A young man, in his mid-twenties, sat alone in his hut. The pressures of feeding his people weighed heavily on his shoulders. He found peace when he stared into the fire. Garett became the leader of the rebels after his father, Spruce, named the Rebel King, was killed leading a raid towards Westercrest, the second largest city in Luition.

  The small bonfire glimmered against his skin, a smooth shade of copper. The night was dark as obsidian. A messenger opened the flap to his tent, he was out of breath. He stretched his arm with a scroll in hand.

  “A raven” Garett snatched it out of his grip. The Blackbird has fled into the night, her wings wide and feathers bright. He balled up the note within his grasp. He scowled, he knew this meant nothing good for their cause. The rebels sent messages in riddles so if intercepted, the reader remained ill-informed. A scroll about a black bird meant a death or a disappearance.

  “Garett, scouts have reported Cobalt nearby, what should we do?” he said, Fear struck Garett’s face, just by the sound of that name. “Cobalt you say, are you sure?” Garett asked. “Yes, I wouldn’t take that lightly, he’s merciless, Word has it he steals people in night. I bet that’s what that scroll is about isn’t it?” the messenger asked, Garett did not speak a word, but his silence served as confirmation. The messenger continued “We need to do something about it.” he commanded, though he maintained respect for his king.

  Garett was still, his lips quivered. He had encountered a battle against Cobalt before, it didn’t end well for him and his father. He wanted revenge, at the same time he knew the horrors he was capable of, for the first time in a while, he was faced with indecision.

  Noises from outside distracted them, he was fearful the enemy struck under the cover of darkness. He marched out of the hut, his trusted advisor at his side.

  His people consisted of humans, Dreys, and Muhrs alike, everyone had a part to play. The humans who followed his cause fell on the lower end of the socioeconomic spectrum. Dreys were typically an enslaved species, but in Newbury, they were free. Muhrs were another disadvantaged group, considered animals in human flesh. Their skin the color of burnt amber. Their hair thick and matted reeked of dirt and fragrant oils.

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  Together, in Newbury, these marginalized groups formed a community. They built homes together, broke bread with one another, however, occasional cultural disagreements arose between them.

  In the distance, a heated argument ensued between a Muhr and a human. Their chests pressed together, they exchanged words aggressively. Garett couldn’t make out their debate. The human shoved first, his push had no effect, his opponent’s hair was his armor. The Muhr wrinkled his brow, he shoved back forcing him to the ground with ease. Garett rushed over to diffuse the fight before chaos emanated.

  He placed himself between them.“We need each other, remember who the real enemy is,” he yelled while looking back and forth between the two of them. A silence intensified the moment. The Muhr clenched his fist, but then walked away, it seemed he had won the fight before it began.

  Garett helped the man to his feet and dusted the dirt off his back. “I don’t trust them” the man whispered in Garett’s ear. “You don’t have to forever, only for now”, he mumbled. Garett was faced with an impossible task. Uniting people who despised one another to fight a greater enemy, but he knew there was no other way.

  “Garett” a voice called out, “we’ve got something,” a messenger asserted. He followed him, the young man led him to a tree where they had restrained a Crimson Guard. His face was badly beaten, full of fresh blood.

  Garett lowered to his eye level, “tell me what you know” Garett commanded. The Crimson Guard shivered, Garett found it fascinating to see one of the mercenaries so vulnerable.

  “If I tell you what I know you’ll let me go?” the Crimson Guard asked, his body trembling. “Depends on if I like what you say. What are you doing out here?” he inquired, his voice soothing.

  “The King sent us to reclaim a stolen artifact, we found the thieves but…” he stopped, he recalled the tragic event. His expression went blank, as if he was in a trance.

  “But what?” Garett asked, trying to refocus the man’s gaze.

  “She killed them, she killed them all. She made them turn on themselves. I didn’t sign up for that ya know.” he bawled, terror filled his face.

  “Who?” Garett growled. “Some girl, she was tiny as a stick, she had white hair like a ghost” he mumbled.

  “You’re telling me a little girl killed a dozen Crimson Guards,” a spectator asked in disbelief. The crowd behind him boomed with laughter.

  “I say we kill him,” the man continued. The crowd roared in agreement. Garett stood before them, a hush fell over the group.

  “No” Garett commanded, “we are better than them”.