The weight of the failure hung over the rebellion like a storm cloud. The air in the back room of the tavern was thick with tension, the faces of the rebels etched with frustration and grief. Some stared down at the table in silence, while others muttered angrily, their voices sharp with blame.
Nyra sat quietly, her arms folded across her chest, watching the fractured group from her corner of the room. The aftermath of the failed raid had left them splintered—each faction pointing fingers, searching for someone to blame. They had lost people, good people, and the weight of those deaths sat heavy on everyone's shoulders.
"I told you this would happen," Myk growled, slamming his fist onto the table. His large frame loomed over the others, his frustration palpable. "We're too cautious! We should've hit harder, taken the convoy down before they could react. We need to fight, not sit here licking our wounds"
"Fight with what?" Lyra's voice cut through the room, her calm exterior masking her frustration. "We're not ready for a full-scale assault, Myk. Charging in like a pack of angry dogs is what got us killed in the first place."
The room fell silent, tension thickening as Lyra and Myk locked eyes. It wasn't the first time they had clashed—Myk's fire and passion often ran headlong into Lyra's cold, calculated strategies. But now, after the failed raid, the cracks in their unity were more visible than ever.
Nyra listened to them argue, her mind racing. The raid had been a disaster. Captain Idris had crushed them with ease, and it had cost them not just fighters, but morale. The Empire had proven its strength, and now the rebels were left to pick up the pieces.
But something inside Nyra was shifting. As she watched the two factions tear into each other, she realized that they were both right—and wrong. Myk's fire was necessary, but so was Lyra's caution. What they needed wasn't more of either—it was balance. Strategy and boldness. Precision and strength.
They needed a new plan.
Nyra took a breath and stood, her legs steady despite the tension twisting in her stomach. "We need to stop fighting each other," she said, her voice cutting through the rising noise. The eyes in the room turned toward her, some surprised, others skeptical. She wasn't part of the inner circle yet—not fully. But that was about to change.
"What we're doing isn't working," Nyra continued, stepping forward, her pulse quickening as the weight of their attention settled on her. "But the answer isn't to fight blindly, and it isn't to sit here and wait for the Empire to crush us. We need to strike back, but we need to be smarter about it."
Lyra raised an eyebrow, her expression unreadable. "And what do you propose, Nyra? Another raid? We can't afford another disaster."
"No," Nyra said firmly. "No more raids. At least, not like that. We can't win a direct fight with the Empire right now. But that doesn't mean we can't hurt them."
Myk leaned back in his chair, his arms crossed over his broad chest. "And how exactly do you plan on doing that?"
Nyra's gaze swept across the room, her heart pounding as she took a deep breath. "We hit them where they least expect it. Small, precise strikes. Sabotage. We can't win a full battle, but we can weaken them. Disrupt their supply lines, free our people from their prisons, and make sure they feel us every step of the way."
A murmur ran through the room, the rebels exchanging glances. It was a different strategy, one they hadn't considered. And though some were skeptical, others—especially those who had fought with Nyra during the raid—were beginning to see her as more than just a fighter. She was thinking tactically, strategically, in a way that made sense.
Lyra leaned forward, her sharp eyes studying Nyra. "You think sabotage will change anything? The Empire has more resources than we can even count."
"We're not trying to bring them down in one move," Nyra replied, her voice steady. "We're trying to weaken them, to slow them down. And we can. They won't see it coming because they don't think we can fight back this way. But if we do it right, if we're careful, we can chip away at their control. Make them afraid of us."
The room was silent for a moment. Then, slowly, Lyra nodded. "It's a start."
Myk grinned, his eyes gleaming with approval. "Now that's more like it."
With the rebels finally on the same page, the room came alive with conversation. They began discussing the details of the plan, their voices overlapping as they tossed out ideas and strategies. Nyra listened, her mind racing as she tried to piece together the next steps.
"We need a target," Tyrn said quietly from his corner of the room, his voice low but steady. The tracker had been one of the few to escape the raid with his life, and his silence had spoken volumes since. Now, though, his sharp gaze focused on Nyra, waiting for her to respond.
Nyra thought for a moment, her mind sifting through the options. They couldn't afford another high-profile attack like the failed raid, but they needed a win—something that would boost morale and remind the rebels that they weren't powerless. Something that would hurt the Empire without drawing too much attention.
"There's an Imperial supply route that runs through the outskirts of the city," Nyra said, her voice thoughtful. "They use it to move food and weapons to the garrisons near the northern borders. It's not heavily guarded, but it's important. If we hit it, we'll disrupt their flow of supplies."
Tyrn nodded, his expression approving. "It's a good target. We can get in and out without too much trouble, if we move fast."
Lyra raised an eyebrow. "And what do we gain from this? Sabotage is one thing, but we need resources. We need weapons."
Nyra met her gaze. "Then we take them. We don't just sabotage the supply route—we steal what we need. Food, weapons, anything that can help us. It's a double hit: we hurt them, and we strengthen ourselves."
Myk grinned, his eyes gleaming. "I like it."
Lyra nodded slowly. "It's risky. But it could work."
The room fell silent again as the rebels considered the plan. Finally, Lyra looked at Nyra, her gaze sharp. "You're leading this mission. If it fails, it's on you."
Nyra's chest tightened, the weight of leadership settling on her shoulders. But she didn't flinch. She had trained for this. She was ready.
"I'll get it done," she said firmly.