Chapter 23: Saris and Nyra’s Heart-to-Heart
The aftermath of the convoy attack still buzzed through the rebel camp, but the victory had begun to sour. In the small, dimly lit hideout, the rebels had gathered around a crackling fire. Their faces were shadowed by the flickering light, some grim, others hopeful. They had won a battle, but the war felt more distant than ever.
Nyra stood near the wall, arms crossed over her chest, her eyes flickering between her comrades. The room felt stifling, crowded with both the weight of their recent success and the tension that followed. They had taken weapons, dealt a blow to the Empire—but at what cost? The injured from the mission lay in makeshift beds, tended to by the few with basic healing skills. And the city… the city was suffering.
She couldn't escape the thought that maybe Revin had been right all along. Every victory seemed to provoke more brutality, and more suffering for the people of Halthor. The Empire wasn't backing down—they were pushing harder.
In the corner, Saris lay on her cot, her sharp eyes watching Nyra with a mixture of concern and something else—something like understanding. Nyra couldn't avoid her gaze any longer. She moved over to sit by Saris's side, her back resting against the cold stone wall.
"I can see it in your face," Saris said quietly, her voice low but knowing. "You're carrying too much. Always were."
Nyra clenched her jaw, her fingers curling into fists. "It's my responsibility. I led the mission. I made the decision to attack."
"You also saved lives," Saris pointed out, sitting up a little, though the movement clearly cost her. "We needed those weapons and you knew that. The rebellion needed a win."
Nyra exhaled sharply, frustration bubbling up. "And now? Idris is going to come down harder. He's already tightening his grip. More checkpoints, more patrols. We're putting the people in danger."
Saris was quiet for a moment, studying Nyra with the kind of gaze that only years of surviving in the harsh world of Halthor could give. "You think you could've stopped this?" she asked, her voice softer now. "That by playing it safe, by laying low, you could've avoided the Empire's wrath? Idris was going to come after us whether we fought back or not. That's what tyrants do."
Nyra's chest tightened. She knew Saris was right. But that didn't make it any easier.
"You need to understand something, Nyra," Saris continued, her eyes hardening. "Leadership is about making impossible choices. You've been doing that since the day you decided to fight. There's no going back, no easy way out. Every victory will cost you something. Every step forward comes with a price."
Nyra looked away, the weight of those words pressing down on her.
"And you can't let them break you," Saris added, her voice firm. "The minute you give up, the rebellion's over. You're the reason they're still fighting. Remember that."
Nyra swallowed hard, her throat tight. She had never wanted to lead. She had never asked for this. But Saris was right. Giving up wasn't an option.
***
The next morning, the streets of Halthor were filled with dread. Imperial patrols roamed the streets, their armoured boots echoing against the cobblestones. Checkpoints were everywhere—at the markets, gates, and even the side streets leading to the poorer districts. The city was suffocating under the Empire's control, and the tension was palpable.
Captain Idris had wasted no time after the convoy attack. The Empire's grip was tightening, and his message was clear: defy us, and we will break you.
The rebellion had struck a blow, but Idris was striking back harder. The streets were lined with soldiers, and every day there were new rumors of people being dragged from their homes—suspected rebels or sympathizers, anyone who might have helped or even spoken to the wrong person.
Nyra stood on a rooftop overlooking one of the main squares, watching as a group of soldiers escorted a man through the marketplace. His face was bruised and swollen, and his hands were bound behind his back. They threw him to the ground, right in front of a crowd of terrified onlookers.
The message was clear: this could happen to any of you.
The city was turning. The citizens were terrified. Informants were cropping up everywhere, people willing to turn on their neighbors just to save their own skin or earn a reward from the Empire. It was becoming harder and harder for the rebellion to move safely. Every time Nyra and her people made a move, it felt like they were walking into a trap.
Back at the hideout, the tension inside the group had reached a breaking point. Revin, his face lined with age and stress, paced in front of the small group, his voice sharp with frustration.
"We're bleeding ourselves dry," he said, his tone bitter. "Every time we strike, Idris tightens the noose. The people are turning on us, and we're losing allies faster than we're gaining them."
Myk, standing on the opposite side of the room, crossed his arms over his broad chest. His eyes were hard, his stance defensive. "We're giving people hope," he argued, his voice rough. "We hit the Empire where it hurts, and they're scared. That convoy attack was proof that we can win."
"Win?" Revin snapped. "What did we win, Myk? A few crates of weapons while the Empire doubles its patrols? People are dying. The city is crumbling, and you think we're winning?"
Nyra stood in the middle of the room, caught between the two camps. The others were watching her, waiting for her to speak, but the weight of their expectations felt suffocating. Revin wasn't wrong—things were getting worse, not better. But Myk had a point too. They couldn't just sit back and do nothing.
"Enough, stop arguing. I have said this numerous times that we have to be smart," Nyra said, her voice steady, though the doubt gnawed at her insides. "We can't afford reckless moves, but we can't afford to stop fighting either. If we give up now, the rebellion is over."
Revin's eyes narrowed, his frustration evident. "And how many more lives are you willing to risk for these small victories?"
Nyra's jaw tightened. She didn't have an answer. No one did.