Weeks passed, but the echoes of Ren's sacrifice did not fade. Across every broken street, every shattered spire, whispers of his name carried on the dust-laden winds.
Mira stood atop what remained of the central square—a place once adorned with statues of the First Kings. Now, the statues lay shattered, their marble faces broken, their crowns cracked open.
The survivors—dozens more now, drawn from the hidden depths of the undercity—had begun organizing. Food stores had been opened, medical stations arranged with what little supplies remained, and blacksmiths were already repurposing broken weapons into farming tools.
Caelum was not dead.
It was reborn in rust.
"Ren's sacrifice wasn't just for this city," Mira said quietly to herself. "It was for all of them."
Messages had begun arriving from distant territories. Painted banners, crude and worn, depicting the broken crown symbol.
The word was spreading.
And not all who heard it were allies.
---
From the east, mercenary guilds, once loyal to the Sovereigns, now roamed unchecked. They wanted control. Power.
Rumors spoke of a coalition forming in the ruins of the old empire, calling themselves "The Iron Regency," intent on crushing Caelum before rebellion spread too far.
Mira gathered her council around a broken fountain in the heart of the ruins.
"We don't have an army," she told them. "We barely have enough fighters to defend the walls."
"But we have symbols," one of the younger rebels said, raising his arm to reveal the broken crown tattooed on his wrist. "And the world is watching."
---
That night, Mira stood alone at Ren's grave.
"You bought us time," she whispered. "Now it's my turn."
She knelt, pressing her palm into the dirt above his chest. "I'm going to finish this. And if I have to burn the rest of the empire down… so be it."
The embers of revolution had been lit.
And this time, it wasn't just Caelum that would burn.
[TO BE CONTINUED...]