Chapter 11- Lyraea

Chapter 11- Loyalists and Loyalties

That night, as we crouched around the fire, tension simmered hotter than the embers. Exhaustion made us sharp-edged and dangerous, and it wasn't long before the conversation turned to politics. It always did when frustration outweighed our sense of unity.

"The rebellion's a fucking mess," Leo snarled, his voice a low growl as he shoved another branch into the fire. "We can't even move without tripping over someone's ego or a 'strategic compromise.' Combining squads to make this move was a shitty call, and you all know it."

"It wasn't a choice," Mara shot back, her tone cutting. "We don't have the numbers anymore, Leo. Half our forces are dead or scattered, and the other half are arguing over which hill is worth dying on. What the hell were we supposed to do?"

"You could've left your squad where they fucking were!" Leo snapped, rising to his feet. "Instead, of drawing an even larger target on our backs because you and Dane had to tag along with us, leaving us completely exposed. At the very least, thry should have made to move separately like everybody fucking else! What's the excuse for that, huh? Or are we just supposed to assume this was another one of Elyndra's brilliant ideas?"

Mara's jaw tightened, and her glare could've cut steel. "Don't you dare bring Elyndra into this. She's doing everything she can to keep this rebellion alive while people like you are busy questioning every damn move she makes."

"Yeah? And what about people like Dane?" Leo shot back, pointing at the commander, who sat silently by the fire. "Why the hell is our company commander playing babysitter here instead of leading the rest of the guard? What, are we just special?" His voice dripped with sarcasm, but beneath it, there was genuine anger.

"Enough," Dane said sharply, his voice a whip crack of authority. "You think I wanted to leave them and everybody else? You think I enjoy sitting here knowing my people are out there alone? I'm following orders, just like you are, Leo. So sit the hell down and shut up."

Leo's mouth opened, but he hesitated, his fury colliding with Dane's glare. "Fine," he said, but his tone was anything but. "But someone has to say it—this rebellion's turning into a damned monarchy of its own. The same fucking power games, the same shady decisions. And don't think for a second people aren't noticing who's always at whose side. Makes you wonder, doesn't it?"

The insinuation hung heavy in the air, crackling like the fire between us. Mara's face flushed, her knuckles white where they gripped her knees, but she didn't deny it.

Jazz's voice cut through the tension, cold and deliberate. "If you want conspiracy theories, Leo, look to the King, not us. He's the one tightening his noose around the territories. Every time we waste time on this infighting, he gains ground. You think you're pissed now? Wait until there's no rebellion left to argue over."

"And what's the plan, Jazz?" Leo challenged. "We just roll over and let Elyndra and her loyalists decide our future? Or are we burning everything to the ground and hoping we survive the fallout?"

"We're not hoping for anything," I said quietly, finally raising my gaze from the fire. "We're fighting because we don't have a choice. Do you think any of us would be here if there was another way? If we don't keep moving—if we don't push back—the King wins. And when he does, it's not just us who'll pay the price. It's the people out there—the ones we're supposed to protect."

The weight of my words seemed to smother the fire between us, leaving only embers of anger in its wake. Leo ran a hand through his hair, his frustration tempered by guilt, and Mara looked away, her expression conflicted.

Callan, sitting with his children at the edge of the firelight, broke the silence. "If we start acting like the King, we'll lose everything we're fighting for. All of this"—he gestured to the scarred land around us—"will mean nothing."

His voice was quiet but heavy with truth, and for a moment, no one spoke. The flames flickered and danced, casting shadows over faces lined with exhaustion and doubt.

"Then we don't act like him," Dane said finally, his tone firm. "We fight smarter. Together. Or we don't fight at all."

It wasn't a solution, but it was the truth. And in that moment, no one could argue with it.

---

The next morning arrived with a bitter chill, the kind that seeped into your bones and refused to let go. We moved quietly through the dense forest, the faint crunch of snow beneath our boots barely audible over the soft whistle of the wind. The air carried a sense of unease, as if the trees themselves were holding their breath.

It didn't take long for the trouble to find us.

Leo, always vigilant, halted abruptly, his hand shooting up in a silent command. I nearly collided with his back, my focus distracted by scanning the terrain ahead. His usually relaxed demeanor was gone, replaced by an expression so sharp it could cut steel.

"Patrol," he whispered, his voice barely audible over the rustling of branches. His hand rested on the hilt of his dagger, his knuckles white. "Up ahead. Five, maybe six. Scouts, I'd wager."

My pulse quickened, and I immediately motioned for the others to stay low. Jazz extinguished the faint flames that had been dancing along her fingertips, her face drawn tight with concentration. The heat dissipated instantly, replaced by the biting cold.

"How far?" I asked, my voice as steady as I could make it.

Leo tilted his head slightly, his keen eyes narrowing. "Two hundred paces. Maybe less. They're moving slow, like they're searching for something—or someone." His gaze shifted to me meaningfully.

"Do we fight or avoid?" Jazz murmured, her tone low but urgent. Her hand hovered near her waist, where her twin short swords gleamed faintly in the pale light.

For a moment, I weighed the options. Fighting risked exposure; avoiding them entirely might cost us valuable time. But there was a third option.

"Neither," I said firmly, straightening. "We outpace them."

Jazz raised an eyebrow but didn't argue. She trusted my judgment, even if it wasn't always the safest choice.

Moving quickly without leaving a trace was no small feat, but we had our advantages. Jazz spread her hands wide, summoning small, controlled bursts of heat to melt the icy patches in our path. The water refroze almost instantly behind us, leaving no evidence of our passing. Leo's sharp eyes and ears caught every stray movement ahead, guiding us around branches and underbrush that might have betrayed our presence.

The tension was suffocating. Every snap of a twig or distant crunch of snow made my heart lurch, but we pressed on, silent and swift.

When we reached a small ridge overlooking the patrol's path, I paused and crouched low, gesturing for the others to do the same. From here, we could see them—a small group of soldiers in dark cloaks, their armor glinting faintly in the morning light. They moved with practiced precision, scanning the trees with hawk-like focus.

One of them—a burly man with a scar running down his cheek—bent down to inspect something on the ground. My stomach dropped when I realized what it was: the faint imprint of a boot.

"We need to move. Now," I hissed, my voice barely above a whisper.

Leo nodded, his hand tightening on his dagger as he motioned for Jazz to lead the way. She didn't hesitate, her flames warming the icy path ahead just enough to prevent any sound from betraying us.

As we descended the ridge, the wind shifted, carrying the faint sound of the soldiers' voices.

"They've been here," one of them said, his tone gruff and irritated. "Tracks are fresh. Spread out—find them."

My chest tightened. They were close. Too close.

"Faster," I whispered, urging the others on. My breath clouded in the frigid air, but I forced my feet to keep moving, the snow muffled by Jazz's careful manipulations.

By the time the soldiers realized we'd been there, we were long gone, our tracks erased by the wind and our shadows swallowed by the forest.

Still, my hands trembled as we finally slowed, the adrenaline wearing off. I didn't let it show. I couldn't afford to.

"They're searching for us," Leo said quietly, his gaze lingering on the horizon.

I nodded, my jaw tight. "Let them. We're faster. Smarter. And we have more to fight for."

But deep down, I couldn't shake the feeling that this wouldn't be the last time we crossed paths. The hunt was far from over.

---

That evening, as we set up camp near the jagged cliffs overlooking the desolate plains leading to Ravaryn, the tension broke like a dam. The sky above us hung heavy, as if reflecting the weight of what was to come.

"Why the fuck are we heading to Ravaryn?" Ryen demanded, his voice slicing through the quiet. As the company's scout leader, he was usually level-headed, but the strain of the last few weeks had frayed even his composure. He stood with his arms crossed, his expression a mix of frustration and fear. "Do you all realize what we're walking into? The largest gathering point? We might as well paint targets on our backs."

"Because it's not up for debate," I snapped, exhaustion sharpening my tone. "The King's forces are sweeping through every safe zone we've got. If we don't consolidate, we'll be hunted down squad by squad until there's no one left."

"And what happens when they find Ravaryn?" Ryen shot back, his voice rising. "What then? We're just sitting ducks waiting to be slaughtered!"

"We'll deal with it when it happens," I said tightly. "Right now, this is our best chance."

"If we make it there," muttered Sara, our medic, as she tightened the straps on her kit. She rarely spoke during these arguments, but her words carried a grim weight. "Half the people in this company are already running on fumes. A siege in Ravaryn will finish what the journey started."

Dane, sitting near the fire, leaned forward, his usually calm demeanor cracking under the pressure. "Do you think I don't know that?" he said, his voice low but fierce. "Do you think I don't hear it in every damn step we take? But this isn't about us anymore. It's about every lesser-born who's praying we make it, who's hoping we'll be the ones to push back. So unless someone here has a better plan, I suggest we stop wasting time and focus on surviving long enough to get there."

The camp fell silent, save for the crackling fire and the distant howl of the wind through the cliffs.

"I just don't want to die for nothing," Ryen muttered, his voice quieter now, but no less bitter. His hands trembled slightly as he stared into the flames. "I've lost too many already, and now we're marching into the lion's den because someone higher up thinks it's a good idea. No one's listening to us. They never fucking listen."

"You think you're the only one who's lost people?" Mara snapped from her place near the supply bags. Her voice wavered, and for a moment, she looked like she might shatter. "Every single person present here today has had to burry a loved one or deal with loss in one way or another, I can assure you of that, but you don'tsee anyone else making a fuss." she takes a long shaky breath to steady herself, "we're all fucking scared"

"That's enough," Dane said, his tone firm but not unkind. He glanced at Mara, his expression softening as he gestured for her to sit down. She did, her shoulders slumping as the weight of her words settled over the group.

Leo, who had been quietly sharpening his blade, finally spoke up. "You're right, Ryen," he said, his voice uncharacteristically gentle. "No one listens to us. They send down their orders from on high, and we're the ones who have to clean up the mess when it all goes to shit." He paused, his gaze sweeping the group. "But if there's one thing I've learned, it's that nothing about this fight is fair. We're all pissed, we're all tired, and we're all scared. So here's the deal—we stick together, we keep each other alive, and when we get to Ravaryn, we give the bastards hell. If we're going down, let's make damn sure they feel it."

Ryen let out a shaky breath, and for a moment, his anger seemed to drain away, replaced by something more fragile. "I just—I just don't know if I can do this anymore," he admitted, his voice breaking.

Leo stood, walked over, and clapped a hand on Ryen's shoulder. "You can," he said firmly. "And you will. You're too stubborn to quit, and frankly, you'd be bored out of your mind without me around to piss you off."

A faint, reluctant smile tugged at Ryen's lips. "You're an ass, you know that?"

"Absolutely," Leo said, grinning. "But you're stuck with me. Now sit your moody self down and eat something before you start crying again. It's embarrassing for all of us."

The tension eased, just slightly, as the group chuckled. The fire burned on, casting shadows over faces lined with exhaustion and determination. For better or worse, we were all in this together.

---

That night, as the group settled, Leo leaned over and whispered, "You're a damn good leader, you know that?"

I rolled my eyes. "You're just saying that because Jazz didn't kill you today."

He grinned. "Partially," He said, offering me a cheeky grin. "But also it's that you didn't deserve that, you know? Them giving you all that shit for acting in the best interest of your squad. You did good chief." The look he gave me made my heart downright melt. There was something invaluable that shone in his eyes. Admiration. 

As I lay down, exhaustion pulling me under, I couldn't help but feel a flicker of hope.

We were outcasts, rebels, and survivors. But we were still here. Still fighting. And as long as we had each other, we had a chance.