I sit on my bed. Thinking. Planning.
Everything Aurelia would do against the Eighty. To damage it. To destroy it.
I founded this faction to protect one another. But it's clear I haven't done that.
Zain's words still echo in my head.
Faith without works is nothing.
Faith without works is nothing.
I have worked. After Elena's death, I trained under the Sun Guard. I became this weapon of a man. From 27 to 33, I worked myself to death.
And he says faith without works is nothing?
What does he know about work?
The arrogance of that man.
I will beat him in the fight. I will win. I will kill him. And I will make the Eighty the strongest faction on this ship.
My faith will not be questioned again.
Orion's death will not be in vain. I will avenge him. I didn't have time to properly mourn you, my friend. So Zain's head will be my gift to you.
Rest now.
A loud, hurried knock at the door.
I stand. My ankle still stings—the wound from Edward's ice. I need more time to recover.
I open the door.
A man stands in the hallway. Light leather armor. A staff strapped to his back. His face is seasoned—mid-thirties, long brown hair tied in a bun.
Kregg. One of the first members of the Eighty.
"Rowan." His voice is low. His expression is wrong. "I need to talk to you about something. It's about the Eighty."
"What is it?"
"It's better if we talk inside." He glances down the hall.
I nod. Step aside.
He enters. Sits on the edge of my bed. Everything about him is tense—like he's holding something back. Something heavy.
"Rowan." He doesn't meet my eyes. "How are you handling things? Orion's death. Alexandria's betrayal."
"I'm recovering. You seem tense, Kregg. What's wrong?"
He sits up straighter. His jaw tightens. His eyes narrow—like he's about to say something he's been holding for days.
He meets my gaze.
"The Eighty," he says. "They're planning to overthrow you."
What?
What?
They can't overthrow me. It's impossible.
"Where are the schemers?"
Kregg closes his eyes. "I don't know who they are. I only heard rumors. Whispers."
"How can you be certain? They're just rumors."
"Rumors are the seeds of ideas and opinions, Rowan. You shouldn't underestimate them."
"But how can they betray me?!"
I stand. My golden arms manifest. Light flickers across the walls.
Kregg looks at me with a straight face. "It's because of the recent losses, Rowan. You've lost many men and women. Some injured. Most dead. All because of Zain and his team."
"You don't underst—"
"No, Rowan." He cuts me off. "We've lost severe numbers. All because of four people. Now five, if you include Alexandria. Members are questioning your leadership. Your competency."
"Competency? I've been competent, Kregg. I gathered rookie after rookie. I built this faction. Now they're questioning me?!"
"Rowan. Calm down. This is clearly affecting you."
I listen. I breathe. I force myself to stop.
My own comrades. Planning to overthrow me.
"Call the Eighty, Kregg. I need to talk to them."
He nods. Leaves.
---
Hours later. The sun begins to set. Orange light spills across the ship.
It is said that when the sun sets, Solorus rests. Leaving everyone on their own—except his believers. He protects them even in rest. Like a lion being vigilant even in its most vulnerable state.
I leave my room. Walk to the upper deck.
Each step hollow. Heard.
Each step precise. Not looking weak. Not looking vulnerable.
Right now, I don't know who is my ally. And who is my enemy.
How did my devotion lead to this?
All this war. All this blood.
Yet I feel no regret. I am doing the Sun's work. Protecting his integrity. His pride.
He saved me. He gave me strength. He guided me to vengeance against the men who killed my beloved.
I will not let him down.
One day, Zain will learn the wrath of the Sun.
And I will be the one to bring that wrath.
---
I step onto the deck. The wind blows calmly. The ship moves slowly across the sea—toward the Highlands.
I had almost forgotten the destination.
I look up. A crowd.
My people. My pride.
And now—I barely trust any of them.
Lizardmen. Elves. Humans. All races. All shapes. All sizes.
They all trust me to protect them.
And the traitors are preventing me from doing that.
I will stop them.
"Members of the Eighty."
I raise my voice. Command the silence.
"I called this meeting because there are traitors amongst us. People who think my leadership is weak. My competency decaying like a flower in the snow."
I pause. Let the silence stretch.
"If you were the leader of the Eighty... would you do better? Would you truly be able to lead these people? Know their names? Protect them?"
"Or would you just see them as tools?"
"Leaders of every nation see their people as tools. Soldiers as weapons. Farmers as ploughs. Blacksmiths as mere sources of steel."
"Do they know their pasts? Do they know anything about them?"
"No. They do not."
"Yet you follow me."
"I know your names. Where you're from. Your pasts. Your ambitions."
"The Eighty is a shield. It protects you. Fights beside you. Stays with you."
"I started with one follower. Then twenty. Then fifty. Then eighty."
"Now we are seventy."
"Zain's faction is small—but they are strong. Cunning. They've beaten us. Again. And again."
"Now some of you see me as incompetent."
"I am not."
"I will protect you. I will bring an end to Zain."
"And to the traitors? The backstabbers?"
"I will find you. And you will be judged by the Sun."
"FOR THE EIGHTY HAVE THE GUIDANCE OF THE SUN."
"WE WILL WIN."
"WE WILL BRING AN END TO ZAIN!"
The crowd erupts. Weapons raised. Voices raised. Faith raised.
They cheer. They follow. They are ready.
Zain...
Be ready.
For the deaths of Orion and the others will be avenged.
And you will face the hand of god.