Starlit Throne - Chapter 8: Rebel Rising

Second Version - English

Rating: M/E
Genres: Romantasy | Sci-Fi | Slow Burn | Space Opera | Fated Mates

Summary:
Cassia Harper thought her biggest struggles were making rent, keeping up with Brighton’s fashion scene, and selling enough handmade crafts to help her family. But when a mysterious, brooding soldier-for-hire with pointed ears crashes into her life, everything changes.

Her past isn’t what she thought. The father she barely remembers wasn’t just some distant traveler and the pin she wears every day? Not just an antique!

Now, with assassins on her trail and a protector who refuses to claim her (even though the tension between them is scorching), Cassia has to decide: will she run from her destiny or rise to it?

Expect:
🔥 Slow-burn with intense tension (and several many very hot payoffs 😏)
🐺 Cosmic pointed-eared protector (who knows she’s his mate but refuses to act on it... at first)
👑 Galactic politics
🌌 A space opera filled with action, smut & drama
🛸 Brighton, UK meets the stars

The rebel compound looked more like a cluster of misplaced moon rocks than a proper base. No roads led to it. From above, no ship would see more than bioluminescent jungle with streaks of blue and green and white that made it look like an artist's mistake. Unless you got close. Then you might catch the dark shadows of buildings where they nestled between natural rock formations and phosphorescent trees. You'd almost certainly notice the ground-to-air defenses before the rest, if you were flying the way Lord Matthias's forces liked to fly: too fast and too sure. Explosions lit the sky in garish colors as Cassia and Dain arrived. A ship went down, silent and dark as a nightmare. It trailed fire and molten metal instead of screams, the gaping hole in its side still glowing from the blast. There was a different kind of quiet in the compound. Rebels rushed to prepare for the next attack, not knowing whether it would come from the ground or air or both. They didn't speak. They barely made a sound. Cassia stood in the midst of them, an alien as much as any other on Lumiria. "Move out," Dain said, and she didn't know if he was talking to her or the group of fighters he'd joined. But she knew what she had to do.

Weapons fire crisscrossed the sky as more ships descended, their lines sharp and metallic against the luminescent canopy. Troops dropped from the bellies of the hovering beasts, and the jungle seemed to swallow them whole. "Get to cover!" a voice shouted, rough and urgent, but still not loud enough to cover the sound of the next explosion. It lit the jungle in sickly yellow, its plume of flame lingering like a sore. A group of rebels sprinted toward a crevice in the rocks, boots thudding, faces drawn with determination and sweat. One of them turned, waving frantically to Cassia and Dain. She didn't recognize the face, but she knew what it was saying: Hurry, or you'll be dead.

Dain was already moving, each stride a combination of precision and urgency. Cassia hesitated, taking in the scramble around her. She had never seen so many species in one place: men with faces like blue marble, creatures that glowed even brighter than the jungle, others she couldn't begin to describe. They moved with an eerie synchronization that made her feel both awed and isolated. She was part of this fight, she reminded herself, whether she felt like it or not.

Dain reached the crevice and turned back, his silhouette a solid anchor against the chaos. He waited. He wouldn't wait long. A sharp crack split the air as another blast landed nearby, sending a shudder through the ground. She couldn't be left behind. Not now, not ever. She sprinted, reaching the others just as the last one slipped into the rocks. "Go," Dain said, and they moved together into the shadows, their way lit by the ghastly glow of weapons fire.

Once inside, Dain didn't stop. He joined a group of fighters with the ease of someone putting on a familiar coat. His voice cut through the thick air, a calm amidst the storm. "Check your weapons," he ordered, "set perimeter charges, watch for advance troops. They're fast and they're brutal." The rebels moved with purpose, following his commands as if he'd been there for years instead of seconds.

Cassia lingered, feeling as out of place as the rebel base itself. Her heart pounded against her ribs, an irregular rhythm that refused to settle. This was her fight too, wasn't it? She searched for her own place in the chaos, but every direction seemed to lead nowhere. A sudden roar from above made her duck, covering her ears as another explosion rocked the compound. She stumbled back, her shoulder striking the jagged rock. Panic rose like bile. She fought it down, refusing to let it choke her. Not now.

As the world tilted, Cassia felt something else rising. It was like a thread of warmth inside her, unspooling with a force that frightened and thrilled her at the same time. It surged through her body, whispering promises of power and control she barely understood. Her hands tingled, her pulse roared in her ears, her vision blurred with colors and light. Was she dying? Was she... alive?

A blast ripped through the perimeter, and a section of rock crumbled. There were shouts, fear in the voices that hadn't been there before. She didn't think. She didn't stop. She stepped into the open, and the energy took hold. It danced along her skin, filling her veins with fire and ice. Her hands blazed as she thrust them out, instinctively channeling the raw power through her fingertips.

A brilliant blue-white light exploded in front of her, curving into a barrier that deflected the incoming fire. There was no sound but the roar of power in her blood. No sight but the glare of light she had created. No feel but the overwhelming force surging through her. She could barely hold it. She couldn't let it go.

The rebels didn't know whether to stare or run. They whispered among themselves, voices laced with awe and disbelief. Dain's voice cut through again. "Regroup," he ordered. "Move!" They moved, energy rekindled by what they had seen. Cassia stood at the center of the storm, her own amazement mirroring theirs. This was power. This was impossible.

The air crackled and burned, hot and cold at once. Cassia felt herself growing weaker as the barrier held. Her skin was ice, her breath was fire, her heart a wild drumbeat. She wanted to scream. She wanted to laugh. She wanted to drop to her knees and weep at the beautiful terror of it all.

Her legs buckled, and she caught herself, lowering her hands. The light flickered but did not die. It stayed with her, its afterimage seared into her mind and soul. Her breath came in ragged gasps, and the world took shape around her again: rebels fighting with renewed fury, weapons fire illuminating the jungle, shouts and cries blending with the hum of ships and troops.

Cassia staggered back into the cover of the rocks, her body trembling from exhaustion and adrenaline. Her vision swam with color and light, and she blinked to clear it, to understand what she had done, what she had become. A rebel rushed past her, eyes wide with something between fear and gratitude. "What are you?" he asked, but didn't wait for an answer.

She leaned against the rock, her body slick with sweat and the chill of fear. Her mind was a chaos of disbelief and wonder. The battle raged around her, the rebels pushing back with growing confidence, the base illuminated by the clash of forces in the jungle. She had found her place in this fight. Whether she was ready or not.

If the sky and the ground swapped places, if the world turned upside down and inside out, if life suddenly became a child's crazy drawing—it would have looked just like this. Buildings looked like they belonged to another planet; rebels looked like they belonged to another species. Some of them did. No one looked like they belonged in the middle of a full-scale assault. Explosions landed closer than nightmares. Ships blazed brighter than hopes. The sky was on fire, and so was the ground. So was Cassia. The new recruits, the ones who called themselves Lord Matthias's elite, came through the jungle with weapons that glowed like stars and burned like lies. Cassia stood between them and the rest of the base. She stood between them and herself, and this time she didn't hesitate. She didn't even think. She didn't want to die. Her hands were light and fury and something else she was only starting to recognize. They were hope. The shockwave knocked her flat. It knocked her alive.

She lay still for a moment, the world around her a chaos of sound and light. Her body felt separate, a strange bundle of exhaustion and raw power she couldn't quite connect to. There were shouts, movement, weapons fire—then silence. The kind of silence that meant only one thing: The rebels were still alive.

Cassia pulled herself up, arms shaky, legs unsure. Her skin felt tight and electric, a sensation that sent her pulse racing and her head spinning. She'd done it again, only this time it was more than a protective shield. This time it was a wave, a burst, an explosion. A brilliant arc of energy had engulfed the soldiers and sent them flying back into the jungle. She'd never felt more terrified. She'd never felt more real.

All around her, the base buzzed with frenzied activity. Rebels scrambled to reinforce the weak points, each knowing their place and role. They ducked into the tangle of rock and building, eyes bright with determination and fear. A lone voice carried over the comms. "Heavy assault. They're not giving up." The ships came low and fast, casting shadows and fire as they unleashed more troops.

Cassia wanted to keep moving, keep fighting, but the effort left her drained and breathless. Her lungs burned like the jungle. Her muscles ached like promises. She stumbled back toward the command center, no longer sure where the fear ended and she began. The base shook with a new round of explosions. The shouts grew more desperate. She wasn't enough. She wasn't enough. She had to be.

She forced herself to keep moving, drawn toward the fighting as if it might swallow her whole. This time, she was ready to be devoured.

A troop of enemy soldiers swarmed through the breach, closer than she had expected. She backed up, surprised but not afraid. She knew what to do, and this time she was going to do it right. She raised her hands, and the world slowed to a quiet hum. She felt the energy, the life inside her, rushing to meet her fear and her fury. It sang in her ears and through her blood. It built to a terrible, wonderful crescendo. She let it loose in a flash of blue-white light, cutting the air and her doubts in half. The rebels fell back in awe. The soldiers fell back in retreat.

Cassia wasn't a bystander anymore. The base was alive with the pulsing glow of the jungle, the frantic rhythm of battle, and the promise of victory. She pushed forward, gaining confidence with each brilliant surge. She no longer felt alone.

Weapons fire struck nearby, a fiery arc that would have destroyed them all. Cassia deflected it without breaking her stride. The air was ozone and madness and the exhilarating breath of life. She moved through the compound, a blur of determination and newfound power. This was her fight, and she was going to win it.

She reached a group of defenders, and their skepticism melted in the bright, wild light she sent toward the next wave of troops. She was already moving again, strengthening weak spots, sending flashes of energy that repelled weapons fire and enemy soldiers alike. The jungle itself seemed to respond to her. It glowed brighter in her wake, a symphony of phosphorescent colors. She glowed brighter with it.

Cassia reached the command center, an alien outpost built into a massive tree trunk. Her breath came in ragged gasps. Her body screamed for rest. She refused to listen. A woman stood at the entrance, sharp eyes observing everything. Cassia had seen her before, in reports and grainy holos. She had called herself the Shadow Voice, but her people called her something else. They called her hope.

"You must be Commander Voss," Cassia said, struggling to contain both the power and the excitement inside her.

"And you must be the new recruit," Lyra Voss replied, skepticism and admiration in equal measure. "The one everyone's talking about."

A distant explosion marked the elite soldiers' relentless advance. "They're inside the perimeter!" a voice shouted. Cassia turned, her fatigue forgotten, her resolve new.

"I can stop them," she said, a hint of doubt shadowing the determination in her voice.

Lyra watched her, assessing. "So stop them."

Cassia's pulse raced with adrenaline and the sheer insanity of what she was about to do. The elite troops burst through the jungle, weapons bright as stars. Cassia met them head-on, fearlessly, maybe recklessly. She stood alone against them, a young woman with more power than sense.

She raised her hands, felt the familiar surge, the warmth and electricity, the terrifying joy of being alive. This time, she channeled the energy through the antique pin at her collar. The brilliant blue-white flash became a wave, a shockwave that sent her sprawling and the enemy reeling. They fell back, stumbling into the jungle, no longer the invincible force they believed themselves to be.

Cassia lay still, the world a blur of colors and exhaustion. She felt every breath, every beat of her heart. She felt the power she'd unleashed and the body it threatened to tear apart. Her lungs filled with jungle air, with life and ozone and the bitter tang of battle.

Slowly, she got to her feet. Rebels surrounded her, expressions shifting from disbelief to hope to cautious celebration. The enemy was retreating, but they all knew it wouldn't last. The Shadow Regent had many soldiers, and many more where those came from.

Lyra was suddenly beside her, an unreadable expression on her face. Respect, calculation, the kind of approval you give a stray animal that's learned a new trick. "So the rumors about the Blackthorn bloodline weren't exaggerated after all," she said, extending her hand to Cassia.

Cassia took it, trying to hide her trembling fingers and the dizzy, wondrous storm inside her. "I want to help," she said. "I don't know how, but I want to."

Lyra nodded, a brief flash of warmth in her otherwise inscrutable eyes. "I think you'll do just fine."

Cassia felt the cautious hope spreading among the rebels as they regrouped, rearmed, prepared for another attack. They moved with a new confidence, the kind born of unexpected victory and the belief that it might happen again. She had seen it in Dain's eyes when he called her back from fear. She saw it now, in the looks the rebels gave her, in the whispered words as they passed.

They were alive, if only for this moment. So was she.

The conference room had the kind of heavy silence you could only find in outer space. Everything was tense, and no one dared make a sound, not even the equipment. It sat idle and dark in a heap on the table, the only proof they were fighting a war instead of living a nightmare. The team of engineers couldn't take their eyes off it. They looked at it the way you'd look at a corpse you had to cut open. When the equipment did start making noise, it wasn't just a hum. It was a high-pitched shriek that didn't stop, didn't pause, didn't leave a chance for them to say it was no use, the power surge had fried everything and they were next. No one could think about the explosion or how it lit up the night like a hundred broken promises. They only thought of one thing: They should have gone to medical school.

Cassia had a different kind of silence to contend with. She sat among strangers, her heart still racing from the battle. She had faced worse than awkwardness, than distrust, than being the alien in a room full of alien species. But not often. Her mind buzzed with memories of power and exhaustion and light, a sweet and heady buzz she wasn't sure she wanted to come down from.

The war room was built beneath the roots of an enormous tree. Strange shadows played on the walls, a haunting and luminous dance. Maps and displays cluttered the space, showing the ugly sprawl of Matthias's forces across the galaxy. Some of the rebels didn't take their eyes off the displays. They looked at them the way you'd look at a bloodstain you had to scrub out. But most of them looked at Cassia. They stared like she was an explosive that could go off at any moment.

Lyra Voss sat at the far end of the table, her eyes steady, her voice precise. "Tell us how you did it."

Cassia met her gaze, though it took effort and a will stronger than her limbs felt at the moment. "I wish I could," she said. "I'm still learning."

"Are you a risk?" one of the lieutenants asked. She couldn't see who. The voice came from a wiry, reptilian figure to her left, an avian species to her right. It came from everywhere.

Cassia didn't flinch. "Probably," she said, honest and careful. "But not to you."

The air was thick with disbelief, with questions she couldn't answer. Lyra spoke again, sharp and cold as a blade. "And your loyalties?"

"My uncle is the risk," Cassia replied. "Not me."

A low hum filled the room. Not the shriek of broken equipment, not the sound of a thousand promises exploding. The sound of skepticism, of a rebel force unsure whether to trust or to run. Lyra's eyes didn't leave Cassia's face. "The heir to the Blackthorn bloodline," she said, half a question, half an accusation.

Cassia knew her name was a burden, a bomb waiting to go off. She took a breath, not deep, not easy. "He never even gave me his name."

The memory of power lingered in her veins like an addict's first high. It frightened and thrilled her in equal measure. She spoke with more confidence than sense, as if words could do what the light had done: knock them all back in surprise and make them believe. "What you saw out there—that's all I know."

Dain stood nearby, more weapon than man. He'd been silent since the battle, since his first orders, since she surprised him and everyone else. His eyes were on her, but his thoughts were a universe away.

Cassia's own thoughts ran faster than her exhausted body could keep up with. She spoke again, forcing the words past her doubts. "I may not know everything about this war or my place in it, but I know what I saw today. People fighting for freedom against impossible odds. I want to help. If you'll let me."

The war room hummed with tension. Lyra Voss watched, calculating, deciding whether Cassia was an asset or a liability, whether her display was courage or insanity. Cassia didn't let herself blink. Didn't let herself breathe. She couldn't.

"I was sent to find you," Dain said suddenly. His voice was a dark echo of her own fear.

A ripple of shock passed through the room. It was the first time they'd heard him speak. It was the first time he'd said more than he had to.

"Originally to deliver you to your uncle," he added, and the ripple became a wave.

Cassia kept her gaze on Lyra. The truth should have left her breathless, left her speechless, left her reeling. She refused to let it. "Dain found me," she said, steady, stronger than she felt. "You can trust him. You can trust us both."

Dain didn't reply. His eyes, his silence, his guilt spoke for him. Cassia reached for his hand, a touch so slight the others might have missed it. She hoped they did. They didn't need to know everything. Just enough to believe.

Rebel leaders shifted in their seats, some swayed by Cassia's sincerity, others waiting for the moment she'd explode. She saw hope in some eyes, anger in others, a waiting game in them all.

"The Blackthorn heir," a voice said. "The Shadow Regent's niece."

"His mistake," Cassia replied, an edge to her voice she didn't know she had.

Another lieutenant spoke, the words blunt and distrustful. "And you think you can win this war for us?"

She shook her head, not with denial but with defiance. "Not alone. But I can help."

The sound in the room changed, not a hum, not disbelief, not accusation. It was the sound of a decision waiting to be made. Cassia felt the weight of it settle on her shoulders. It was heavier than she expected, but it didn't crush her. She wasn't alone.

Lyra finally nodded, a short, sharp motion that said more than words could have. "You know how to make an entrance," she said. "Let's see if you know how to keep your head down."

The room relaxed, the sound of uncertainty shifting to the sound of reluctant acceptance. The sound of rebels finding cautious hope in a young woman who wasn't sure who she was, but who was sure of what she wanted.

Cassia felt the lingering sensations of power, of fear, of exhaustion mingle inside her like a potent, unfamiliar cocktail. It was madness. It was exhilarating. It was going to kill her or save her or maybe both.

The meeting concluded with a flurry of whispers and new loyalties and unspoken doubts. The rebels dispersed, some talking, some silent, some not looking at Cassia at all. She sat still, breathless and alive. Dain remained close, his tension a solid thing she could almost touch.

"I don't know what I'm doing," she confessed, half to him, half to the chaos inside her.

"We'll find out," he replied, and his voice was both a comfort and a warning.

As the room emptied, Cassia watched the displays, the maps, the flickering lights that marked Lord Matthias's empire. He was a distant constellation, but getting closer by the second. She wondered what he'd do when she started burning bright enough for him to notice. The rebels would find out. She would find out.

They had no idea what to expect, but one thing was certain. They couldn't ignore her now.

The tides obeyed different moons here. They flooded Cassia's mind with dreams as foreign as the jungle. Dreams of family, of power, of freedom, of flight. She could hear the waves crashing around her. She could feel herself floating, weightless and insubstantial. When she reached for solid ground, all she found was Dain: rigid, uncertain, afraid. "I was sent to find you," he said. "To deliver you to your uncle." Her heart was an explosion in the silent night. The truths came like aftershocks. They knocked her flat, but they didn't knock her down. She listened as the confession became a promise. She was more alive than she'd ever been.

Dain stood alone on a platform high in the bioluminescent canopy, his silhouette sharp against the surreal sea of light below. He was as rigid as the trees around him, multiple moons casting strange colors through the foliage. The jungle pulsed and glowed with eerie beauty, alive with possibility. Cassia was as weightless as the dreams that pulled her through the night. The world seemed to shrink, to twist, to become a sphere where she was the only one off its surface. The center held. The center was Dain.

"You were incredible today," he said as she approached. His voice was tight with emotion, but not tight enough to hide what she already knew: He wasn't sure they could cross the distance between them.

Cassia didn't pause. "You too," she replied, reaching for him with words, with touch, with the hope that he could feel them.

He stiffened at her closeness, an involuntary reaction that stung more than any weapon. "You shouldn't trust me," he said. "Not yet. Not until you know what I am."

She took another step, not letting him push her away, not this time. "I know what you are," she said, a flash of defiance brightening her voice. "I know who you are."

Dain turned to face her, his eyes searching, pleading, a storm of guilt and something deeper. Something raw. "Not everything," he said, the words a confession and a cry for absolution.

"Then tell me," she insisted, close enough to feel the heat and tension radiating from him.

It was like opening old wounds. It was like healing. It was like neither of them knew which it would be.

"The Blackthorn heir," he said, repeating the accusation the others had hurled at her.

She let it pass through her like light. She let it break into a thousand colors and fall away. "Tell me something I don't know."

He exhaled, a sound that was almost a growl, almost a sigh, almost a surrender. "I was created," he began, the words low and painful. "Engineered. They designed me to be a weapon first, a person second."

She wanted to interrupt, to say it didn't matter, to close the distance, to show him. She waited, feeling the waves crash around them, the soundless roar of moons and memories.

"A genetically modified soldier," Dain continued. "A werewolf with the mind of a man and the instincts of a beast."

He paused, and Cassia's breath stopped with him. It felt like a lifetime, but it was less than a heartbeat. She knew. She knew what came next.

He spoke the truth anyway, because there was no going forward without it. "I was sent to find you. To deliver you to your uncle."

Cassia's heart was an explosion in the silent night. It echoed with fear and hope and betrayal and forgiveness. It knocked her flat, but it didn't knock her down. "And now?" she asked, and her voice didn't tremble, even if she did.

"Now I don't know who I am," he said. "Or who I'm supposed to be. Except that I want to be something more than what they made me."

Her heart didn't stop exploding, and neither did her spirit. She heard everything in his words that he couldn't say. "You're not a weapon, Dain. Not to me."

He turned away, ashamed, afraid, exposed in a way that made her want to hold him and never let go. She held him with words, with the truth of her own.

"We all have pasts we didn't choose," she said, reaching out, touching his arm, a touch that was as much for her as it was for him. "It's what we do now that matters."

The jungle glowed and swayed around them, but they stood still, the center of their own universe, their own choices. Cassia felt his hesitation melt into warmth, into closeness, into the belief that maybe he could trust her after all.

He turned back, the distance between them shrinking to nothing. "You should have run the other way."

"Too late," she said, and the defiant spark in her eyes became a steady, beautiful flame.

They were quiet for a while, but the silence didn't pull them apart. It wrapped them closer, an unspoken promise of loyalty, of understanding, of something neither had found before.

"It's why I left," Dain said, the words a rumble against the backdrop of alien life and light. "Before the battle. I couldn't tell you then. I didn't know how."

"And now you do," Cassia replied, no accusation in her voice, only hope and relief and the crazy thrill of being alive. "You came back."

"I came back," he agreed, and it was a vow, a promise, a binding of his fate to hers.

She felt the center hold. She felt herself hold. She felt everything in the universe shift around them as they stood together, more certain of each other than they'd ever been of themselves. She stepped closer, impossibly, impossibly close. "That's the only thing I care about."

The moons colored the jungle in layers of light and shadow. The light wrapped them like a second skin. The shadows held nothing but love. It was a foreign sky and a foreign place, but Cassia had never felt so at home.

They stood together in the midst of it, in the strange beauty and pulsing life of an alien world, in the newness and rawness and certainty of what they were. Cassia could still feel the distant explosion, the faraway shock of power that she thought would destroy her and didn't. It was the kind of blast you only lived through if you were lucky, if you were careful, if you were brave. They were all of those things, and more.

Dain touched her hand, tentative, then sure. "This war, this rebellion—if you don't want to stay, I won't stop you from leaving."

She shook her head, fierce, playful, entirely herself. "If you're staying, so am I."

He pulled her into an embrace that was neither gentle nor hesitant, but something far better: real. "Then we're both insane."

"Then we both have something to live for," she replied, feeling the wild thrum of her heart and his, the life around them, the life they found in each other.

The jungle whispered its approval, a chorus of colors and lights, a symphony of hope. The world they knew nothing about opened wide, a vast and endless sea of dreams and possibilities. They plunged into it without fear.

The waves could crash and the tides could pull, but Cassia and Dain wouldn't drift apart. Not this time.

If the galaxy had a voice, Cassia wouldn't have known how to hear it. She was learning. She was learning how to find the places where silence gave way to sound, where sound became hope, where hope was as real as the stars. It was a language she was only beginning to speak. The rebels, those who didn't know how to listen yet, spoke over each other with the kind of despair that made its own music. She understood their doubts. She understood herself more. It was the first time she'd felt sure of anything. She wanted them to feel it too.

The base buzzed with tension the next morning, and not the kind you get from weapons fire or the threat of immediate death. It was the sound of news, of stories that spread like gossip and bloomed into something bigger. The news was this: Cassia and Dain were allies, not enemies. Some believed it. Some believed they were better off hiding in the nearest crater.

Commander Lyra Voss called a gathering of all rebel forces. Hundreds of fighters assembled in a natural amphitheater formed by massive tree roots. The setting was both grand and impossible, like the rest of the alien world. Like Cassia's place in it.

She and Dain stood together at the front of the gathering. She should have felt alone. She should have felt afraid. She didn't. "The Shadow Regent's niece," someone muttered, and the words cut into her confidence. The words cut into everything.

Lyra raised her hand for silence, her voice commanding, her presence as solid as the roots that surrounded them. "Listen," she said, the single word both order and plea.

The rebels didn't obey. They spoke over each other with anger and suspicion and the kind of despair that made its own music. Lyra let them talk themselves into a frenzy, the noise growing and crashing like waves. Cassia knew how it felt to be carried off by those waves. It wasn't a bad feeling. It left you with one choice: Fight back.

She took a step forward, the move as natural as her new powers, as instinctive as the words that came next.

"I know what you're all thinking," Cassia said, her voice unsteady but stronger than she'd hoped. "And you're right. My father was Blackthorn. My uncle is Matthias. My bloodline is a curse, but it's not who I am."

The crowd hushed, a breathless, waiting hush. Cassia had been here before, among strangers who didn't trust her, didn't know her, didn't need to. The first time she'd spoken to them like this, she'd been afraid. This time she was fearless.

"I don't ask you to follow me because of who my father was," she continued. "Judge me by what I do, by the fight we share."

A particularly vocal critic, a young fighter with green skin and three arms, called out. "Words are easy. Blood is blood."

"And fire is fire," Cassia shot back, the same edge in her voice that had silenced Lyra's doubts. "Does anyone think I held back against Matthias's troops?"

The crowd murmured, a ripple of agreement and uncertainty, a sea of skepticism and dawning belief. Cassia stood firm, the words and the doubt and the crazy, wonderful hope filling her until she thought she might explode.

Dain stayed at her side, his silent presence a more powerful endorsement than anything he could have said. He let Cassia's voice be the loudest, the clearest, the one that mattered. She knew it cost him. She loved him for it.

More rebels spoke, each voice rising like a challenge, each word a knife meant to cut through her resolve. Cassia didn't let them. She met every doubt with a new truth, with a confidence that built like the blue-white light she had unleashed the day before.

"What if it's a trick?" someone yelled. "What if Matthias sent you?"

"He did," Cassia replied, knowing the answer would shock them, knowing it was the only answer that would save them. "But not for this."

A small voice from the back, almost lost in the murmurs and chaos: "I thought she was a ghost story."

"So did I," Cassia said, her voice reaching them all, weaving them together with the magic of sound, the new language of the galaxy. "Then I found out what stories can do. They brought me here. They can keep us all alive."

The rebel forces looked at her, saw the rawness and truth in her words, saw what Lyra had seen: A young woman who might be more than she seemed, who might save them, who might just save herself.

"She's Blackthorn's blood," a hard-faced veteran muttered. "She's his heir."

Cassia faced them all, knowing she couldn't win every battle with words, but knowing she couldn't lose every one, either. "And that terrifies him," she said, the flame inside her burning with certainty. "It should terrify him."

Dain chose that moment to speak, and it was exactly the right moment. "I was sent to find her," he said, repeating the truth they'd learned together. "She should have run. Instead she saved us all."

Cassia's heart was an explosion in the silent amphitheater. Her fear was real, but so was the new confidence she found in his voice, in his words, in him.

"She didn't run," Lyra echoed, picking up where Dain left off, a conspirator in Cassia's crime of hope. "We'd be fools to run from her."

The rebels began to quiet, the sound of uncertainty turning to something else, something like belief, like trust, like the bright, blinding light that Cassia felt in every cell of her body.

Lyra concluded the gathering with an announcement, her voice loud, sure, the voice of a leader with a new plan. "We're incorporating Cassia and Dain into our campaign. The Shadow Regent has ruled through fear for too long. Now, for the first time, we have hope."

The crowd's reaction wasn't a cheer. It wasn't a rallying cry. It was something better: The soft, sweet sound of cautious optimism. It was everything Cassia had hoped to hear.

The gathering ended, but the rebels didn't disperse. They approached Cassia, one by one, in small groups and cautious pairs. They shared stories of suffering under Matthias's regime, stories that became their own kind of light. Cassia listened, overwhelmed, breathless, more alive than she'd ever been.

Dain stood close, protective, proud, letting her be everything she didn't know she could be. She loved him for that too.

The responsibility settled on her shoulders, heavier than she expected, more beautiful than she dreamed. She was a symbol to these people, and it terrified her as much as it thrilled her. The terror and the thrill blended together, leaving her with only one feeling she could hold onto. Hope.

"We're in this," she said, repeating her words from the night before, feeling the world change around them, inside them. "We're insane, and we're in this."

"And we're going to win," Dain replied, the steady, certain belief in his voice enough to carry them all through the explosion that was sure to come.

The galaxy had a voice, and Cassia knew how to hear it. She spoke the language, she sang the song, and this time she listened to the sound of everything she didn't know how to dream.