Provisional Rebels

The leader of the rebels stood at the threshold like a wall of ironwood brought to life. Every eye in the chamber turned toward him—except Lykos, who didn’t flinch.

Ravuun’s voice rumbled like thunder on stone.

“What’s the meaning of this?”

Lykos stepped forward. “Council meeting, Warden. Regarding two new arrivals.”

The Warden’s gaze fell on Rokuro and Kagi.

“They’re outsiders,” Basko said. “And not just any outsiders.”

Selka grinned. “They’re the Lock and his Key.”

A slow silence fell.

Ravuun stepped fully into the room, boots echoing across the floor, arms folded.

He stopped a few paces from Rokuro and looked him over.

“You,” he said. “You are the one from the prophecy?”

“I guess so,” Rokuro muttered, rising to his feet. “I—”

“I don’t care how you got here,” Ravuun cut in, voice like a mountain refusing to move. “I only want to know why you are in my war council. And why you are here in Emberhold.”

Rokuro clenched a fist. “We’re after someone. A man in a mask. Calls himself Draven. He has three eyes—and he’s tearing apart the seams between worlds. He’s very dangerous!”

At that, Ravuun raised an eyebrow.

He turned to Lykos. “Is this the same one our contact mentioned? The figure in the Glass Castle?”

Lykos nodded once. “We cannot be sure yet. But he matches the description. The one rumored to advise the king in the shadows.”

They knew about Draven?!

Rokuro jolted, eyes blazing. “He’s here?! Then I—”

“Enough.” Ravuun’s voice snapped, “You’ll act when the time is right. Not before.”

“But he’s—“

“And what can you do about it now?” Ravuun raised a brow, “If you could tear down the Glass castle on your own you wouldn’t be standing here right now, would you?”

Rokuro gritted his teeth but didn’t reply.

“Calm down.” Kagi muttered to him, giving him an acknowledging look.

Ravuun turned again to Lykos. “Tell me, Lykos. I trust your judgment. Is he worthy of our help?”

The general paused. Everyone in the room leaned forward slightly—tense. Then the man turned to look at Rokuro. The young man could feel it. The uncertainty in his gaze. He had expressed his dislike of him since the moment he stepped before him. And now he had the power to put the final nail in his coffin. Lykos nodded once and glanced back at Ravuun, now sure for his reply.

There it was…

Rokuro had already mentally prepared himself for the words.

“We can benefit from him being here as much as he will from us. I’ll make sure he’s ready to fight for our cause. His presence will not be in vain.”

“Huh?” Rokuro couldn’t help but utter.

But… how? Wasn’t he entirely against him joining?

“I’ll personally see he doesn’t swing blindly when the time comes.” Lykos gave a final nod.

Ravuun stared at him a beat longer. Then he clapped his hands once—loud, final.

“The verdict is made then,” he declared. “The Lock and his Key will remain under our protection. Train them, test them—if they prove themselves, we march together.”

“You will be granted provisional lodging in the Rootward District,” Ravuun added, not bothering to face them again. “See that they’re… accommodated, Lykos.”

He turned on his heel.

“Council dismissed.”

Everybody silently obeyed the orders, not commenting much on the way out. However Rokuro and Kagi were stuck firmly on their seats.

“The hell just happened?” Rokuro muttered.

“Maybe it’s our lucky day.” Kagi smiled sarcastically.

On the way out Lykos passed Rokuro a glance. This time his eyes weren’t denying his presence. They were testing it.

But still… becoming Lykos’ disciple?

Rokuro didn’t know how to feel about that.

╒ 🗝 ╛

With the council chamber doors shut behind them, silence gave way to the layered noise of Emberhold—the ring of distant hammers, the murmur of conversations, and the ever-present whistling of the Ironwood trees that sounded like suzu bells outside a shrine.

Lykos walked ahead without a word, cloak swaying behind him. Rokuro and Kagi followed, and behind them trailed Selka and Nero—one humming to herself, the other clearly wishing she wasn’t.

“So,” Selka chirped, “how does it feel to not be instantly executed? Warm inside, isn’t it?”

“Would be warmer if someone stopped talking,” Nero muttered.

They moved across Emberhold, with Lykos speaking as they walked, never slowing. “Emberhold is divided into three districts. You’ll learn them fast if you want to avoid getting lost.”

He tilted his head toward the elevated walkways and reinforced homes closest to the Elder Tree’s massive roots. “That’s Crownrest. Reserved for the Warden, elite warriors, and the council’s private chambers. Don’t go wandering.”

“Huh, I bet that’s where we’ll be staying.” Rokuro whispered.

“Don’t interrupt,” Lykos said sharply, then gestured toward the bustling central ring they now crossed. “Trunkhold. Workshops, council grounds, communal fires, supply depots. You’ll be reporting here often.”

Rokuro was only half listening—his brain was busy imagining a badass rebel treehouse. Maybe with a fireplace, a balcony, and one of those fancy rope ladders—

Lykos stopped at the outer edge of the encampment, “Rootward. Tents, temporary shelter, training quarters. That’s where you’re headed.”

“That’s where what?”

Lykos pointed to a beige tent near a crooked tree stump.

“You’ll be staying here.”

Rokuro blinked. He turned to Kagi. She shrugged. Then to Nero. He nodded. Then to Selka. She merely grinned.

“Huh?!”

Kagi peered inside, unimpressed. “At least it’s standing?”

Selka folded her arms, grinning. “Oh, don’t act so spoiled. You’re getting a luxury flapper—plenty of rebels only get shared quarters.”

“It’s a tent!” Rokuro cried. “We just walked past an entire blacksmithing district and you’re telling me we couldn’t slap together a cabin?!”

“Space is prioritized for people we’re not testing,” Nero said flatly. “Get over it, new kid.”

“Get over it, new kid.” Kagi grinned.

“You’re staying with him, you know.” Selka laughed.

Kagi stopped. “…Pardon?”

“Saves space. Plus you two apparently share fate or whatever it is the Lock and the Key do.”

She clicked her tongue. “Tch.”

Lykos stepped aside. “Get settled. You begin orientation tomorrow.”

Kagi reluctantly peeked inside.

A squat iron stove sat tucked in the corner, its chimney pipe curling through the canvas like a vein. A blue lantern hung from the tent’s center pole, softly glowing with trapped Aetherlight. Two bedrolls lay across opposite sides, with a crate of basic supplies and a rolled-up map between them. Functional, yes. Inviting? Not even close.

Kagi sighed.

Selka gave them a mock salute as she turned to leave. “Hehe! Don't worry it’ll be cosy soon just don’t trip on the—”

“Damn my luck…”

Rokuro murmured as he stepped forward and immediately got tangled in the tent flap.

“—flap,” Selka finished cheerfully as he faceplanted into the dirt.

“I FUCKING HATE THIS PLACE!” Rokuro barked, muffled.

Kagi was already inside, examining the sparse bedding and crates lining the interior. “Good. Because we’re staying here.”

He groaned into the grass. “If a beetle crawls in my shoe, I’m flipping this whole camp.”

She turned her head slightly, arms crossed. She got up and pulled the bedrolls as far apart as humanly possible.

“Don’t get any funny ideas. We’ll be sleeping on opposite sides of the tent. As far apart as the walls allow.”

Rokuro pushed himself up with a grunt. “Like I care…”

Rustle.

Both of them froze.

The tent flap twitched.

Then—

fwip!

A small figure popped inside. No hesitation. No fear. Just big green eyes, a beaming grin, and arms full of foraged berries. It was a little girl barely older than 8.

“Hiii!” she chirped. “Are you the scary new people? What was it… the padlock and the keychain?”

“Keychain…” Kagi echoed, slightly offended.

Rokuro on the other hand jolted like he’d seen a ghost. His heart practically stopped.

Short black hair. Round big eyes. A chipper voice that didn’t match the plague-scarred world around her.

For a split second, he didn’t see a stranger.

He saw his sister. Kana.

Before he could speak, a second figure burst into the tent—an older woman in layered fabric, panting.

“Sana! You can’t just walk into strangers’ tents! Honestly, child—”

She gave an apologetic bow to Kagi, then Rokuro.

“I’m terribly sorry. She’s just very curious. She always wants to greet the new people near us. Come on now, don’t bother these nice—”

“Sana…” Rokuro muttered, “You have to be kidding me…”

Even the name was similar. It was as if the universe was laughing at him.

Kagi stepped forward, her neutral expression easing to a softer one. “She wasn’t bothering us. If we’re kicking out nuisances, I’d suggest starting with him.”

“Oi!” Rokuro snapped. “What did you just say?!”

Sana giggled. “You two don’t look like heroes. Or scary. You just look grumpy.”

Rokuro opened his mouth to protest, but then—

“Oooh, what’s that?”

Sana darted forward and tapped the gauntlet on his arm.

“Wait—don’t touch that—!”

Too late. She was already running her fingers along the glowing etchings, completely mesmerized.

“Is this your magic arm?! It’s so cool! It feels like it’s breathing!”

Rokuro sighed, shoulders slumping. “Why does nobody ever listen to me…?”

Kagi held back a laugh behind her hand.

He turned to look at the girl again.

No, the hair was different. And the eyes weren’t quite the same.

But the voice. The way she smiled.

It made his chest ache.

“We’ll be going now. Again I’m very sorry for this.” The elderly woman bowed again.

“Bye! See you ‘morrow!”

On the other hand Sana simply waved, completely oblivious.

Rokuro and Kagi waved back. When they were gone Rokuro slumped down on the bedroll.

Kagi turned to him, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah… just…” Rokuro rolled over, “She reminded me of someone.”

Someone he couldn’t protect.

“Well, better rest. We don’t know what that orientation they spoke of is.”

Rokuro nodded.

He wasn’t ready to protect anyone yet. Not Sana. Not Kagi. Not this world.

But maybe, tomorrow… he’d take the first step.