Renna sat on a wooden crate near the edge of the Freeborn camp, her fingers absently tracing the edges of her rune. The sigil still pulsed faintly, a ghost of the power that had once chained her to the Emperor's will. The weight of Dain's words still lingered in her mind.
The Iron Council is trying to reignite the runes.
If they succeeded, they wouldn't just be hunting down remnants of the past—they would be forging a new army of Runebound warriors. Slaves bound in magic, forced to kill, to obey, to die.
She had barely escaped that fate. She wouldn't go back.
The sound of approaching footsteps pulled her from her thoughts. She didn't move, but her fingers tightened slightly around the hilt of her dagger.
Kieran dropped down beside her, stretching their legs out with an exaggerated sigh. "You look like you're about to stab something."
Renna exhaled sharply. "Maybe I am."
Kieran smirked. "Good. You'll fit right in."
Renna glanced at them. "You're awfully relaxed for someone fighting a war."
Kieran shrugged. "We all have our ways of dealing with things. Some fight. Some drink. Some make terrible life choices." They nodded toward her. "And some sit in the dark, brooding."
Renna shook her head but said nothing. She wasn't used to this. Talking. Not as an equal, not without an order to follow.
Kieran studied her. "You don't trust us."
Renna scoffed. "Should I?"
Kieran leaned back, resting on their elbows. "You're right to be cautious. We're not saints. We fight dirty. We kill when we have to. But we're fighting for something real."
Renna hesitated. "And what is that?"
Kieran's expression darkened. "Choice. The right to live without someone else deciding it for us."
Renna looked down at her rune again.
Choice.
She had spent her whole life without it.
Before she could respond, a shout echoed through the camp.
"Scouts incoming!"
Both she and Kieran were on their feet in an instant. Around them, rebels were already moving, grabbing weapons and extinguishing torches to plunge the camp into darkness.
Dain emerged from his tent, his expression unreadable. "Positions."
Renna's pulse quickened. Who was coming?
Then she saw them.
Three figures moving through the treeline, dressed in dark traveling leathers. Their faces were obscured by hoods, but the way they moved—controlled, precise—sent a chill down Renna's spine.
These weren't simple scouts.
These were messengers of the Iron Council.
The three figures stopped just beyond the firelight, their leader stepping forward. When they pulled back their hood, Renna felt the breath in her lungs freeze.
Captain Rhyos.
A former commander of the Runebound Legion. A man she had once fought alongside.
His piercing gray eyes swept the gathered rebels before landing on Dain. "Varros." His voice was smooth, almost amused. "It's been a long time."
Dain didn't move. "Not long enough."
Rhyos smiled faintly. "You know why I'm here." His gaze flicked to Renna. "We both do."
Renna's fingers itched toward her dagger.
Rhyos continued, "The Iron Council is offering a choice. Surrender, and you will be given a place in the new order." His eyes gleamed. "Resist, and you will burn."
Silence.
Then Dain took a slow step forward. "I have a message for the Council."
Rhyos raised an eyebrow.
Dain didn't hesitate. He drew his sword—
—And slashed Rhyos's throat.
For a split second, everything was still. Rhyos staggered, his eyes wide in shock as blood poured from the wound. Then he collapsed.
The two remaining scouts turned to run.
Renna moved before she could think. Faster.
She caught the first one, slamming them into the ground and driving her dagger into their chest. They gasped, choked, then fell still.
The second scout almost made it to the trees—
An arrow struck them between the shoulders.
They dropped.
Silence.
Renna straightened, breathing hard. The camp remained still, all eyes on the fallen messengers.
Dain wiped his blade clean. "There's your answer."
Renna exhaled. The war had begun.
***
The bodies were already being dragged into the woods. The Freeborn worked quickly, erasing all evidence that the messengers had ever reached their camp. But no matter how well they hid the corpses, Renna knew the truth: the Iron Council would know.
Someone would come looking for their scouts. And when they found nothing but silence, they would send something worse.
She wiped the blood from her dagger and turned to Dain. "You just declared war."
Dain met her gaze, his expression unshaken. "War was already coming. We just made sure it happens on our terms."
Renna clenched her jaw. He was right, but it still felt like they had just struck a hornet's nest with a torch.
Kieran sighed, running a hand through their hair. "This is going to get ugly."
Dain sheathed his sword. "It was always going to."
The rebels began dispersing, their movements quick and disciplined. No panic, no hesitation. They had expected this. Maybe they had even been waiting for it.
Renna turned back to Rhyos's corpse, his gray eyes staring blankly at the sky. She had fought beside him once, back when she was still a soldier of the Empire.
A part of her still expected to feel something.
Guilt. Sorrow.
But there was nothing.
She looked away.
Dain motioned toward her. "Come with me."
Renna hesitated before following him into the war tent. The maps were still scattered across the table, covered in notes, troop movements, supply routes. At the center of it all, a single parchment lay unrolled—a rough sketch of an Imperial stronghold.
Dain tapped the map. "This is the nearest Iron Council outpost. Fort Telrith."
Renna frowned. "You're not suggesting we attack an Imperial fort, are you?"
Dain leaned forward, his voice steady. "No. But we are going to infiltrate it."
Renna stared at him. "That's suicide."
Kieran strolled in behind them, tossing an apple between their hands. "Suicide is not on the list of things we do for fun. What's the real plan?"
Dain exhaled. "The Council is searching for something. Something that can reignite the runes." He looked at Renna. "And I think you already know what it is."
Renna's stomach twisted. She did know.
In the depths of the Emperor's vaults, hidden beneath the capital, there had been something ancient. A relic, pulsing with energy beyond the runes themselves.
The Heart of the First Binding.
A fragment of the very magic that had created the Runebound.
Renna had only seen it once, but she had felt its power deep in her bones. The Emperor had never dared to use it while he lived—its magic was unpredictable, volatile. But if the Iron Council had found a way to control it…
Her fingers curled into fists. "If they have the Heart, they won't just restore the runes. They'll make them stronger."
Dain nodded. "Then we can't let them."
Renna looked back at the map. Fort Telrith was a crucial supply route for the Empire—if the Council was moving the Heart, this would be one of their stops before it reached the capital.
She exhaled sharply. "You want to steal it."
Dain nodded.
Kieran let out a low whistle. "You really like making enemies."
Dain ignored them. "Renna, you've been inside the Emperor's vaults before. You know how these artifacts work better than anyone here. We need you for this."
Renna stared at the map, at the lines of ink marking the stronghold's walls.
She had spent years running. Fleeing from the past, from the Empire, from everything they had turned her into.
But now there was no running.
Now, there was only the fight.
She took a slow breath.
"I'm in."