The night Beshaar was captured was a night shrouded in uncertainty and terror. He had been on the run for days after killing an Eastern soldier in cold blood—a crime that carried only one punishment: death. His act of defiance had sent shockwaves through the Eastern ranks. Patrols doubled, soldiers searched every corner of the ghetto, and the people of the West lived in fear of another round of bio-chemical rain, as threatened by the Eastern General.
Beshaar's capture came not because he was careless, but because he chose to surrender. The general's threat to unleash the rain again if Beshaar did not turn himself in weighed heavily on him. He could not allow his people to suffer further for his actions. And so, with his head held high and defiance burning in his eyes, he walked into the Eastern camp and gave himself up.
Thrown into Darkness
The prison where Beshaar was confined was a dark, cold fortress—a place designed to crush the spirit as much as the body. Built beneath the capital city, it was a labyrinth of stone walls, iron bars, and endless shadows. Few entered the prison and lived to tell the tale.
Beshaar was thrown into a solitary cell, his hands shackled, his body bruised from the beating he received upon arrival. The air was damp and suffocating, filled with the stench of decay and despair. Rats scurried in the corners, and the only light came from a flickering torch down the hall. The silence was broken only by the distant echoes of screams—other prisoners, perhaps, or the ghosts of those who had died there.
At first, Beshaar allowed himself to feel the weight of his situation. He was alone, trapped, and awaiting execution. But as the hours turned into days, he began to realize that despair would not save him. If he was going to die, he would not go quietly.
The Cunning Plan Begins
One of the guards assigned to watch over Beshaar was a man named Drenak—a low-ranking soldier from the East who despised his position. Drenak was no loyalist. He had been conscripted into the Eastern army and forced to serve a general he loathed. Beshaar noticed this quickly. Unlike the other guards, who took pleasure in taunting him, Drenak was quiet, distant, and reluctant.
Beshaar began to study Drenak. He observed the way the man hesitated when locking his cell, how he flinched at the screams echoing through the halls, and how his eyes lingered on the horizon when he thought no one was watching. This was a man who wanted freedom as much as Beshaar did.
One night, when Drenak brought him his meager meal, Beshaar decided to take a risk.
"You don't belong here," Beshaar said, his voice low and steady.
Drenak froze, then scowled. "Shut your mouth, Westerner, or I'll make sure you regret it."
Beshaar smirked, undeterred. "You hate this place as much as I do. You're not like the others. You're not cruel. You're trapped, just like me."
Drenak slammed the tray onto the floor and leaned close to the bars. "Say one more word, and I'll—"
"You'll what?" Beshaar interrupted. "Kill me? Go ahead. It's what they'll do to me anyway. But if you're smart, you'll listen to what I have to say."
Drenak hesitated. There was something in Beshaar's voice—an edge of confidence, a spark of defiance—that made him pause. Without another word, he turned and walked away.
Planting the Seeds
Over the next few days, Beshaar continued to speak to Drenak whenever he had the chance. He told him stories of the West before the war, painting vivid pictures of freedom, prosperity, and hope. He spoke of the Eastern General's tyranny, of the lives lost, and of the injustice that had been done to both their people.
Drenak listened in silence at first, but Beshaar could see the cracks forming in his resolve. One night, after weeks of quiet manipulation, Drenak finally spoke.
"What are you trying to accomplish?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. "You're going to die, Beshaar. Nothing you say will change that."
Beshaar leaned closer to the bars, his eyes burning with determination. "Maybe I will. But what about you? Do you want to spend the rest of your life serving a man who doesn't care whether you live or die? Do you want your children to grow up under his rule? Or do you want to fight for something better?"
Drenak's jaw tightened. He said nothing, but he didn't walk away either. Beshaar knew he had him.
The Rebellion Forms
Over the next few days, Beshaar began to outline his plan. He spoke of the underground network in the ghettos, the weapons being smuggled in, and the people ready to rise up. He promised Drenak a way out—a chance to escape the Eastern regime and start a new life far from the chaos.
In exchange, Drenak would help him escape and provide information about the Eastern forces. It was a dangerous gamble, but Beshaar knew he had to take it.
At first, Drenak was hesitant. Helping Beshaar meant risking not only his life but the lives of his family. But as Beshaar continued to chip away at his doubts, Drenak began to see the truth in his words. The Eastern regime was not invincible, and if there was even a chance of freedom, it was worth fighting for.
The Night of the Deal
One night, when the prison was at its quietest, Drenak approached Beshaar's cell with a look of determination on his face.
"If I help you," he said, "you have to promise me one thing: my family gets out safely. No matter what."
Beshaar nodded. "You have my word."
Drenak unlocked the cell door, and for the first time in weeks, Beshaar stepped out of his confinement. Together, they began to plan their next move.
Drenak provided Beshaar with a map of the prison and information about the guards' schedules. He smuggled in a small dagger and a piece of paper with instructions for contacting the underground network in the ghettos. Beshaar, in turn, shared his vision for the rebellion, igniting a fire in Drenak that had long been extinguished.
The Beginning of the End
As the day of Beshaar's execution approached, he and Drenak worked tirelessly to ensure everything was in place. The plan was simple but dangerous: during the execution, members of the underground network would launch a coordinated attack on the Eastern forces, using the chaos to free Beshaar and spark a larger rebellion.
The stage was set, and all that remained was to wait. As Beshaar sat in his cell on the final night, he felt a sense of calm. For the first time since the war began, he had hope—not just for himself, but for his people.
The rebellion was coming, and Beshaar was ready to lead it.