Chains of Divinity

Beyond the command tent's shadow, where generals plotted wars and mages wielded cosmic power, the common soldiers of Kael's army carved out their own pieces of normalcy. At a firepit near the mess tent, four soldiers played cards while their evening stew cooled.

"Three kings," Mira declared, slapping her cards down. The former tavern keeper's daughter had joined after divine soldiers burned her village for harboring "heretics." Now she ran odds games that kept morale up between battles.

"Bullshit," Tom growled, but his grin betrayed him. The grizzled veteran had lost three fingers to frostbite during their last campaign, but he could still shuffle cards better than anyone in camp. "You've been winning too much tonight."

Sara lingered at the edge of the firelight, clutching her bowl of stew, watching the game with hungry eyes. She'd been in camp three weeks now, but still felt like a stranger among these hardened warriors.

"Better at cheating, maybe," Rica chimed in, setting down her bowl. She was young but deadly—could shoot a divine warrior's eye out at three hundred paces. "I saw you palm that card."

"Prove it," Mira challenged, then called out without looking up, "You going to stand there all night, girl? The fire's warmer up close."

Sara took a hesitant step forward. "I... I don't want to interrupt."

"Ha!" Tom barked a laugh that made her flinch. "Listen to her. So polite. You're in Kael's army now, girl. Nobody gives a damn about manners here."

"I know how to play cards," Sara offered, lifting her chin. "My father taught me—"

"Your father?" Rica's voice dripped mockery. "Was he a divine warrior? A holy priest? Or just another farmer who thought—"

"Children, please," sighed Karn, the fourth member of their regular game. He'd been a village blacksmith before the gods marked his family for "purification." Now he worked the void-forges, but he still found time each evening for cards with his makeshift family. "Some of us are trying to lose our wages in peace."

Their banter was interrupted by a commotion from the supply tent. Two soldiers were arguing over the day's rations.

"My unit was promised extra portions!" The larger man's face was red with anger. "We've got night watch all week!"

"And my people just got back from a three-day patrol," the supply officer shot back. "Everyone's hungry. Everyone's tired. You'll get your share like everyone else."

Before the argument could escalate, Mira was on her feet. "Hey! Marcus still owes me coin from last week's game. Why don't you both join us? Winner gets first pick of tomorrow's rations."

The tension broke. Soon both men were caught up in the game, while Sara watched them deal, her hands fidgeting with her own meager coins.

"Well, come on then," Mira patted the ground beside her. "Show us what a farmer's daughter can do."

The first few rounds were brutal. They caught every mistake, laughed at every fumble. When Sara tried to bluff, Tom saw right through her.

"Your face is an open book, girl," he chuckled, collecting another pot. "You'll never survive like that."

"I'll learn," Sara insisted, counting out her dwindling coins.

"That's the third fight you've stopped this week," Rica noted quietly to Mira.

Mira shrugged. "Better than letting them break each other. We get enough of that from the gods' lackeys."

As the night grew colder, Tom pulled out his battered fiddle. The instrument was missing strings, but he'd replaced them with gut and wire, creating a haunting sound that carried through the camp. Other soldiers gathered, bringing what instruments they had—drums made from shield-backs, flutes carved from enemy arrow shafts, a harp strung with stolen divine silver.

When Rica made another crack about farmers, Sara finally snapped back: "At least I know which end of a plow to hold. Bet you've never grown anything but that chip on your shoulder."

The fire went deadly quiet. Then Tom burst out laughing, slapping his knee with his maimed hand. "By the void! The girl's got teeth after all!"

Even Rica cracked a smile. "Not bad, farm girl. Not bad at all."

As voices joined Tom's melody, more gathered around their fire. Veterans with void-marks sat shoulder to shoulder with fresh recruits. A battle-mage who could shatter divine shields hummed along while patching a torn boot. One of Seraphine's deadly agents appeared silently to listen, her usual cold demeanor softening as the music wound through the night.

To Sara's surprise, Mira leaned over and started teaching her the words. "This one's important," she whispered. "It's about the first time Kael broke divine chains. Everyone needs to know it."

"Why are you helping me now?" Sara asked.

"You proved something tonight," Mira replied. "Not by winning—you're still terrible at cards. But by staying. By fighting back. That's what we do here. We stay. We fight. We survive."

"Together," Karn added, his deep voice joining the chorus.

Sara felt warmth that had nothing to do with the fire. As the song rose into the night sky, other voices joined in. Even Rica taught her the hand gestures that went with certain verses.

"Sometimes I forget," Rica whispered, her earlier mockery forgotten. "That we're more than just soldiers. That we're still... people."

"That's why they'll never truly beat us," Mira replied, dealing another hand. "The gods see armies and weapons. But we're just folk trying to live free. And that's worth fighting for."

Tom started another song, this one carrying all their hopes and fears in its melody. Above them, stars wheeled in their ancient paths, uncaring of the struggles below. But around that simple fire, with cards and music and shared meals, Kael's soldiers—old and new, veteran and recruit—found something the gods could never quite crush.

They found family.