The road from Dreshelm stretched long and dry.
Where once mist and memory clung to their steps, now only dust followed. The wind was sharp. The silence they carried heavier.
They were no longer travelers.
Not truly.
They were messengers now—though none of them could say for sure what the message was.
But something stirred ahead.
Not fate.
Not destiny.
But fire.
---
The Rebellion Camp
By sundown, they saw it: smoke from a thousand small fires, clustered in the valley below.
A rebel camp.
Sprawling, armored in desperation. Makeshift tents, stolen banners, rusted spears.
Men, women, even children with hollow eyes.
Frido slowed as they approached the ridge.
Teren crouched beside him. "Scouts will see us if we go further."
Frido didn't speak.
Because he had seen the symbol on their banners:
A sun split in half.
The emblem of the Second Flame—a rebellion known not for justice… but for vengeance.
And they had begun burning villages that didn't join them.
---
The Choice
Mirea stood beside him. "What now?"
Frido didn't answer right away.
Because this was the moment he had feared would come.
To act meant taking sides.
To stay silent meant allowing injustice.
He whispered, "They'll sack Westwater next. That's a peaceful town. No walls."
Teren nodded. "Then we warn the town."
But Frido said softly, "They won't listen. Westwater doesn't believe in war."
"Then we fight?" Teren asked, hand on his sword.
Frido looked at the stone in his palm. It glowed faintly.
Then… stopped.
No guidance.
Just him.
---
The Rebel Envoy
Before they could decide, a group of three figures approached from the rebel camp—unarmed, cloaks drawn.
Envoys.
The lead was a woman, eyes cold as steel.
"You're Frido," she said without a question.
He tensed. "How do you know my name?"
"It's been spoken in whispers. Across towns, on walls, in dreams."
She held out a scroll.
"We want you to join us."
Mirea stepped between them. "You burn villages."
The woman didn't blink. "We burn those who remain loyal to tyrants."
Frido took the scroll but didn't open it.
"You think silence is weakness," the woman said. "But it's power. We offer you a voice to burn down thrones."
He looked at her.
And whispered, "And who speaks for the burned?"
---
The Council Among Three
That night, they camped far from the rebel firelight.
Frido finally opened the scroll.
Inside were names.
Hundreds.
Each name marked for death.
All non-combatants.
Priests, scribes, peacekeepers.
Teren paced. "We end this. We sneak in, cut the commanders, break their backbone."
Mirea shook her head. "That's not what he wants."
Teren spat. "And what does he want?"
Frido finally spoke, his voice hoarse.
"I want a third path. Not their war. Not their peace."
Mirea stepped close. "Then we must create it."
---
Smoke Signals
Before dawn, Frido climbed the highest hill near the rebel camp.
Alone.
He built a small fire.
And let the smoke rise—thick and black, a signal used only in ancient times: a call for parley without steel.
Teren cursed below. "He's going to get himself killed."
But Mirea watched the smoke rise, her hand pressed to her chest.
Because only she understood:
Frido wasn't trying to stop the war.
He was offering himself to contain it.
---
The Commander Comes
An hour later, the rebel leader came.
She brought no weapon. Only silence.
She climbed the hill, stood before him, and said, "You asked for a voice. Speak."
Frido looked at her—not with defiance, not with fear—but with the kind of calm that frightened those who fed on chaos.
"I offer myself."
She frowned. "For what?"
"To take their place," he said, holding up the scroll. "The priests. The peacekeepers. Let them live."
The woman studied him.
"You'd die for them?"
"No," Frido whispered. "I'd live with the burden of knowing I didn't."
---
The Flame Shifts
Back at camp, hours later, the rebellion stirred.
The commander didn't give the kill order that night.
She didn't say why.
She only burned the scroll—name by name—until the fire was ash.
And her lieutenants watched, confused.
Mirea and Teren waited with Frido on the ridge.
"Did it work?" Teren asked.
Frido watched the black smoke rise.
"No," he said. "But it changed something."
Mirea stood beside him. "You didn't stop the war."
"No," Frido replied. "I just reminded them what peace looks like."
---
What Mirea Wrote
Later that night, Mirea returned to her letter.
She added a single line at the end:
> "You offered silence. And in it, the world heard itself again."
She folded the paper.
And decided this time… maybe she'd give it to him.
Soon.
Not today.
But soon.
---
End of Chapter 34