The sun had long since set behind the edge of its world, and the crimson hue was still faintly left in the western horizon as if swallowed up slowly by the changing night.

  Far below the kingdom of Jargmund and far from the eyes of the tyrant who thirsted for the fullness of his world, Sora sat alone in the underground ruins of an ancient aqueduct that once used the streams of water that flowed there and now only the dry land in his channel is no longer functional.

  Sora was seen sitting on a large stone that was worn out under the cracks of the Jargmund street, above which he looked up at the ceiling where the moonlight shone from its gap like silver ink on the ground. The light shone on his face gently, revealing his red swollen eyes with his body speechless, and his soul was shattered by Feron's previous words.

  Sora's gaze locked upwards looking towards the small circle of peace in the world that had gone crazy through the appearance of the full moon visible in its gap that was so calm and motionless from its position however, Sora's mind spun endlessly thinking about everything after remembering his sword that had been thrown just like that by Feron in disappointment over his previous desire, and Kaelith's sunken eye burden.

  And all of that was more than just all the memories of him during his journey that always remembered Eyla's previous words in his mind more clearly than anything.

  Her inner voice echoed in his memory that was so tender and warm not as a warrior, but as a mother advising her child:

  "Hate does not fix what love can fix. Be kind, even when the world isn't good for you and be a candle in a dark night. Even if the flames are flashing... leave it on."

  Sora had forgotten everything Eyla had said about him and letting his anger take over him as well as let his grudges once again control his sword.

  Sora realizes that he has broken his promise not only to Eyla, but also to himself which has led to his destruction.

  Tears as the greatest evidence of his regret in that place as he silently stared at the night sky and torrents of tears flowed down his cheeks as he lowered his head for a moment, covering his eyes with his hands that made him sobble in the void and regret within him.

  He cried not as a fighter, not as a hero, but as a boy who had lost everything and didn't know how to bear his burden anymore.

  And that's when Lyra finds it that Lyra walks around the underground sewer tunnel area to clear her mind, but stops when she sees Sora sitting quietly in the moonlight.

  Lyra had never seen Sora like this before even in battle. But now? Now Sora is just an ordinary human being like in general. Lyra approached Sora with her steps as soft as the night breeze and when Lyra reached him, slowly sitting beside him, her hand gently rubbed Sora's shoulder.

  "Hey, it's okay... You can overflow it. You don't become weaker because you feel it and you become more human because of it." Lyra said softly and whispered,

  Sora turned her head towards him with her wet cheeks and her body trembling. Without a word, Sora leaned forward and hugged Lyra who was a boy finally releasing all his emotions, burdens, and regrets that had been hidden for so long.

  Lyra froze for a moment, stunned by Sora's sudden embrace and then... Lyra returned the hug gently, to which Lyra wrapped her arms around him and hugged him tightly as well until her fingers slowly stroked his hair, and her voice became softer.

  "It's okay... I don't know why you're so fragile, but I also know how painful it is and what it means to you. I know I can't be him as your successor, but he loves you, doesn't he? Even in his destruction, you have to live for him as well and not just fight. Live until he can see your strengths and weaknesses, Sora!" whispered Lyra, which made Sora's crying even louder, and her words became the medicine for her wounds.

  "I'll be here, for as long as you need. As long as you walk this path."

  Above them, glittering stars one by one fell in the night sky like the tears of the scattered gods.

  The moon is a witness that shines calmly by illuminating the way for those lost in the darkness in that lonely corner of the world, among the heaps of forgotten city bones, and two souls sitting in the night with their arms. One lamented his regrets, and the other listened to him. The flames of hatred began to be extinguished and instead, the candles of hope flickered once again.

  Meanwhile, deep inside the splendor of Jargmund's palace where the dancers' performance had ended and the applause of the audience still echoed in the throne hall, but Goulash sitting in his throne chair was thinking of something else.

  His eyes lit up with lust as he leaned towards his general. "Bring me Kaelith, that one who danced and showed her talent. I want her to be in my room tonight." He whispered with a strange grin.

  But before the general could stand up completely, the woman sitting on Goulash's lap whispered something in his ear.

  "Hmm... Already another girl? Have you forgotten about this skin you touched or how I made you want to play with me, king?" teased the woman who had heard Goulash's words earlier in a voice like poisoned honey.

  Goulash's mind, corrupted by his lust and gluttony, quickly shifted his focus towards the woman sitting on his lap. He laughed and let his fat fingers explore her thighs like a spoiled child distracted by a new toy.

  "Ah, yes, yes... Next time maybe, let her go now. But tomorrow—"

  He pointed at his general firmly, "I want her by my bedside. Did you hear me?"

  The general nodded stiffly before returning to his post that had denieded Goulash's orders. As the general passed through the huge stone pillars after exiting the throne hall, a shadow was seen on the wall.

  Vorlag was there with the king-like aura of a silent ferocious beast leaning with his spear on his shoulder. The general barely glanced at him and continued to walk forward, but Vorlag's cold eyes followed him and spoke in a contemptuous tone.

  "Hmmph... very weak." Vorlag muttered to him that the general pretended not to hear his words, but was heavy enough to feel.

  Meanwhile, Goulash laughed out loud and let his concubine lead him with his fingers to his room. Goulash was excited for that night filled with luxury and other delusions.

  Outside the palace gates, the dancer planner remains a quiet shadow orchestra with its calm, undistracted, and trained dancers following behind it, all wearing the same mask of professional elegance.

  Passing the guards at the front gate, they nodded respectfully, not letting a glimmer of their true purpose escape their expressions.

  Once they were far enough away from the guards' sight, the planner made a quick movement with his quick fingers to give a signal to the others and the dancers immediately separated and scattered down the alleys to the narrow streets taking different routes within the city like threads that disappeared in the darkness of the night.

  Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author's consent. Report any sightings.

  They are now no longer dancers but agents of the current revolutionary forces.

  Each of them knew the path that would lead them to the revolutionary base hidden beneath the city.

  Like a smoke, they sneaked through the cracks of the kingdom and the last dancer made a move with a single long breath and melted into the shadows of the fast-paced underworld.

  Back in the camp, the underground hideout of the revolutionary army buzzed with quiet urgency. Veyla was temporarily in charge of logistics and information gathering standing in the middle of her tent by observing the scattered maps and candlelit troop formations.

  One by one, the dancers arrived inside Veyla's camp where the first dancer entered without knocking, bowed once as a greeting to Veyla, and placed a small sealed scroll on the table.

  Then, the second dancer and the third dancer until so on as the first dancer did that. By the fifth dancer, Veyla already understood that her plan would work because her intel was already here with the information she needed and it was done very cleanly.

  One of the scrolls contains a list of prisoners held over the past five years and the other details the layout of the prison hall. Veyla also noticed the contents of the scroll which marked the routine rotation of the guards patrolling and identified the chief warden's residence to the footnotes about the weaknesses of the guards' patrols.

  And most importantly, one scroll contained the names of current guards who could be bribed or who had families outside the kingdom of Jargmund in distress.

  Veyla's eyes hardened because of her achievable goal by looking at the emergency war map in front of her and sticking her hands to the map.

  "This is the time, this is the beginning of the end." She said to whoever was in her tent right at that moment, a guard stormed into her tent.

  "Commander Veyla, Lyra and Sora requested a meeting with you immediately." He said calmly, and Veyla's reply only nodded once to her guard. The wheels of revolution have turned, and the tyrant of this kingdom will soon be put to the test.

  Sora and Lyra walked side by side calmly and their footsteps echoed slowly through the narrow underground tunnel that led to the central command tent.

  The silence between them is not awkward but heavy to feel like the silence before the storm.

  Each of them brought a thought of what was going to happen and upon reaching the entrance of Veyla's tent, they met two guards who were stationed outside and stood stiff from their vigilance. Lyra stepped forward confidently as usual.

  "We need to talk to Veyla, right now!"

  The guards exchanged glances for a moment before one of them nodded briefly and walked into the tent to inform their commander.

  A tense few minutes passed, and then he reappeared, gesturing for them to enter the tent.

  "You guys are allowed in." Sora and Lyra enter Veyla's tent.

  Inside the tent, Veyla stood hunched over a large emergency map placed on the war table.

  Scrolls, sketches, and diagrams are pinned and scattered on them, most of them inscribed in elegant and crisp handwriting from the dancer's planner and his agent. Candles flickered on the sides of the tent room that cast a shadow over Veyla's furrowed eyebrows.

  As soon as she saw Sora and Lyra enter her tent, Veyla straightened her body and didn't waste her time. "I know what you mean by coming here. But, tonight is the only chance we have to start the prison infiltration plan."

  "The king's party has been going on for a long time and our informant inside earlier said the guards were short of manpower. Half of his troops were drunk and some of them were asleep from the exhaustion that their defensive line circles were unable to return to duty. It's time for us to unleash everything we prepared."

  Veyla started to look at Lyra first. "Lyra, you will be leading the intruder group. Go in and release whoever is our priority to the prison secretly and get rid of the guards, secure the way, and find the main key and the prison. Then find out where they held our leader Silas Verne and also..."

  She glanced at Sora. "... his friends. Free them all secretly, if possible."

  Lyra folded her arms and asked Veyla that. "Who will support us if this situation gets bad?"

  "Douglas will help you if things don't work out." Veyla replied without hesitation and Lyra blinked at her words.

  "Douglas, is that? You're really going to let it go him for tonight?"

  "He's the only one who can fight Vorlag if he shows up. You remember what happened the last time she met him, don't you?" Veyla replied to Lyra's question Sora frowned and he took out his paper and wrote one short question, then handed it to Veyla.

  'Who is that Vorlag?'

  Veyla read Sora's writing given to her, then replied in a serious tone.

  "Vorlag is not a human. He was a monster in human form. There were no runes, and there was no magic as the power was just raw brutality. He could make a battalion destroy by himself. We call him the Flesh and Bones Anomaly who is the king's personal executioner. If he appears... Get out of there and avoid a fight with him as soon as possible or a nightmare will haunt you with his arrival."

  Veyla leaned closer to the table and looked at Lyra. "You understand that, Lyra?"

  Lyra nodded briefly. "Understand."

  Veyla turned to Sora. "And you. You'll go with her. If something goes wrong, we'll need both of your skills to get everyone out of there."

  Sora's eyes met Lyra's for a moment, and he nodded firmly. Veyla gave them one last command.

  "Go and get ready from now on. We attack before the moon reaches its peak."

  They all walked out of the command tent together except for Veyla who still continued to observe the papers scattered on her desk alone, their hearts calm but burning.

  Somewhere behind the weathered stones and walls of the kingdom, their friends waited in chains and tonight, the chains would begin to break.

  The prison was enveloped in a silence so deep and uncomfortable, only the sound of chains clinking as the wind moved it and the faint groans of the inmates whose hopes had long since sunk under blood and darkness.

  Silas sat cross-legged in the dim corner of his cell, initially humming softly a haunting melody that echoed through the stone halls like the whisper of a ghost.

  Then he began to sing, low and firm, a song that was not despair but fire. "Revolution never sleeps... it grows underground... and when the tyrant dreams of his power, the fire will burn him..."

  Namien lay limp beside the bars of his cell with his lips bleeding, his usual pride shattered, and fell silent as Silas sang it. His swollen eyes barely opened, but even he couldn't ignore the song flowing through the stone and steel.

  His fingers twitched, and his breathing was hoarse but he remained silent. Too shattered to laugh, too stubborn to cry. Vael sat with his back against the wall, his hands clenched trembling, and bruises adorned his skin like tattoos.

  Arelan beside him, motionless, and his breathing was short but steady like a large rock that refused to collapse.

  The song continued until a guard's steps interrupted the creepy chorus. The figure of the guard appeared in front of Silas cell by chewing on dried meat and grinning widely.

  He leaned against the bars, tapping him mockingly with the handle of his club.

  "Hey, crazy old man! Still singing that damn song, huh? Revolution? In your dreams only."

  Silas didn't budge, but he chuckled softly and replied to the guard's words. "Don't you feel it? The wind has been changing direction now calmly and slowly... Carved into someone's tombstone. This fortress of yours will be reduced to dust before the sun rises."

  The guard who heard his words began to be confused by Silas's words, and burst out laughing. "Hah! You're really crazy. You'll sing from the rope that will hang you next." Silas just grinned wider.

  Vael, who had been silent for a while, got up slowly from the stone floor. Blood hardened at the corners of his mouth, but his voice was clear and sharp.

  "Where is she?"

  The guard turned around.

  "Where is my friend Kaelith that you guys brought?" Vael asked again as he stepped forward to the iron bars by grasping the iron bars of his cell it shook from its grip and the flames began to blaze behind his red eyes.

  The guard grinned, "Still in the palace. Maybe entertain the king, huh? Or maybe she was already hanging from the tree behind the palace as a show of the king? The Majesty likes such a show especially when they shout for forgiveness."

  Vael slammed his fist into the bars, roaring like a beast, "You'll regret every word you say. I swear by Borreal blood."

  "Oh, I'm so scared and goosebumps to see you like that. Remember my face, Borreal jerk. You'll see your friend again just before your face is hung with her next to you." The guard sneered by stretching out his arms and began to chuckle softly then walked away, his laughter echoing on the cold stone.

  Vael gritted his teeth by gripping the iron bars of his cell until his knuckles were pale with bruises.

  Silas stepped forward into his cell, cracking his neck and twisting his shoulders. "Vael, tell me something. Is tonight the full moon?"

  Vael glanced up through the narrow window above his cell where he could see his pale moonlight breaking through the bars, drenching the floor of the cell with silver. "Yes, why?"

  Silas chuckled, then took a deep breath. "Good. That means the wheels have been spinning from now on and are just biding their time."

  Silas began to stretch his arms and then his neck against the wall of his cell, his voice turning into a buzz again. His eyes flickered with something that had never been clearly visible for days.

  Namien shattered and leaned his back against the wall, his eyes staring at Silas and narrowing with the blood soaking his eyebrows.

  "You're serious about that, aren't you?" asked Namien in a hoarse voice.

  "One hundred percent."

  And for the first time since their chains were closed, the cold air in the prison began to feel thinner. Like waiting to break something hard like a bone and being able to smell the smoke from something that was going to burn and come that.