That evening the Ghostings gathered; men and women and musawa. Their anger brewed and bubbled and popped. They took their scythes and knives and fists to the walls of the Wardens’ Keep.
Another elder came forward and spoke through the gates.
“We lay down our anger at your feet. We ask for dignity. We ask for equality of opportunity. We ask for our freedom.”
And so the Ghostings dropped the weapons they had brought to reap, forging a barricade of metal no Ember could leave.
The wardens laughed from their towers and called down below.
“You ask for dignity, yet you drop your arms. You ask for equality of opportunity, yet your blood has no power. You ask for freedom, but you are our captors.”
And so the Siege of the Silent began.
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Two mooncycles they protested. Two mooncycles they tried, peacefully, to influence change.
Now you wanted a villain? I’ll give you a thousand.
Though the wardens were locked away, they had their guilds do their bidding. Over days and weeks they recruited foot soldiers and trained them.
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A thousand soldiers marched on the Ghostings and cut them down.
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Carved the rebels out of existence.
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And so the first warden army was made, quelling any dissent in the empire forever more.
What of the Ghostings? You know how it ends. With scars and servitude.
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And silence.