Chapter 17: The Flames of Uprising

My body still ached from the "lesson on the streets" a few nights ago. Faint bruises remained beneath my worn-out clothes, and the small scar on my brow served as a constant reminder of their cruelty. But the physical pain was nothing compared to the raging fire of anger and resolve burning within me. That attack didn't break me—it awakened something deep inside… A raw energy that connected me to the land, a reminder of the Stonehand blood coursing through my veins, and the realization that this fight was far greater than just my land.

Today was market day in Oakhaven. The usually quiet village square bustled with activity. Farmers from neighboring villages brought crops, crafts, and livestock to trade. The air was filled with bartering voices, warm greetings, and bursts of laughter. Yet, beneath the liveliness, I could sense an underlying tension—averted gazes, hushed whispers that ceased when I walked by, and, most tellingly, the increased presence of Lord Thorn's soldiers. Dressed in dark gray uniforms, they prowled the marketplace with an air of authority. Faintly glowing runes etched onto their breastplates served as a reminder of their power—and their arrogance.

I moved through the crowd, ears open to the murmurs. Complaints about rising taxes, the outrageous price of seeds, and rumors of a "development project" creeping closer each day. The unrest was real. It was dry kindling waiting for a spark.

And then, I saw it—a newly placed enchanted noticeboard standing at the center of the square. The illusionary display shimmered with images of lush forests transforming into a prosperous city, grand marketplaces, modern textile mills, and beautiful homes, all accompanied by Lord Thorn's deceitful slogan, proclaiming a "bright future."

Rage surged within me, choking my breath. How dare they? How dare they flaunt these illusions, these lies, in front of the very people whose suffering would make them real? How dare they paint a beautiful dream built on our destruction?

I couldn't hold it in any longer.

"LIES!" My voice thundered across the square as I stepped forward, pointing directly at the magical sign. "It's all lies!"

The chatter died instantly. Every head turned to me. Merchants fell silent. Villagers froze mid-purchase. Even Thorn's soldiers whipped around, their expressions hardening.

"A bright future?" I swept my gaze across the crowd, my voice ringing with newfound strength, an energy rising from the very earth beneath me. "A future where they steal our ancestral lands? A future where they tax us into starvation? A future where they send thugs to silence those who dare speak the truth?" I gestured toward the scar on my brow.

Murmurs rippled through the crowd. Some looked shocked, others nodded in quiet agreement. But most still carried fear in their eyes.

"Look at this illusion!" I pointed at the enchanted board again. "They show us a beautiful city, but they don't tell us the cost! They don't tell us that the Whispering Wilds—the sacred forest that has sheltered us, the land our ancestors revered—is being destroyed! They don't tell us that their 'development project' is a catastrophe that will consume us all!"

"Enough, Stonehand!" A sharp voice cut through the growing unrest. The captain of the guards stepped forward, his hand gripping the hilt of his sword. The runes on his armor flared slightly. "You're inciting disorder! Stop this nonsense and leave before you regret it!"

"Regret it?" I scoffed, turning to face him without fear. "Like the regret I should've felt when your master sent his lackeys to attack me in the dark? Did you think that would silence me? That it would make me cower?" I stepped closer, my voice unwavering. "You're afraid. Afraid that the people will see through your lies. Afraid that your cruelty will be exposed."

"Seize him!" the captain barked.

Two soldiers lunged at me—but before they could reach me, Old Borrin, the village blacksmith, stepped forward to block their path. He was quickly joined by four or five others—farmhands, merchants, people who had quietly listened to me before. They had no weapons, only their bodies and the courage that had just been ignited.

"What are you doing to Kaelen?" Old Borrin demanded, his voice wavering slightly but firm. "He's only speaking what many of us already think! Will you arrest a man simply for telling the truth?"

The tension spiked. More villagers began murmuring their agreement. They weren't charging forward, not yet—but the grip of fear was loosening.

The captain's face flushed red with anger. He knew that if he resorted to violence now, things could spiral out of control. But he also couldn't let me continue stirring dissent.

"This is your last warning!" he bellowed, his voice amplified by faint magic. "Step aside! This is a direct order from Lord Thorn! Anyone who disobeys will face severe consequences!"

But Old Borrin and the others didn't move. They exchanged glances, hesitant but determined.

Seeing that threats alone wouldn't work, the captain opted for force. He unsheathed his sword halfway and raised his other hand, chanting a short incantation. A bright white orb of light formed in his palm before he hurled it skyward—where it exploded with a deafening boom and a blinding flash!

BOOM!

Panic seized the crowd. Screams rang out. People scattered in every direction. Even Old Borrin and the others staggered back, momentarily blinded.

"Disperse at once! Go home!" the captain roared. "Anyone who resists will be arrested!"

Thorn's soldiers moved in, pushing people back with their shields, shouting commands, and swiftly dismantling our small uprising. They didn't strike anyone, but they shoved and intimidated until the gathering fell apart in mere moments.

Two guards grabbed my arms and forced me to the ground, but Old Borrin shouted, "Let him go! He's done nothing wrong!" More voices rose in protest from the retreating villagers.

The captain hesitated. He must have realized that escalating this further could turn disastrous. He scowled and signaled his men to release me, but pointed a warning finger at me. "This time, I'll let you go. But mark my words, Stonehand—there will not be a next time."

The soldiers withdrew, maintaining their presence at the edges of the square. The once-bustling market had returned to uneasy silence. Scattered stalls lay overturned. The enchanted noticeboard still stood, its illusionary promises shimmering, oblivious to the turmoil it had caused.

Our protest had been short-lived… and, in immediate terms, a failure. But I knew it hadn't been in vain. A spark had been lit. The people had seen firsthand how power silenced truth. More importantly, they had seen that someone dared to stand up.

Old Borrin placed a firm hand on my shoulder. "You alright, Kaelen?"

"I'm fine, Uncle Borrin," I replied, my breath still slightly ragged. "Thank you… all of you." I looked at the handful of villagers still standing with us. Their eyes no longer held just fear. There was determination. Solidarity.

"This isn't over," Borrin said evenly. "They may have stopped us today, but next time… we won't be so few."

I nodded in full agreement. The flames had been kindled. They might flicker under the storm, but they would not die. I would feed them, tend to them—until they grew into a wildfire strong enough to consume Valerius Thorn's throne of lies to ashes.