Kael's Pov
The sun was high, casting a dull sheen over the worn edges of the rogue camp. Dust floated in the air like a reminder of how fragile everything here really was. The tents, the weapons, the people. All built on hope stitched together with lies.
And I was the one who sewed most of it.
I walked slowly through the camp's outskirts, my boots kicking up dry earth. Every few steps, I passed a group of rogues—some sparring, others patching weapons or talking in hushed tones. These weren't my rogues, not the ones I'd raised and trained. No, these were the others. The criminals banished from their packs. The ones I'd lured in with promises. Whispered dreams of power, of legitimacy. Of finally getting what they were owed if they just followed my lead.
And they had. Right into the fire. I had been using them for a long time after all, sacrificing them to frame Sera so I could buy enough time and doubt to have her possessed by Velka.
This time it was to attack the fortress.
