I don’t think this is going away. We’ve tried amputations, plant and animal remedies. Nothing stopped the spread. It’s reached my chest, and my heart is dying, but we have so much left to do. Sometimes I wonder if Orerha did this on purpose. Spread this plague through that caravan. I wish I could say The Rebellion would be in good hands, but none of the real adults will step up.
Lydus, if you are reading this, and I know you will be—you were always so nosy—we must spread out. This mountain, as beautiful as it is, cannot sustain us forever. Orerha can’t be stopped. The rebellion had a chance in the past when there were hundreds of us, full of hope and resolve. But not anymore. Don’t let Adira get all that power to her head. You, her, and Everett grew up together, like your fathers before you. The three of you should make decisions together.
Lydus held the crumpled note in his hand, its paper fragile from years of being handled. He sat there in the dim light, reading it for what felt like the hundredth time since his father had passed.
“I know dad.” Lydus sighed, running a hand down the faded words. There wasn’t much left for him to do now but hope, even as everything seemed to crumble around them. He wondered if anything would work out, if it ever could, though he knew deep down that sometimes things had a way of righting themselves—eventually, even if it was long past their time.
His eyes flickered toward the window. Early morning light filtered in, turning anything, and everything touched a pale white in color. It cast shadows on the floor from where dirt was caked onto it. Leaning close, Lydus blew out a candle, the room falling to a brief darkness. He’d woken up during the night, not being able to rest again. His eyes burned lightly with tiredness.
Sitting still in that chair, the quietness floating lightly around him, he began finally to drift off, the paper now resting on a desk. Bang, bang.
A knock rattled the door. Lydus’s eyes snapped open. He groaned, pushing his chair out with a slow scrape as he stood.
Bang, bang.
“Unless you’re some pretty woman, go aw—” Lydus muttered, stumbling toward the door. As he swung it open, the sight before him made him pause. “Everett?” he observed, rubbing a hand over his face, still half asleep. His mind was sluggish, but curiosity sparked awake. “What’s going on, man?”
Everett shifted where he stood, “We’re going.”
"Going—" Lydus blinked in confusion "Going where?"
"Out," Everett replied simply, glancing past Lydus through the doorway. "Adira’s letting me take a small group hunting."
Lydus’s eyes widened in disbelief. "Are you serious? That’s—"
"We meet on the outskirts in thirty," Everett cut him off, stepping back as if the conversation was already over. "You’re one of our best hunters, so don’t fuck this up."
With a quick salute, Lydus grinned. "No way in hell I would."
"Yeah, sure..." Everett mumbled, barely acknowledging the gesture. His shaggy brown hair, now tied back, swayed as he spun around and marched off without another word.
In the sudden silence, Lydus took a sharp breath, his hand twitching as though he wanted to call after Everett. But he hesitated, letting the thought die. Did Adira really allow this? It didn’t seem like something she would agree to. The idea of sending a group out hunting—risking lives like that—wasn’t her style. She was too cautious, too controlled.
Shaking his head, Lydus dismissed the doubt and turned back into his home. Moving quickly, he made his way to a room at the far back, the door worn from years of use. The knob, darkened silver and smudged with fingerprints, clicked as he swung it open. The door hit the wall with a dull thud, and he cursed under his breath, hoping it wasn’t loud enough to disturb Alex.
Inside was a small storage area. On a table, carefully arranged, was a set of armor. The iron chest plate was thin but sturdy, finely fitted with mail that draped along the sides to protect his ribs. Small plates covered key points on the leggings, and heavy leather boots sat beneath. Next to it all lay a sword in its sheath and a bow with its quiver of arrows.
Lydus stared at the gear for a long moment. His fingers brushed against the cool metal, tracing the familiar curves and ridges. This armor had once belonged to his father, and now it was his. As if the world had come full circle.
After fitting himself into the armor, Lydus slung the quiver over his shoulder, tightening the strap securely across his chest. He buckled the sword's sheath at his side, not used to its weight. Holding the blade aloft, he watched as the faint sunlight caught the edge, casting a dangerous glint off the sharpened steel. The light shimmered for a brief moment before he slid the sword back into its sheath with a metallic screech.
Glancing into an old, cracked mirror, Lydus took a moment to admire himself in the armor. Without it, he looked a bit too thin, almost malnourished from the hard life they'd been living. But with the armor on, he looked transformed—strong, fit, even a little badass.
Satisfied with his appearance, Lydus headed out of the house, careful not to let the door slam shut behind him. The morning air greeted him immediately, cold enough to make his breath visible in the early light. He squinted as the sunlight hit his face, momentarily shielding his eyes before taking a deep, steadying breath.
The familiar scents of dawn filled his senses—freshly lit fires, smoke curling up from chimneys, and the earthy fragrance of vegetation that wafted around. It always smelled better at this hour, before the cold numbed their ability of the sense. Regardless, the point still stood.
“That’s a new sight,” a familiar voice called from Lydus’s left. Emmelia was walking down the path, her arms crossed. The sunlight caught her eyes, making them gleam faintly as she looked him over. “Is that...?”
“My father’s,” Lydus replied with a weak smile, still standing at the top of the stairs. “What are you doing here?”
Emmelia stopped at the bottom, her hair falling forward as she tilted her head up to meet his gaze. She hesitated for a moment, unsure if this was really her place. “Everett wanted me to come along, but I said no.”
Lydus raised an eyebrow. “You’re a good hunter.”
“I know,” Emmelia murmured, her voice almost too quiet. “That’s the problem.” Lydus skipped the stairs entirely, hopping down with the bend of his knees and strolling past her, “You shouldn’t go.” She spoke abruptly, holding a hand out to stop him.
Lydus’s head tilted, adjusting a strap on his armor. "Why not?"
“If Adira finds out, there’ll be hell, Lydus,” Emmelia said quickly, cutting him off before he could respond. “And—this could be dangerous.”
Lydus paused, then turned toward her, placing a hand on her shoulder. “Can you watch Alex?” he asked, brushing off her concerns. “We shouldn’t be gone for more than a few hours.”
Emmelia hesitated, biting her lip. “Sure—” She flicked his face playfully. “But listen to me next time, alright?”
Lydus raised both hands in mock surrender, grinning. “Heard.” With a smile, he turned and began walking away, his pace quick.
She stood there for a moment, watching as he disappeared down the path. A feeling of unease settled in her gut, but she pushed it aside. After a few minutes, Emmelia sighed and climbed the stairs, opening the door to the quiet house.
Her stomach rumbled, reminding her she hadn’t eaten yet. With the simple logic that if she was watching Alex, she had the right to grab something, she began opening cabinets in the main room. The first one revealed only old plates, chipped and worn. The second offered more promise: a loaf of day-old bread. Its outer crust was hard, but that was nothing unusual.
Emmelia broke off a piece and peeled away the tough outside, savoring the soft middle. It wasn’t warm, but the sweetness remained, and it was enough to settle her immediate hunger.
“Hello?” Alex crept open a door, peering out, his strands of hair falling downwards.
Emmelia peered around the corner, waving gently. “Hey, kiddo.”
Alex, still rubbing sleep from his eyes, blinked at her groggily. “Where’s Lydus?”
Her lips parted as if to answer quickly, but she paused, thinking over her response. “He’s on watch right now,” she said finally, extending a hand to him. “He’ll be back later. Come here.”
Alex narrowed his eyes. “You’re lying,” he accused, though he shuffled over and sat down beside her at the table anyway.
“Why do you say that?” Emmelia asked, her tone calm.
He shrugged, staring down at the table. “I don’t know,” he mumbled. “Lydus says you and the others lie all the time.”
She raised an eyebrow, “Oh—he did?” Emmeline wanted to pry some more, but it was none of her business.
“That you and Adira...” Alex stopped, “It’s nothing.”
Emmelia held herself back, “He’s with a hunting group.” She admitted, “Beyond the line...” Seeing his worry, the woman leaned in closer, “And they’ll be okay. We all will.”
In reality, Emmelia wasn’t sure at all. But the only thing you could do was keep positive. Right?
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