MORTAL FREEDOM

The camp was unusually quiet that night, a tension hanging in the air as the rebel's awaited news. Lanterns flickered weakly, casting long shadows over tired faces. People whispered among themselves, wondering if the boy with the surge Wilson was the key to salvation or a harbinger of doom.

The stillness was broken by the roar of an approaching vehicle. Heads turned as a Ministry transport, battered and dusty, rolled into the camp's clearing. A gasp rippled through the crowd as Jayce leapt from the vehicle before it had even stopped, his two companions, Elias and Mira, close behind.

"It's Jayce!" someone shouted, and relief swept through the gathered rebels.

The camp quickly erupted into cheers. Rebels rushed forward to greet him, some clapping him on the back, others raising their weapons in salute. Jayce, though, raised a hand, his expression grave.

"Stop!" he commanded, his voice cutting through the din. The crowd quieted immediately, sensing the urgency in his tone. "There's no time for celebrations. We've been exposed."

THE WARNING

Jayce climbed onto a crate to address the gathered rebels. His face was illuminated by the flickering light of the campfires, his features tight with exhaustion and worry.

"The Ministrians know where we are," he began, his voice steady but grim. "Dominic himself has ordered an army to march on this camp. They know about Wilson, and they'll stop at nothing to capture him and to destroy us."

A murmur spread through the crowd, panic creeping into their voices. Questions flew in every direction.

"How much time do we have?"

"Did they see you leaving?"

"Where will we go?"

Jayce raised his hands to calm them. "We estimate they'll be here within two days. Maybe less if they're moving quickly. We need to evacuate the camp immediately."

"But where will we go?" an older rebel asked. "This forest has been our home for years. We've fortified it. We can defend it."

Jayce shook his head. "You don't understand. This isn't just a scouting party. This is an army. thousands of soldiers, with advanced weaponry and orders to raze everything in their path. We can't fight them not here, not like this."

"But we're leaving behind everything," another rebel said, his voice trembling. "We've built this camp from nothing."

Jayce's expression softened. "I know how much this place means to all of you. But if we stay, we won't have a chance to rebuild anywhere else. The Ministrians will destroy us, and all of this will be for nothing."

The crowd fell into a tense silence. Slowly, heads began to nod, though many faces were still lined with fear and uncertainty.

 A PRIVATE CONVERSATION

After addressing the camp, Jayce walked with his father, Mr. Brian, toward the leader's cabin. The two men were silent for a while, the weight of the situation pressing down on both of them.

Inside the cabin, Brian sat heavily at the wooden table, his hands steep led beneath his chin. "You did well out there," he said finally. "They trust you."

Jayce didn't respond immediately. Instead, he leaned against the wall, his arms crossed. "Do you think this will work? Moving the entire camp? If the Ministrians track us"

"They won't," Brian interrupted, though his tone was more confident than his eyes. "You were careful. If we leave before dawn, we can put enough distance between us and them."

Jayce nodded, but he still looked troubled. After a moment, he said, "I want to speak to him."

Brian raised an eyebrow. "The boy?"

Jayce's jaw tightened. "The one who holds the surge. If we're risking everything because of him, I need to know what kind of person we're dealing with."

Brian considered for a moment, then nodded. "He's in his cabin. But keep your temper in check. We need unity now more than ever."

Jayce left without a word, his mind racing. As he approached Wilson's cabin, he saw faint light leaking through the cracks in the wooden walls. He pushed open the door without knocking, and what he saw stopped him in his tracks.

CONFRONTATION

Wilson and Sara-fin sat close together on a makeshift bench, their hands intertwined. They were deep in conversation, their voices soft. Wilson was smiling at something Sara-fin had said, and she was looking at him with an expression Jayce recognized immediately: admiration.

"Sara-fin," he said sharply, his voice cutting through the room like a blade.

Both Wilson and Sara-fin turned, startled. Sara-fin stood quickly, her cheeks flushing. "Jayce! You're here!"

Jayce's eyes narrowed. "That's what you have to say? I've just risked my life to warn the camp, and you didn't even come out to greet me because you were busy with him?"

"Jayce, that's not fair," Sara-fin said, stepping toward him. "I was going to come see you. I just "

"You just what?" Jayce snapped, his glare shifting to Wilson. "Decided to spend your time with him instead? The boy who's put all of us in danger?"

Wilson stood, his expression calm but firm. "I didn't ask for any of this," he said. "I didn't choose to have the surge. I'm doing everything I can to help."

Jayce took a step closer, his anger barely contained. "Help? You think flying around like a glowing beacon is helping? Do you know how many people will die because the Ministrians want you?"

"That's enough!" Sara-fin said, stepping between them. Her voice was sharp, but her expression was pleading. "This isn't his fault, Jayce. And fighting each other isn't going to solve anything."

Jayce looked at his sister, then at Wilson. Finally, he let out a long breath, stepping back. "Fine. But both of you need to pack. We're moving camp before sunrise."

He turned and left without another word, the door slamming shut behind him.

THE RELOCATION

The camp was a flurry of activity long before dawn. Rebels packed what they could carry, dismantling tents and gathering supplies. Wagons and carts were loaded with weapons, food, and medical supplies, while scouts were sent ahead to ensure the path north was clear.

Wilson worked alongside Sara-fin, helping load crates onto one of the larger carts. He could feel the tension in the air, the fear and uncertainty etched into every face. He caught glimpses of Jayce in the crowd, giving orders and helping where he was needed. Despite their earlier confrontation, Wilson couldn't help but respect the man's determination.

By the time the first light of dawn crept over the horizon, the camp was ready to move. Brian stood at the front of the convoy, his expression grim but resolute.

"We head north," he said, his voice carrying over the murmurs of the crowd. "Stay together. Stay quiet. And stay strong. We've survived worse than this, and we'll survive this too."

With that, the convoy began to move, the rebels falling into line behind the wagons. Wilson walked near the middle of the group, his senses alert for any sign of danger. Beside him, Sara-fin walked in silence, her hand brushing against his occasionally as they navigated the uneven forest floor.

 THE HIDDEN THREAT

Unbeknownst to the rebels, a small group of Ministry scouts had already been dispatched to track them. These scouts, clad in black and equipped with advanced technology, moved like shadows through the trees, careful to stay out of sight.

The lead scout, a grizzled veteran named Kroll, signaled for his team to halt. He crouched low, observing the convoy through a pair of binoculars. His lips curled into a faint smile.

"They're heading north," he murmured to his team. "Report back to Lord Dominic. Tell him we've found them."

THE NEXT CAMP

After hours of walking, the rebels finally reached a dense section of forest that Brian deemed suitable for their new camp. The area was secluded, surrounded by natural barriers of rocky hills and thick undergrowth. As the rebels began to set up tents and fortify their position, Wilson felt a faint sense of relief.

But that relief was short-lived. The memory of Jayce's warning lingered in his mind, and he couldn't shake the feeling that the Ministrians would come for them, no matter where they went.