The scream tore out of the trees like something being strangled alive.
A moment later, Kael stumbled out from the brush, hair full of leaves, face streaked with dirt, looking like he'd just lost a fight with the ground—and the ground had enjoyed it.
Selene followed behind him, arms folded, expression cold enough to frost steel.
"I'm warning you one last time," she said, voice sharp as a drawn blade. "Try something like that again, and I won't hold back next time."
Kael said nothing. Just stood there with his head hanging, shoulders slumped, like a beaten dog. A particularly handsome dog, maybe—but still beaten.
"I'm going back," Selene added.
"So early?" Kael snapped upright and grabbed her sleeve. "You said you'd spend the whole day with me."
"I was going to," she shot back, cheeks flushing faintly. "But you keep pulling—pulling those cheap tricks!"
"I won't mess around anymore. I swear."
She glared at him, eyes bright, lips pressed tight. "We had something nice going… and you ruined it."
"Yeah, yeah, my fault, all my fault," Kael said quickly, slipping closer, coaxing, his hand already trying to hook around her arm again.
Inside, though, he couldn't help the thought—Wasn't that more intimate?
Selene's blush deepened, but before she could snap again, she suddenly paused.
"…Wait. Who's that?"
She pointed ahead.
Kael squinted. A slim figure stood on a large rock up the slope, outlined by moonlight.
"…That's Mira."
They hurried forward.
Mira Stonwell turned at the sound of their approach. When she saw them, she blinked, a little surprised.
"Oh. You're here."
Kael and Selene both felt a flicker of awkward heat creep up their faces, but they quickly hopped onto the rock beside her.
"What are you doing out here alone?" Selene asked.
Mira didn't answer right away. Her gaze drifted down the mountain, worry etched across her gentle features.
"…Look down there," she said quietly. "Something feels wrong."
Kael and Selene followed her line of sight.
Below, the heart of Mirekeep burned with light—too much light. Torches and lanterns blazed across the central compound, brighter than usual, restless.
Kael snorted. "Looks like someone's throwing a feast. Probably welcoming that so-called emissary."
Mira shook her head.
"No. After Rovan met the emissary at noon, he shut himself in his study. Hasn't come out since."
Kael frowned. "How do you know that?"
Mira hesitated, just a breath too long.
"I… was supposed to meet him today," she said, still looking down. "He wanted to show me a set of Ward-Scripts his Shreve left him. But when I went this afternoon… they said he'd locked himself inside. Gave orders not to see anyone."
Kael's eyes widened. "That bastard's putting on airs now?"
"No," Mira said softly. "Something's wrong. I waited for a while… and officers kept arriving. One after another. All turned away. None of them looked good."
Selene and Kael exchanged a glance.
They both remembered the officers they'd seen earlier—grim faces, tight jaws.
Selene's brows drew together. "Could it be… the emissary brought bad news? Reinforcements delayed… or worse… never coming?"
The words landed heavy.
Kael's chest tightened. Mira's fingers curled slightly at her sides.
"…That can't be," Mira whispered. "Should we tell Master?"
"No," Kael said quickly. "It's late. No point stirring things up yet. Let's go see for ourselves."
Selene nodded. Mira hesitated, then agreed.
The three of them moved fast, descending the slope.
---
The closer they got to the central compound, the stranger it felt.
The great garden before the residence blazed like midday under torchlight. Groups of officers clustered near the entrance, talking in low, tense voices. No one laughed. No one relaxed.
Something was wrong.
Very wrong.
As Kael and the others approached, a sudden shout broke the uneasy murmur.
"Let me in! If we keep waiting, this will turn into a disaster!"
A burly officer charged toward the gate, beard thick, a crude iron whip hanging at his waist.
Kael recognized him instantly—the same man who'd tried to arrest him before.
The guards moved fast, blocking his path.
"General Corwin, calm yourself," one of them said. "The Lord has given strict orders—no visitors today."
Corwin tried to force his way through, muscles straining, but the guards held firm.
Frustrated, he turned and shouted toward another officer nearby.
"Commander Cray! You know how bad things are—tell these idiots to move!"
Commander Cray gave a bitter smile.
"Even if you get in, what then? General Kessler forced his way in this afternoon. What did it change?"
Corwin slammed his arm down. "If Kessler couldn't talk sense into him, I will!"
"Stop this nonsense!" Cray snapped. "With your temper, you'll be executed the moment you step inside!"
"Then so be it!" Corwin roared. "If this drags on, we're dead anyway!"
He spun toward the gathered officers, voice booming.
"Listen to me! The corrupted hordes are getting worse by the day! This morning, another village was slaughtered—wiped clean! Mirekeep is on the brink, and what does our Lord do? Orders a full withdrawal of defenses! The whole city's in panic—and he locks himself inside, drinking! What kind of madness is this?!"
The words hit like a hammer.
Kael froze.
Selene's eyes sharpened.
Mira went pale.
"Watch your mouth!" Commander Cray barked, hand slamming onto his sword hilt.
"That's what General Kessler told me!" Corwin shot back, fearless. "He saw it himself—Rovan's been drinking nonstop, drunk out of his mind!"
A ripple spread through the officers. Whispered curses. Disbelief. Fear.
"What the hell is going on…?"
"We spent weeks setting those defenses…"
"They're pulling down the siege engines—cart by cart…"
"The emissary arrived today—does that mean reinforcements are here?"
"If they are, why withdraw first?! What if the enemy attacks now?"
"Don't even say it… gods, don't let anything happen tonight…"
The tension snapped.
Commander Cray's face darkened. "Seize him. He's spreading panic. The Lord will deal with him personally."
Soldiers surged forward, grabbing Corwin, stripping the iron whip from his waist.
Corwin didn't resist.
He just kept shouting.
"Wake him up! All of you—think of something! If the enemy strikes now, Mirekeep will drown in blood!"
"At a time like this… he orders a full withdrawal?" Kael muttered. "Has Rovan lost his damn mind?"
"There has to be a reason," Mira said, though her voice trembled.
Selene nodded slowly. "He's not a fool. We should hear it from him directly."
Kael cracked his knuckles. "Good. Let's go see what kind of madness he's brewing."
Mira glanced at the heavily guarded gate. "…We're not getting in through there."
"Then we don't," Kael said.
They slipped away from the front, circling the outer wall until they found a quiet stretch, shadowed and unguarded.
Without a word, all three activated the Ground-Sprint Art, their bodies lightening as they vaulted over the wall and dropped silently into the garden beyond.
---
Inside, the estate sprawled wide—buildings scattered among trees and water.
Kael frowned. "Great. Now where?"
"Follow me," Mira said.
He blinked. "You know where his study is?"
She glanced at him, calm but distant. "I've been there before. He showed me his collection of Ward-Scripts."
Kael felt something twist sharply in his chest.
That sly bastard…
Knows she likes Ward-Scripts, so he uses that to lure her in?
Jealousy burned, quick and ugly.
He shoved it down and followed.
---
The study stood by the water, a small pavilion facing a lotus pond. Banana leaves framed it on both sides, rustling softly in the night breeze.
Peaceful.
Too peaceful.
"There," Selene whispered. "Guards."
A few figures lingered nearby, watchful.
"Don't alert them," Mira said. "We go through the window."
A southern window stood slightly open, faint lamplight spilling out.
With a subtle shift of movement and breath, the three slipped inside like ghosts.
---
The smell hit them first.
Heavy. Bitter.
Wine.
The room was elegant—bookshelves of dark wood lined the walls, a display cabinet filled with curios, a fine desk at the center. Paintings and calligraphy hung with taste and restraint.
And beyond a folding screen painted with sweeping landscapes—
Chaos.
Jars lay scattered across the floor, some shattered, others tipped over, wine soaking into the wood.
At the far side, slumped over a table near the water-facing window—
Rovan Ashford.
A jug dangled loosely from his hand, empty.
Kael's expression darkened instantly.
"…Unbelievable."
He strode forward, grabbed Rovan by the collar, and hauled him upright.
"You idiot!" Kael barked. "The enemy's at the gates and you're getting drunk?!"
Rovan stirred, eyes bloodshot, unfocused.
"Get out…" he slurred. "Who dares—"
"Dares?" Kael's temper snapped. "You little—"
His fist came up.
"Don't!" Mira rushed forward, catching his arm.
Selene stepped in too. "Ask first!"
Kael glared. "Look at him! What's there to ask?"
"I'll do it," Selene said.
She turned, hands on her hips, every inch the senior soror now.
"Rovan!" she snapped. "The corrupted horde could attack at any moment. Instead of commanding your forces, you're here drinking—and you ordered the entire city to withdraw its defenses. Explain yourself!"
Rovan blinked.
Recognition flickered.
"…You," he said, a crooked grin spreading across his face.
Then suddenly—
He shoved Selene aside and grabbed Kael instead.
"Good! You're here!" he laughed hoarsely. "Perfect timing! Let's drink! Let's see who can hold their liquor this time!"
Kael stared at him.
"…You're serious?"
Rovan bent, snatched up another jar from the floor, and thrust it forward.
"First one down loses!"
"That's what you care about right now?!" Kael snapped.
"Afraid?" Rovan sneered, eyes glinting with drunken challenge.
That did it.
Kael grabbed a jar from the desk.
"Afraid? I'll drink you under the table."
Selene's face went red with anger. "Are you brainless?! He's baiting you!"
Mira stepped between them, firm despite her usual softness. "No one is drinking. Not another drop."
Kael hesitated.
Even he felt it—the rare edge in her voice.
But Rovan—
"Move," he snarled.
Mira blinked. "It's me—"
"Doesn't matter," he cut her off harshly. "When men drink, women get out of the way."
The words landed like a slap.
Mira froze.
"I said move," he repeated, breath reeking of wine. "Don't stand there and get in the way."
Something in her eyes broke.
Kael's grip tightened around the jar.
"Fine," he muttered—and took a long swig.
"Good!" Rovan laughed, lifting his own.
"First one down's a coward!"
Mira's eyes reddened instantly.
She turned and walked away.
Rovan's arm shot out, grabbing her wrist.
"Let go," she said, voice cold.
He hesitated.
For a moment, clarity flickered through the haze in his eyes.
"…Mira…"
She didn't look at him. "Let go."
He stared at her like he was seeing her for the first time.
She twisted her wrist free.
Silence fell.
"…Sorry," Rovan said suddenly.
The word hung in the air.
Mira stopped.
And the room went still.
Kael's eyes burned.
Not the easy heat of drink, not the swaggering blaze he wore like a mask—this was something sharper, uglier. It fixed on Rovan's hand, still clamped around Mira's slender wrist like a man clinging to the edge of a cliff.
For a long moment, no one moved.
Then Mira spoke, soft but steady, though her lip trembled faintly. "What happened?"
Rovan swallowed. The motion dragged slow, like his throat was packed with sand.
"Mirekeep's finished."
The words dropped into the room like a stone into a well. No echo came back.
Selene's brows drew tight, her voice cutting through the silence. "No reinforcements from the capital?"
Rovan let go of Mira at last. His arm fell, heavy as iron. He tipped his head back, staring up at the beams overhead, and breathed out a long, hollow sigh.
Mira stepped forward, her voice calm despite the tension in her shoulders. "Even without reinforcements, it doesn't mean the city falls. You still have over ten thousand of the Iron Maw Legion here. They're not ordinary troops. And now they've got fresh Wards, and the siege engines Shreve rushed to finish—those can hold a line. You could still stall the demon tide."
Selene added quietly, "And there are wanderers answering the call. Dawnbreaker Hold sent three hundred Demon-Breakers. That's not nothing."
Rovan laughed.
It wasn't loud. It wasn't even bitter.
It was empty.
"No," he said. "You don't understand. There are no reinforcements. And there's no Iron Maw Legion either."
The three of them stared.
"The imperial emissary brought a decree." His voice dragged, each word scraped raw. "By order of Emperor Corvyn… every soldier of the Iron Maw Legion is to be handed over. Full withdrawal from the Dread Mire. Two days."
The room went dead.
Kael shot to his feet, fury flaring hot and fast. "What?"
His voice cracked like a whip.
"No reinforcements—and he pulls your entire force?" Kael barked. "That bastard's gutting you!"
Rovan didn't even nod. He looked too tired for that.
"Is there some mistake?" Mira said, frowning, forcing herself to think. "Maybe the capital doesn't know how bad it is here. Maybe the report—"
"I wrote it myself," Rovan cut in. "Every detail. Every corpse. Every breach. They know."
Selene's expression hardened, something cold and sharp settling behind her eyes. "Then why now? The Iron Maw Legion's been stationed here for years. Why pull them at the brink?"
Rovan's lips twitched. "Because the Empire's launching a campaign in Driftmarch. Lord Nangrave's rebellion. They're short on troops in the central provinces. So they're taking mine."
Kael stared at him like he hadn't heard right.
"For a rebellion?" he said, incredulous. "They're stripping Mirekeep—leaving it to rot—for a human rebellion?"
His voice rose, anger spilling out raw and unfiltered. "Out there, it's monsters tearing people apart. Here it's a slaughter waiting to happen. And they choose to chase rebels instead?"
He spat to the side. "That emperor's a damned idiot."
"Careful," Selene snapped instinctively, though her own voice carried a tremor of disbelief.
Rovan just lifted the wine jar and drank.
Kael followed suit, rage boiling in his gut. The liquor burned, but it wasn't enough.
"Don't," Selene said sharply. "This isn't the time to drown in wine. We need to think."
"Think?" Rovan slammed the jar down, liquid sloshing over his sleeve. "Think what? Even with the Legion, holding back the demon horde was uncertain. Now they're gone." He laughed again, harsher this time. "What exactly am I supposed to defend this city with?"
Kael leaned forward, eyes sharp. "You're the governor here. The highest authority in the Mire. If you refuse—if you don't give the order—the Legion doesn't move."
Rovan looked at him.
Really looked.
"You're telling me," he said slowly, "to defy an imperial decree?"
Kael didn't hesitate. "Yes."
Selene snapped, "Kael—!"
But he didn't even glance at her.
"For Mirekeep. For the people here." His voice dropped, hard as iron. "You refuse. What's the worst they can do?"
Rovan smiled.
It was a strange smile. Thin. Distant.
"Nothing much," he said lightly. "Just wipe out my entire clan. Maybe extend it to nine generations, if they're feeling thorough."
Kael's mouth opened.
Closed.
"…That serious?"
Selene shot him a look of pure exasperation. "What did you think? Defying a troop withdrawal order is treason. Not some tavern brawl. Entire bloodlines vanish for less."
Kael stood there, stunned.
Then the weight of it settled in.
"So that's it?" he said after a moment, quieter now. "You just… let it happen? Stand here and watch this city get butchered?"
No one answered.
But all four of them saw it.
The memory rose unbidden—the day they'd flown over the ruined outskirts, the bodies strewn like broken dolls, the air thick with rot and screams that no longer had voices.
Kael's face went pale.
He grabbed the jar and drank hard.
Rovan drank harder.
The room filled with the sound of swallowing and nothing else.
Rovan choked suddenly, coughing as wine went down the wrong way. Mira stepped in at once, her hand gentle on his back, patting lightly.
"Don't rush," she murmured. "We'll find another way."
She said it softly.
But even she didn't believe it.
"Another way?" Rovan slammed the jar onto the table. The crack echoed. "What way? Tell me! I'm the governor of this mire—and I can't even protect it!"
His voice broke.
"I can't protect it…"
Silence swallowed the room.
"My family held this land for three generations," he went on, quieter now, the words scraping out. "Marquis after marquis. And now—under me—it falls."
He lifted his head.
Tears streaked his face.
"Mirekeep… the people here… tens of thousands of lives…" His voice trembled, then shattered. "All lost because of me."
No one spoke.
Even Kael, who never knew when to shut his mouth, stood there wordless.
Something shifted in him as he looked at Rovan.
The man had always been loud, brash, unyielding—a wall of iron and laughter.
Now he looked… broken.
Kael scratched the back of his neck, uneasy.
Damn it, he thought. This bastard's always had eyes for Mira… but…
He exhaled slowly.
…he's not rotten.
Mira stepped closer, her voice gentle but firm. "This isn't your fault. It's the Emperor's doing."
Rovan glanced at her, something soft flickering in his eyes. Then it vanished.
"You should leave tomorrow," he said. "Go with the Legion when they withdraw. If you stay any longer, you won't get out."
Mira stilled. "What about you?"
"I'm staying."
Her breath hitched. "You're… staying?"
"I'm the governor of this place," Rovan said simply. "If the city stands, I stand with it. If it falls…"
He didn't finish.
He didn't need to.
Kael's blood surged.
"I'm not leaving either."
Rovan turned to him. "Oh?"
Kael grinned, a fierce, reckless thing. "Last time we fought, there wasn't a clear winner. You think I'm walking away before settling that?"
Rovan stared at him.
Then, slowly, something lit in his eyes.
"Once you stay," he said, "you might never leave."
Kael snorted. "Then I don't leave. You think you're the only one with guts? If you can stand here, so can I."
He jabbed a thumb at himself. "No Legion? Fine. We'll still smash those monsters into the dirt."
Rovan laughed.
This time, it wasn't empty.
"Good," he said, and slapped his palm out.
Kael met it with a crack.
"Then we drink," Rovan declared. "This room's full of fine stock—aged over a decade. Tonight, we empty it."
Kael grinned. "Now you're talking."
They lifted the jars and drank.
Deep.
Hard.
Like men trying to drown something that wouldn't die.
Selene and Mira stood off to the side, watching. Neither moved to stop them this time.
At some point, both women's eyes grew wet.
The jars ran dry.
Rovan wiped his mouth with his sleeve. "Don't move," he said to Kael. "I'll get more."
He pushed himself up—
—and nearly went down.
His step faltered, body swaying. Selene and Mira lunged in, catching him before he hit the floor.
Rovan laughed weakly, leaning into Mira just a little too long. Then he dipped his head close to her ear, voice low.
"Can't walk," he murmured. "Help me find more?"
Mira bit her lip.
She held his gaze for a heartbeat.
Then nodded.
She moved quickly, finding two more jars tucked in a corner. When she returned, she held them out.
"After these," she said softly, "no more. Alright?"
Rovan looked at her.
Something in his eyes softened.
"…As you command."
Mira turned to Kael. "And you?"
Kael blinked. He was already drunk enough that the room had begun to tilt—but when Mira looked at him like that, something warm twisted in his chest.
"Whatever you say," he blurted.
A faint smile touched her lips.
She handed them the jars.
They drank again.
And this time, the words came loose with the wine.
"That emperor's a damned fraud," Kael slurred. "Calls himself ruler of the world? He's just another tyrant."
"Reincarnation of some old butcher," Rovan agreed, thumping the table. "Cruel, stupid, rotten to the core."
"World's gone mad letting someone like that sit on the throne," Kael muttered.
"Mad?" Rovan barked. "It's been mad for generations. One tyrant after another."
Kael snorted. "Heaven must be blind to let it happen."
Rovan slammed his hand down. "Blind? It's worse than blind. It's rotten!"
Kael drank again, then groaned as his stomach churned.
Selene stepped forward instinctively, then stopped herself.
Mira didn't.
She slipped her hand into Kael's, her touch soft, grounding. "You alright?" she asked quietly. "If it's too much—"
Kael forced a grin. "I'm fine." He waved her off. "I could drink ten more of these."
Selene turned her face away, hiding something in her expression.
Rovan leaned back, staring at nothing. "Why?" he murmured. "Why does it have to be like this?"
His voice cracked again.
The others fell silent, the weight pressing down on all of them.
Kael slammed his jar onto the table, anger boiling over.
"To hell with heaven," he snapped. "If the ones above won't care, then we'll make them care."
He leaned forward, eyes blazing.
"Let it all burn. Emperor, heaven, whoever's sitting up there pulling strings—if they're this rotten, we tear them down."
The words came out wild.
Drunk.
Reckless.
"Rebel if we have to," he went on, voice rising. "Against the emperor, against the sky itself. What's the difference?"
Rovan froze.
The room went still.
No one noticed at first.
Kael was still ranting, riding the surge of drink and fury.
But Rovan—
Rovan had gone utterly motionless.
The words echoed in his mind.
Rebel.
Again.
Rebel.
Like thunder rolling across a dark sky.
"Hey," Kael said, frowning. "Why'd you stop drinking?"
Selene and Mira exchanged a glance, then looked at Rovan.
Something was… wrong.
He stood there, jar in hand, staring at the pale light creeping through the window.
Like a statue.
"Rovan?" Mira waved a hand in front of his face. "Are you alright?"
No response.
"Are you going to be sick?" Selene asked, her voice tight.
Nothing.
Kael scowled, stepping closer. "What's with you? Can't handle it? Then admit you lost."
Rovan blinked.
Slowly.
Like a man waking from a long dream.
He set the jar down.
Straightened.
His movements were steady.
Clear.
Gone was the haze of drink. Gone was the staggering grief.
What remained was something else.
Cold.
Hard.
Resolved.
He adjusted his clothes, pulling them straight despite the wine soaking through the fabric.
Then—
he bowed.
Deeply.
To Kael.
"Thank you," he said.
Kael stared at him. "For what?"
"For the lesson."
Rovan's voice rang clear, every word sharp.
"Tonight's drink ends here. This awakening—I will repay it another day."
Selene and Mira gaped.
Kael scratched his head, utterly lost. "What are you—"
Rovan didn't answer.
He turned.
His gaze fixed on the folding screen in the corner—the painted landscape stretching across it, mountains and rivers carved in ink.
He looked at it like a man looking at the world.
And deciding its fate.
"If the sky itself is unjust…" he said slowly, voice low but carrying.
"…then we tear it down."
He paused.
Then spoke, each word like a hammer strike.
"If heaven shows no mercy—"
His eyes burned.
"—then we rebel against heaven."