The rebel camp stirred before dawn. Fires burned low as figures clad in patched leather and scavenged armor moved quietly between tents, gathering weapons and supplies. The air was thick with tension, the kind that settled before a battle where lives would be decided by the swing of a blade.

  Alric stood at the edge of the camp, staring at the eastern horizon where the first streaks of light bled into the sky. His hand rested on the obsidian dagger at his side, its weight an unsettling comfort. Though the night had been cool, his skin still felt hot, like the dagger’s power pulsed in rhythm with his own heartbeat.

  Behind him, Kaelion’s spectral form materialized. The Echo seemed more vivid than before, the edges of his figure sharper, his golden eyes burning brighter.

  “Nervous?” Kaelion asked, a hint of amusement in his voice.

  Alric didn’t look back. “If I said no, I’d be lying.”

  “That’s good,” Kaelion said. “Fear keeps you alive. Just don’t let it rule you. If you falter in front of them”—he nodded toward the rebels preparing for the ambush—“they’ll see you as weak. And they’ll eat you alive.”

  “I know,” Alric muttered. He tightened his grip on the hilt of the dagger. “That’s why I can’t fail.”

  Kaelion’s grin widened. “Good. Because failure isn’t an option.”

  An hour later, the rebels were on the move. Iridia led them, her broad shoulders and no-nonsense demeanor commanding respect as she barked orders to her fighters. The plan was simple but dangerous: intercept the supply convoy at a choke point where the road narrowed between two rocky ridges. They would strike quickly, overwhelm the guards, and claim the supplies before reinforcements could arrive.

  Simple on paper. Less so in execution.

  Alric walked alongside Iridia near the front of the column, acutely aware of the stares and whispers that followed him. To the rebels, he was an unknown—an outsider who had appeared out of nowhere, claiming to be their savior. Most were skeptical, and some were outright hostile.

  “Do they trust me?” Alric asked under his breath as the group climbed the uneven path toward the ambush site.

  Iridia glanced at him, her expression unreadable. “Trust is earned. Right now, they’re following because I told them to. Whether they’ll keep following depends on what you do today.”

  Her words were blunt, but Alric appreciated the honesty. He nodded, focusing on the path ahead.

  When they reached the ambush site, Iridia split the fighters into groups, positioning them along the ridges that overlooked the road. The plan relied on surprise: they would wait until the convoy was fully in the choke point, then strike from above, cutting off any escape.

  Alric was stationed with a smaller group on the northern ridge, where he could oversee the battle. As the rebels took their positions, Kaelion appeared beside him, his golden eyes scanning the terrain.

  “This is a good spot,” Kaelion said, nodding in approval. “But remember, battle plans rarely survive the first clash. Be ready to adapt.”

  Alric crouched behind a boulder, his heart pounding as he gripped the dagger. “And what about the Echoes? Can I rely on you if things go wrong?”

  Kaelion’s expression darkened slightly. “I’m here to guide you, but remember: every time you call on our power, you give us more of yourself. Don’t get careless, boy.”

  Alric nodded, though Kaelion’s warning did little to ease his nerves.

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  The convoy appeared just after midday—a line of six wagons laden with crates and barrels, flanked by a dozen armed guards on horseback. At the front rode a captain, his polished armor gleaming in the sun.

  Alric watched as the convoy entered the choke point, the wagons rolling slowly over the uneven road. The guards were alert but not expecting trouble, their gazes scanning the ridges without much urgency.

  Iridia’s signal came in the form of a hawk’s cry. A moment later, chaos erupted.

  Rebel archers opened fire from both ridges, their arrows raining down on the convoy. Two guards fell instantly, their bodies toppling from their horses. The others shouted in alarm, scrambling to raise shields and counterattack.

  Alric sprang into action, vaulting over the boulder and racing down the slope toward the convoy. Behind him, the rebels surged forward, shouting battle cries as they charged.

  The guards were quick to react, forming a defensive line around the wagons. The captain barked orders, his sword flashing as he rallied his men.

  Alric reached the base of the ridge just as two guards charged at him, their weapons raised. He ducked under the first man’s swing, driving his dagger into the guard’s side with a swift, practiced motion. Black energy rippled along the blade, and the man crumpled to the ground, lifeless.

  The second guard hesitated, his eyes widening as he saw the dagger’s unnatural glow. That hesitation cost him. Alric stepped forward, his movements fluid and precise, and struck again. The guard fell.

  Kaelion’s voice rang in his mind. “Good. Keep moving. Don’t give them time to regroup.”

  Alric pressed forward, weaving through the chaos of the battlefield. The rebels were holding their own, but the guards were well-trained, their formation holding strong around the wagons.

  “Break their line,” Kaelion urged. “If you don’t, this will turn into a bloodbath.”

  Alric scanned the battlefield, his gaze locking on the captain. The man was at the center of the defensive line, his sword cutting down rebels with brutal efficiency.

  “If I take him out, the others might fall back,” Alric muttered.

  “Then do it,” Kaelion said. “But be smart about it. He’s no fool.”

  Alric nodded, tightening his grip on the dagger as he moved toward the captain. The air around him seemed to hum with energy, and he felt Kaelion’s power stirring within him, sharper and more insistent than before.

  The captain saw him coming and turned to face him, his expression cold and calculating. “So,” he said, his voice carrying over the noise of battle. “The traitor prince shows himself.”

  Alric didn’t respond. He lunged, his dagger flashing toward the captain’s chest. But the man was faster than he expected, sidestepping the strike and countering with a swift slash of his sword. Alric barely managed to block the attack, the force of the blow sending a jolt up his arm.

  The captain pressed the advantage, driving Alric back with a series of rapid strikes. Alric struggled to keep up, his movements growing more desperate as the captain’s blade came closer and closer to finding its mark.

  “Focus!” Kaelion’s voice thundered in his mind. “Use the power, boy! You can’t win this with raw strength.”

  Alric gritted his teeth, closing his eyes for the briefest moment. He reached for the power of the Echoes, letting it flood through him like a river of molten fire.

  When he opened his eyes, they glowed gold. His movements became a blur, faster and more precise than the captain could follow. He dodged the man’s next strike with ease, stepping inside his guard and driving the dagger into his chest.

  The captain gasped, his sword falling from his hand as he staggered back. Alric pulled the dagger free, his golden eyes locking on the man’s.

  “It’s over,” Alric said, his voice low and cold.

  The captain collapsed, and the battlefield fell silent.

  The battle was won, but the cost was high. Several rebels lay dead or wounded, their bodies scattered among the wreckage of the convoy. The surviving guards had fled, leaving the supplies in the rebels’ hands.

  Iridia approached Alric as the rebels began to sort through the spoils. Her face was grim, but there was a flicker of respect in her eyes.

  “You did well,” she said. “Without you, we wouldn’t have taken that convoy.”

  Alric nodded, though the weight of the battle hung heavy on him. He glanced down at the dagger, its dark surface faintly pulsing with energy. The power of the Echoes had saved him again, but he could feel their presence growing stronger, their whispers more insistent.

  “You proved yourself today,” Iridia said. “The rebels will follow you now. But this is just the beginning. Mordain won’t let this go unanswered.”

  “I know,” Alric said. “And I’m ready.”

  Iridia studied him for a moment before nodding. “Rest while you can. The real war starts now.”

  As she walked away, Alric felt Kaelion’s presence beside him.

  “You did well, boy,” the Echo said. “But don’t get complacent. This was a skirmish. The battles to come will make this look like child’s play.”

  Alric clenched his fists, staring at the distant horizon where Mordain’s armies waited. The road ahead would be long and bloody, but he was determined to see it through.

  The flames of rebellion had been kindled, and Alric would ensure they burned bright enough to consume the throne.