The morning after the council meeting, Elira stood atop the ridge overlooking the sprawling camp, the rising sun casting long shadows across the tents. The weight of her new command settled on her shoulders, heavy but not unwelcome. She had fought for this—earned it, in blood and sacrifice. But the cost was becoming clearer with every passing hour.
At the edge of the camp, soldiers were already breaking down their tents and preparing for the next skirmish. Their eyes flicked toward her, but only briefly. They had no idea what to make of her, this new commander with a woman's face but the heart of a soldier.
Corin approached, his boots crunching in the frost. "Morning, Commander."
Her heart skipped at the sound of her new title. She didn't feel like a commander—not yet. She had no formal training for it. No experience leading large units. Just the lessons she'd learned in battle, the ones she'd taught herself.
But Corin's presence steadied her. His faith in her was a quiet anchor.
"Morning, Corin," she said, her voice stronger than she felt. "Anything new from the front?"
He nodded, handing her a map. "We've pushed the Duras lines back at Traven Hill. But there's talk of a counterattack coming from the north. We'll need to reinforce our defenses."
Elira studied the map, her eyes tracing the lines of battle. The map was dotted with red marks, key locations the Duras forces had retaken or were threatening to take. The war wasn't just on the horizon anymore—it was here.
"The fortifications need to be shored up by nightfall," she said, her mind already working through the logistics. "Get the engineers on it. Tell the scouts to start gathering intelligence on the Duras movements—if we can predict their next move, we can strike first."
Corin raised an eyebrow. "You're already thinking two steps ahead, huh?"
"I've learned from the best," she said, her tone a little sharper than she meant it to be.
Corin didn't take offense. He just smiled. "As always, Commander."
They were interrupted by the sound of hooves, a small party of riders approaching quickly. At their head was Kael, his eyes scanning the camp with the focused intensity of someone who'd spent far too many years in the shadows.
"Commander," Kael called out as he dismounted. "I need to speak with you. In private."
Elira exchanged a quick look with Corin before following Kael to the edge of the camp, where a tent had been set up for strategy meetings. Inside, the air was thick with the smell of ink and parchment. Maps covered the table, and lanterns flickered against the cold morning light.
"Sit," Kael said, his voice tight. "We've got a problem."
Elira lowered herself into a chair, her heart picking up speed. "What's happened?"
Kael's face was grim. "Prince Valian of Duras is personally overseeing the next wave of attacks. His forces are well-trained, well-funded, and they're marching straight for us."
"Elira…" Kael hesitated, glancing at the map before meeting her gaze. "He's coming for you."
The words hit like a blow.
She stared at him, breath catching in her throat. "Why?"
"Because you've become a symbol," Kael said, his voice low. "Duras is desperate to end this war, and you're the face of their greatest threat. If they can take you down, they can demoralize the rebellion. The people will lose heart."
Elira's pulse quickened. She had known that her identity—her secret—was a risk. But now the full weight of it pressed down on her. Duras had never been shy about their willingness to sacrifice anything, anyone, to secure victory.
She clenched her fists. "Then we fight. We don't wait for them to come to us."
Kael's expression softened slightly, but his eyes remained hard. "We will. But we need a plan, and fast. Valian's forces are already close. We'll need to move quickly, strike hard, and hit them where it hurts the most."
Elira nodded. "I'll prepare the troops. We'll attack at dawn."
Kael's lips twitched, a small, approving smile. "You're ready for this."
"I'll make sure they are."
He met her gaze again, this time something unspoken passing between them. A shared understanding. A trust forged in the heat of battle.
But the moment passed quickly, and Kael's tone shifted. "There's one more thing."
"What?"
"Ren," Kael said. "He's not just tracking the traitor anymore. He's also found something… disturbing."
Elira's stomach twisted. "What?"
"An alliance. Between Duras and another faction. A group known as the Blackthorn Syndicate. They deal in espionage, sabotage… and assassinations."
The name sent a chill down her spine. The Blackthorn Syndicate was notorious for working in the shadows, always one step ahead of their enemies. And now, they were working with Duras.
"Great," Elira muttered. "We have a spy network of our own to contend with."
"Not just a spy network," Kael said. "The Blackthorn Syndicate is known for their ruthless methods. And they've taken an interest in you, Elira. They know who you are."
Her heart skipped.
"Ren suspects they're already inside the camp," Kael continued. "And that one of us might be working with them."
She felt her breath catch. Her mind raced. A traitor. Another one. Someone close.
"I'll talk to Ren," she said, standing quickly. "Find out everything."
Kael nodded. "Be careful. Trust no one."
—
The rest of the day was a blur of preparations and tension. Soldiers sharpened their blades. Engineers reinforced the walls. Scouts went out in teams, scanning the horizon for Duras' movements.
But in the back of her mind, Elira couldn't shake the feeling that they were being watched. Everywhere she turned, someone was glancing at her just a little too closely. She was the new face of the rebellion—the one who could tip the scales.
And yet, it wasn't just Duras she needed to fear. It was the shadows within her own ranks.
As dusk fell, Ren approached her, his footsteps muffled by the soft earth beneath him. His face was shadowed, his expression unreadable.
"You wanted to see me?" he asked.
"Tell me everything," Elira demanded. "About the Blackthorn Syndicate. About the spy."
Ren's eyes flicked over her shoulder, scanning the area before he stepped closer.
"We've got a rat in the ranks," he said in a low voice. "Someone's feeding Duras our plans. And it's someone who knows you."
Elira's blood ran cold. "Who?"
"I don't know," Ren admitted. "But whoever it is has been careful. Too careful. They've been feeding information to Duras for months."
"Then we find them."
"I'll need your help," Ren said, his eyes meeting hers. "You have more allies here than you realize. But you need to act quickly. Duras is preparing to strike at dawn. And we don't have much time."
Elira nodded, her resolve hardening.
"We fight at dawn," she said, her voice steady. "And we find the traitor before they can strike again."
The war was no longer just about survival. It was about trust, and betrayal.
And Elira would not let them take her down without a fight.