“…You’re not fighting soldiers. You’re fighting believers.”Reyes didn’t flinch, but his silence said more than any words. Ares leaned forward, hands clasped between his knees, elbows on his thighs. The weight of Lina’s words wasn’t just tactical - it was personal. Intimately familiar.He'd once led like that - when loss made belief the only armor left.Lina sat rigid, her knuckles white as she gripped the edge of the metal bench. “They don’t fear death,” she said quietly. “Not because they’re brave. Because they’ve already buried the parts of themselves that could feel it.”Ares stared at her, expression unreadable. “Did you?”“I tried,” she whispered. “But I kept waking up.”For a moment, Mira’s hand found Ares’s under the table. A quiet touch. Not comfort. Contact. Connection.Ares stood, his shadow tall under the low infirmary lights. “If Magnus still believes in me,” he said, “then maybe he’s not too far gone.”Lina shook her head slowly. “Don’t mistake obsession for faith. He do

“Come see who I’ve become.”The words left Ares's mouth like a vow. Not shouted. Not broadcast. Just spoken - straight into the ash-stained wind, as if Magnus might hear it carried through the silence.Behind him, the Resistance Hall pulsed with movement. Supplies were rotated, defenses reinforced. But up here, alone on the northern wall, Ares stood still.Watching.Waiting.Not for war. For recognition.And then - he saw it.One torch broke the ridgeline. Not a flare. Not a drone. A single man, hooded, barefoot, walking straight through the dead brush with that burning stick held high.Ares didn’t call for a rifle.He stepped down the rampart....By the time he reached the outer trench, Reyes and Kara were already moving into position. Mira appeared beside him, hair tied back, rifle strapped but untouched.“He’s alone,” Reyes said, squinting through the scope. “Unarmed. Symbolic.”Ares nodded. “A messenger.”“Or bait,” Kara muttered.“Or both,” Mira said quietly.Still, Ares kept wa

Somewhere in the dark -Magnus smiled.And then, he answered.Not with words.With flame.At precisely 0400, the east hills lit up like a god had struck a match across the earth. Controlled, surgical - just a dozen fires, perfectly spaced, forming a crescent around the Resistance’s perimeter.They weren’t trying to breach.They were trying to be seen.Ares stood at the northern tower, wind catching the corners of his coat, eyes locked on the horizon. He didn’t flinch. Didn’t blink. The fires didn’t scare him.They intrigued him.“This isn’t a threat,” Reyes said from the platform beside him. “It’s a ritual.”Ares nodded. “And it means something.”“Yeah,” Kara growled from below. “It means he wants us watching while he prepares to gut us.”But Mira said nothing.She stood a few paces back, binoculars raised, silent, her eyes following the line of flames to the farthest ridge - where one dark figure stood.Alone.Magnus.Unmistakable even from a distance.He didn’t move. Didn’t gesture.

"Then," he said, "we burn brighter."The words weren’t a shout. They were low, steady - the kind that didn’t need volume to be heard. Reyes looked at him for a long moment, jaw set, before nodding once. Around them, the campfire crackled, casting shards of gold over faces hardened by loss yet sharpened by purpose.Mira was still leaning against the far post, her arms crossed, but her eyes stayed on Ares as though trying to read the part of him no one else could see. Elijah slept between them, curled under a blanket too big for his small frame. The boy’s breathing was slow, even, the rise and fall of his chest a quiet reminder that not everything had been taken.“Brighter, huh?” Hawk muttered, flipping his knife between his fingers. “You better mean that, Kai. Because they’ll throw everything at us before they go dark.”Ares didn’t look away from the fire. “Then we give them something they can’t put out.”It wasn’t bravado. It wasn’t even rage. It was the simple acceptance of a truth h