The wind carried the stench of smoke and steel long after the battle had ended.
Evelyn stood at the edge of the ridge, her cloak torn, her hands still trembling.
Below, the valley was nothing but ash — a scar on the land and on every soul that survived it.
The rebels were silent, gathering the wounded, burying the fallen.
Every motion was slow, deliberate. The air was thick with exhaustion and disbelief.
Rowan approached her quietly. His armor was cracked, his face streaked with soot.
"He's gone," he said, voice low. "We couldn't find the prince's body. The fire reached the lower ravine—"
Evelyn turned to him sharply. "Then he's not dead."
Rowan frowned. "Evelyn—"
"I said he's not dead!" Her voice broke through the air, fierce and trembling. "Until I see his body, I won't believe it."
Silence followed. Even the wind seemed to pause.
---
Later that night, in the glow of their campfire, Evelyn sat before a map spread across a crate.
Her fingers traced the route of their retreat, the next stronghold, the supply lines they had left behind.
"We were ambushed," she muttered. "Someone warned them."
Rowan leaned against a tree, arms crossed. "You think there's a spy among us?"
"I don't think. I know." She looked up, eyes cold as steel. "Only five people knew the exact timing of our attack — and two of them are dead."
He hesitated. "You're saying… one of our own betrayed us?"
"Yes," she said, folding the map. "And I'll find out who."
---
Before dawn, Evelyn stood before the remaining soldiers — barely fifty left from the hundreds that had followed them.
Their eyes were hollow, but still burning with that fragile, dangerous thing called hope.
"We've lost many," she began, her voice steady despite the ache in her chest. "But loss does not mean defeat. Every fallen comrade, every drop of blood — it means we matter. It means the crown fears us."
She looked toward the rising light.
"If Edward is alive, we will find him. If he's not… then we'll burn their kingdom to ash for taking him from us."
The crowd erupted — not in cheer, but in grim resolve.
---
As the camp began to move, Rowan approached her again. "Evelyn… I know what you're doing. Holding on to hope keeps us alive. But don't lose yourself to it."
She looked at him — tired, but unyielding. "I lost everything else already. Hope is all I have left."
Then she turned away, her shadow stretching long in the morning light.
---
That night, far from the rebel camp, a man awoke in darkness.
Chains rattled. A wound burned across his ribs.
Edward opened his eyes to see a dim torchlight flickering against stone walls.
A figure stood before him — cloaked, smiling faintly.
"Welcome back, Your Highness," the stranger said. "Your people think you're dead. Let's keep it that way for now."
Edward's vision blurred, his strength fading — but even through the haze, he recognized that voice.
It was someone he once trusted.