He raised his head, his battle-scarred face etched with absolute, unbreakable loyalty.
"The day that slave flag touches the sky," Kael swore, his eyes burning, "the Vanguard Southern Division will rise from the earth and burn this capital to the ground for you."
Heena offered him a faint, genuinely warm smile. "I know you will, Kael. Now go. Before the Prime Minister's spies notice the troop movements."
Kael bowed one last time, rose to his feet, and slipped out of the room as silently as a ghost.
The heavy oak doors clicked shut. Heena let out a long, shuddering sigh, rubbing her temples where a dull, rhythmic ache was beginning to pulse again.
"That was incredibly dramatic," Heena muttered to the empty room. "I should have written a script."
