Chapter 52 The Dissenters

Chapter 52 The Dissenters
The trouble started on a Tuesday.

Kaelen remembered it because the sky was clear for the first time in weeks, and the wheat was tall and green, and he had been thinking that maybe, just maybe, things were finally settling down. He was in the field, checking the irrigation ditch, when Mira appeared at the edge of the trees.

Her face was pale. Her bow was in her hand.

"Someone's coming," she said. "From the east. Not Wardens."

Kaelen stood up and brushed the dirt from his knees. "How many?"

"Four. Maybe five. They're not trying to hide."

He walked to the porch. Sera was there, the book in her hands, the warmth in her chest pulsing. She had been reading the names again, studying the history of the Cabal, looking for answers to questions no one had thought to ask.

"We have visitors," he said.

Sera closed the book. "I know. I felt them."

The figures appeared on the road a few minutes later. There were five of them, just as Mira had said. They wore grey cloaks, but not the grey of the Marshal's Wardens. These cloaks were darker, older, stained with dirt and what looked like old blood.

They stopped at the edge of the property. The one in front was a man with a scar across his face and gold cracks on his hands.

"We're not here to fight," he said. His voice was rough, like someone who had not used it in a long time. "We're here to talk."

Sera stepped off the porch. "Talk about what?"

"About the book. About the Cabal. About what happens to people like us when the hunger comes back."

Kaelen moved to stand beside Sera. "People like us?"

The scarred man held up his hands. The gold cracks caught the sunlight, faint but visible. "We were hunters. Once. We served the Cabal. We fed on the seals. We did terrible things." He lowered his hands. "Then the Cabal fell, and we ran. We've been hiding in the hills ever since. Eating roots. Drinking from streams. Waiting to die."

Sera's hand rested on her knife. "Why didn't you come to the farm? We've been helping hunters. Healing them. Giving them a place to stay."

"Because we didn't trust you. Because we didn't trust anyone." The man looked at the farmhouse, at the barn, at the wheat field. "But we're hungry now. Not the hunger. Real hunger. We haven't eaten in days."

Kaelen looked at Sera. She nodded.

"There's stew on the hearth," Kaelen said. "Sit. Eat. We'll talk after."

\-

The five hunters sat at the table in the farmhouse, bowls of stew in their hands, bread on the board between them. They ate like they had not seen food in weeks—fast, desperate, watching each other's bowls as if someone might steal from them.

Sera sat at the head of the table, the book closed in front of her. The warmth in her chest pulsed slowly, keeping time with her heartbeat.

The scarred man finished his stew and set down his bowl. His name was Corin, he said. He had been a Warden before the Cabal found him. He had been young and scared and hungry for power. The Cabal had promised him everything. They had given him nothing but hunger and guilt and gold cracks on his hands.

"We heard you were helping hunters," he said. "The ones who came to the farm. The ones who wanted to change."

"We are," Sera said.

"We want to change too. But we don't know how." Corin looked at his hands. "The hunger is still there. It never goes away. It just sleeps. And every morning, we wake up wondering if today is the day it wakes up too."

Sera was quiet for a moment. Then she opened the book.

"I can help you," she said. "But you have to trust me. And you have to do what I say."

Corin looked at the book. The pages glowed faintly, gold and grey and something in between.

"What do we have to do?"

"Stay. Work. Learn. The same thing the other hunters did. The same thing everyone on this farm does." Sera closed the book. "You will not touch the book. You will not speak the names. You will not feed on anything except the food we put on your plate."

Corin nodded slowly. "And if the hunger comes back? If we lose control?"

"Then we deal with it. Together." Sera looked at Kaelen. "That's what this place is for. Not to punish people for what they've done. To help them become something else."

\-

The five hunters stayed.

They slept in the barn at first, then in the cabin the Wardens had built, then in tents of their own when more hunters arrived from the hills. Word spread that the farm was a safe place. A place where the hungry could come and not be judged.

But not everyone was happy.

The Wardens who had been camped on the property grew restless. They had come to study the book, to learn the names, to understand the history of the Cabal. They had not come to live beside the very people who had served that Cabal.

The dissenters gathered at the edge of the camp, their voices low, their faces hard.

Kaelen heard about it from Halden.

The old hunter sat on the porch, whittling his piece of wood, his grey eyes on the Wardens' tents.

"They're going to do something stupid," he said. "Men like that always do."

"What kind of stupid?"

"The kind that gets people killed." Halden set down his knife. "They're afraid of the hunters. They think the hunters will turn on them in the night. They think the book is controlling Sera. They think the farm is a nest of vipers."

Kaelen looked at the tents. The sun was setting, and the Wardens were gathering around their fires, their faces lit by the flames.

"Can you talk to them?"

"I can try. But they won't listen to me. I'm one of the hungry too." Halden picked up his knife and his wood. "You should talk to Sera. Tell her to be careful. The dissenters have friends in the Marshal's camp. Friends who are not as loyal as they pretend."

Kaelen walked inside.

Sera was sitting by the hearth, the book in her lap, the warmth in her chest pulsing. She looked up when he entered.

"Halden says the Wardens are going to do something stupid."

"I know." Sera closed the book. "I've been reading their names. The dissenters. They've been meeting at night. Planning."

"Planning what?"

"To take the book. To burn the farm. To drive the hunters back into the hills." Sera's voice was flat. "They think they're saving the world. They're just making it worse."

Kaelen sat down beside her. "What do you want to do?"

"I want to talk to them. One last time. Give them a chance to leave peacefully."

"And if they don't?"

Sera looked at the book. The gold light pulsed, faint and steady.

"Then we do what we have to do."

\-

The meeting was held the next morning, in the field between the farmhouse and the Wardens' camp.

Sera stood in the center, the book in her hands, the warmth in her chest pulsing brightly. Kaelen stood behind her, his hand on his knife. Mira stood in the trees, her bow strung. Dorn stood by the barn, his sword at his hip.

The dissenters gathered on the other side of the field. There were twelve of them, led by a young Warden named Theron. He had red hair and a sharp face and eyes that burned with the certainty of someone who had never been wrong.

"Sera Vane," Theron said. "We have come to ask you one last time. Give us the book."

Sera shook her head. "The book stays here."

"The book does not belong to you. It does not belong to the hunters. It belongs to the Wardens. To the Tower. To the people who have protected it for centuries."

"The people who have protected it for centuries are the same people who fed on the seals. The same people who created the Cabal. The same people who hunted and killed and lied." Sera's voice was cold. "You do not get to claim the book just because you are afraid of what it might do."

Theron's face tightened. "You leave us no choice."

He raised his hand. The other dissenters raised theirs.

The warmth in Sera's chest blazed.

Kaelen stepped forward. "Don't do this. Not here. Not now. Walk away, and no one gets hurt."

Theron looked at him. "You should have stayed in your field, farmer."

He drew his sword.

Mira's arrow took it from his hand.

The blade spun through the air and landed in the dirt. Theron stared at his empty hand, then at the arrow embedded in the hilt of his sword.

"The next one goes through your throat," Mira said from the trees. "Walk away."

The dissenters looked at each other. Their confidence was gone. Their certainty was gone.

Theron bent down and picked up his sword. He did not look at Kaelen. He did not look at Sera.

"This is not over," he said.

He walked back toward the tents. The other dissenters followed.

Sera watched them go. The warmth in her chest dimmed, but it did not go out.

"It's not over," she said. "He's right about that."

Kaelen put his hand on her shoulder.

"Then we'll be ready when they come back."