.

There is still a small spark of resistance. Corvus, an unfamiliar face to many, previously served in the Tenth Legion and now aims to ignite a new uprising. He talks about restoring the Legion, about retaliating against the darkness.

I understand that you, Marcus, are still youthful, carrying the weight of sorrow but also holding the possibility of achieving greatness. You have the blood of a chief and the heart of a fighter. For this reason, I recommend that you think about joining Corvus. The Tenth Legion is in need of your strategic thinking and bravery. It requires a symbol of hope, a guiding light to bring together the dispersed remains of our defiance.

This journey will have many risks, but keep in mind, the biggest triumphs are often born from challenging situations.

May destiny lead you, my youthful prince.

The mentor you had in the past.

"Silas'

After completing the letter, Marcus felt the heaviness of the words sinking in his stomach like a heavy burden. He quickly scanned the room, making eye contact with his worried friends and Andres mother.

"What is it, Marcus?" Anya asked, her voice laced with worry. "What does the letter say?"

He inhaled deeply, his voice rough as he talked. "It's from Silas. He claims... he claims there is an individual named Corvus who desires to reconstruct the Tenth Legion.

Andre's forehead wrinkled in puzzlement. "The 10th legion, what the hell is that"

Anya's eyes suddenly grew in understanding. "The Tenth Legion," her voice trembling. "A civil war broke out many years before your births. The Tenth Legion was a rebel organization, striving for freedom from an oppressive ruler, who like the Vor'talon's took over Decaoria. They eventually emerged victorious, but disbanded shortly afterwards.

A glimmer of rebellion sparked in Marcus' eyes. He gazed at Andre, a wordless inquiry lingering in the atmosphere. Andre and him made eye contact, sharing a moment of comprehension.

"We need to join," Marcus declared, sounding determined and resolute.

Anya, however, remained skeptical. "The Tenth Legion? Marcus, this is a dangerous proposition. We don't even know this Corvus, and rebuilding a rebellion? It sounds like suicide."

"Perhaps," Andre admitted, his voice hoarse. What other option do we have? Remaining here in hiding will not result in the restoration of our homes, or the vengeance of your father, Marcus.

Anya pressed her lips together, her face etched with worry. As she observed the determined expression on Marcus' face and the determined look in Andre's eyes, she realized that arguing would be pointless.

"Okay," she breathed out, a touch of acceptance coloring her tone. "If the two of you are foolish enough to enlist in this Legion, I won't stand in your way. However, I am also coming. Someone must watch over both of you and ensure that you don't end up getting yourselves killed.

Res' lips curved into a sly grin, her eyes shimmering with amusement. "Count me in as well," she rumbled. "These adventures seem more interesting than guarding this dusty mansion anyway."

Anya raised her hands in frustration. "She muttered, "Just great. Now we are embarking on a suicidal task with a crow serving as our messenger."

Although she had doubts, a spark of something resembling enthusiasm twinkled in her eyes. A small act of defiance had been started in the midst of great darkness.