Dawn came painted in gray and scarlet as The Tempest's Grace glided into a hidden cove surrounded by cliffs. Ivy crawled over broken walls and rusted cannons — the remains of an old fortress reclaimed by the sea.
"This is it," Captain Rowan said. "The Outpost of Thorns. Built by those who refused to kneel."
Evelyn studied the ruins, her heart uneasy. "Refused to kneel… or refused to die?"
Rowan's gaze darkened. "Often, the two are the same."
Edward stepped forward, his posture regal despite the dirt and bruises. "You said there are others here — others like us."
Rowan nodded. "A handful. Mercenaries, deserters, spies. Not saints — but loyal to freedom, not crowns."
Inside the fortress, the halls were lit by oil lamps and the low hum of voices.
Men and women gathered around long tables — soldiers in mismatched armor, sailors, and wanderers who had once fought for nations that forgot them.
When Rowan entered, they rose in silence.
"This is Prince Edward of Harrow," Rowan announced. "And Evelyn Grey — daughter of the fallen commander. They seek justice, same as us."
Murmurs rippled through the crowd. Some looked inspired. Others wary.
A scarred soldier spat into the fire. "Justice?" he growled. "Justice died with the war."
Evelyn stepped forward. "Then maybe it's time to bring it back to life."
The room fell silent.
Her voice was steady — not royal, not commanding, but human.
"My father died believing honor still meant something. I won't let his name, or this land, be buried under corruption and silence. If you still believe in anything worth fighting for… then fight with us."
For a moment, no one moved. Then a few nodded. Then more.
The spark caught.
Later that night, as plans took shape, Edward stood alone on the battlements, looking out over the sea.
Evelyn found him there. "You spoke like a prince again today," she teased softly.
He smiled. "I didn't mean to."
"You never do."
They stood side by side, wind whipping through their cloaks. The fortress below buzzed with life again — laughter, footsteps, the sound of purpose returning.
Evelyn looked at him. "Do you think we can really win?"
Edward's eyes reflected the moonlight — sharp, unwavering. "I think we already have. Because we stopped running."
She turned toward him then, her voice barely a whisper. "Then promise me something."
"Anything."
"No matter what happens… don't let them take your light."
He reached for her hand, fingers brushing hers like a vow. "Not while you're here to remind me who I am."