It was dark when they left. The sun of Meridian had descended and the old moon appeared, still aging though it was only a half moon. It dimly lit the forests as they stumbled through, some of the platoon holding torches while others; who had adapted to the darkness, relied on their eyesight. Caleb was one of those people. After an abrupt end to his childhood, he had learned to adapt to most situations. Walking through dim-lit forest being one of them.

Their approach through the forest was short-lived as they stopped at a large man-hole in the ground near a well. The well was on a stone slab, having been made by the first rebels of the rebellion. But the man-hole, covered by a metal grate, was made a few years ago. It lead through a sewage system to the palace. It seemed the safest route, considering they were moving a mass of twelve men; a platoon of nine, Lionel their scout, Aldarn and himself, and while the platoon wasn't well known, Aldarn and himself were and the other rebels would easily be linked up with them and arrested. Lionel fixed them with a grin as he gestured to the hole, pulling away the metal circle and barely resisting the urge to slam a hand over his mouth and nose and run. "After you."

****Rebel Fire****

Caleb quickly crouched behind a nearby tree, the other members of the platoon following his tactics. He silently adjusted the dark leather strap of his sword's sheathe that ran across his shoulders, messing with it for a moment before he was comfortable with it and its accessibility. His arm was still itching, but he avoided scratching it. It burned like it was on fire, like someone was rubbing salt into healing wounds; infecting them. But it was easily ignored. He glanced at his men behind him, all between their early twenties to late forties, before he returned his gaze to the large building before them. Tall and looming, the castle was surrounded by dark clouds in a swirling green-black sky. It seemed to be the definition of creepy and intimidating but Caleb didn't mind. The only thing that irritated him about the castle, was not only the many different corridors and levels that had to be memorized, but the many gardens and the odd flowers in them. Some flowers were just that; flowers. But others spoke or moved or alerted Phobos to the enemy's presence. The one flower in particular, that always caught Caleb, being the murmurers. They were everywhere in the gardens and spread their reach around most parts of the castle, excluding this wall; the west, and the south. Though the south had other means of protection, this wall was almost always available to their raids as a means of entry, but it was rarely used. We should use it more, he thought. It was so far, clear of guards, a foolish move, but a helpful one. This would make entering the castle much easier.

The rebels were drenched and smelled completely rank; utterly disgusting to even the most ridiculous and awful of Meridian's creatures. A sewage system that ran from the palace had been Lionel's trick to get them here, and while it was effective and quick which was appreciated, it frustrated the brunette to no end. He was about to, hopefully, meet the red headed maiden that had occupied his mind every moment of day and night, who'd ensnared him in her trap; her web, with merely her personality and voice, and he smelled worse than the passling traders, who bathed in garbage dumps and the most peculiar places of filth. It wasn't the most ideal thing, and definitely wasn't his choice, but he had no other way to enter than as he was. Studying the palace wall with trained eyes, Caleb quickly spotted a barred window that disappeared into the mud of the palace mote's bank. Exactly how Lionel had described for once. "Lionel," he heard Aldarn whisper, the boy studying the palace as well. Caleb had learned in recent years that Aldarn often noted some of his habits before adopting them, making sure he knew as much as Caleb. It amused him that he was such a role model for Aldarn, yet he himself thought he was still unintelligible, unknowing to more than he should be. He drew himself from his thoughts to listen in to the conversations around him, quickly fixing himself on Lionel and Aldarn's. He almost smirked at the look of fear no doubt present on Lionel's face as he heard the familiar sound of clothing being gripped by firm fists and irritance lacing Aldarn's voice as he hissed, "It's barred."

The young man chuckled, humoured, it appeared, before shaking his head. "The bars are loose, you can pull them away." Caleb nodded, though he knew Lionel wasn't addressing him and glared at the river of still water that separated them from the stone building. He was re-evaluating all of his past raids, thinking of any security on this side of the palace other than the guards covering the walls and battlements. "How d' we get across?" an older man wondered, causing the others to nod, "Rumour says there's a beast in there! It's said not a man lives past its snappin' jaws! That it turns ya to stone if it don't eat ya first!" Caleb restrained himself from laughing. It wasn't true. But the fear in the man's voice and the mumbled variations of agreement told him they believed it. Such a creature did exist; Caleb had seen it during his many raids of the palace. But it couldn't turn you to stone, and it was easily avoided. Any man could survive. "Such a beast is only on the southern line of the palace, the most accessible and least protected." Caleb stated, though he knew he hadn't eased their minds as much as he wanted to. "It does not leave the southern face of the castle to defend any other part." He excluded his knowledge of its abilities. Maybe it was better to leave them wary. That way they wouldn't underestimate it or any other of the Prince's security and allies. The creature was huge, fish-like, with a large body and snapping jaws as rumour told, and had attempted to swallow him on many occasions, but it resided in the watery depths and rarely surfaced. But rebels were cocky by nature, or at least, most who Caleb had led were cocky. That was why men were lost to the rebellion, because their cockiness ruled them. Maybe leaving these men worried and humble, scared, would keep them from the same fate. "So are we safe?"

Caleb didn't answer; he chose not to. Actions did, after all, speak louder than words. Instead he waded into the water, waist deep and stood for several seconds. When nothing happened he smiled lightly at the others and motioned for them to follow him with a simple hand gesture as he continued across, scrambling towards the window and fiddling with the bars. Huge pieces of cylindrical iron that shook in place, wobbling, barred the windows. "He's right," Caleb acknowledged as he continued to mess with the bars until they were what he deemed, loose enough. The rebels gathered around him in a deformed semi-circle as he harshly pulled the bar in hand, causing it to be yanked out of place, embedding itself into the mud bank as Lionel smiled smugly.

"See," he grinned, "I told you so." Caleb groaned. Of course in his team, there was Lionel. The one thing that seemed to have escaped his mind about the boy was that he reeked of desperation to prove himself. And when he succeeded, he grew immensely cocky, so much so that his ego combatted the Prince's. But nevertheless Caleb nodded his agreement, standing up from his crouch and gesturing to the bars with his hand as he addressed the scout. Out of all the rebels present, Lionel was the cleanest. The scout looked confused by the gesture, glancing at the dirt and grime that encased each bar and the mud that coated the window area with an expression of severe distaste and disgust. "Well then, Lionel," Caleb stated, "please, remove the other bars."

****Rebel Fire****

Lionel had yet to recover from the feeling of dirt underneath his fingernails, something that amused the rebels greatly, as his grey eyes remained large, almost out of proportion with his face. Caleb would've laughed as well, had he not gone completely serious upon entering the cold stone hell. Aldarn knew Caleb's guard was raised, having seen him remove a small dagger from the back of his belt and spin it around in his hands, and had told the others to follow suit and be alert. They did so without question, seeing Caleb's actions themselves and knowing that his instincts were as legendary as his art skills, signature trench coat and fighting capability.

They were being led by Lionel, though he chose to remain spaced out and shocked, much to their displeasure. The scout now stood behind Caleb who had taken the front position in the group, raising his dagger in precaution as they neared a corner. Rounding it, they were relieved to see no guards, only two staircases with hard steps and no banisters; one going up and the other going down. Turning to Lionel, they awaited their directions seeing as he had led them thus far, but were surprised when Caleb answered. Jabbing his thumb behind him as he faced the group he explained, "Down there is where the dungeons are, in the belly of the castle," he turned, pointing at the other staircase with one hand, his hands encased in fingerless leather gloves, he gripped his dagger in the same hand, "Up there is another staircase that winds towards the Guards' tower. The armoury is up there." Where I'm heading, he mentally added. He said it with such confidence, self-assurance and force that the rebels didn't dare consider doubting his directions or memory. Caleb was their leader; he would never lead them astray. He was loyal. He would always be loyal. Or so they thought.

They started down the stairs, Lionel leading with a calming facial expression as he was slowly released from his shock of the dirt and Aldarn tailing them, keeping watch for guards. It wasn't unknown for the guards to show up late to their shifts or do surprise sweeps of the area. The boy turned around to ask Caleb something when he realized his companion wasn't following. Quickly, he clambered back up the stairs and saw Caleb peacefully stalking up the steps to the armoury. "Caleb," he hissed, trailing after him, "stop!" Caleb spun around, an irritated expression on his face, highlighted by the torch light making him look more cold and intimidating than the castle itself. "Yes?" he enquired. He cocked an eyebrow as Aldarn stared at him incredulously. "Where are you going?" he exasperated as Caleb glanced over his shoulder at the staircase. "The armoury," it was stated as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. Which, of course, to him it was. It occurred to him, that while he trekked away from the group in search of the girl, he might as well do something that benefitted the rebellion. More rebels meant they needed more weapons. It was simple. And once he explained it to Aldarn, he seemed to agree too. It was simple. Maybe too simple, but who was he to judge?

"Okay," Aldarn conceded, sighing as his shoulders sagged. He could tell there was something Caleb was hiding, though he expected it was only something small, not that important. What he didn't understand was, that to Caleb, she was very important. The one reason why Caleb hadn't told Aldarn, other than the fact that he, as well as the rebellion, would be outraged Caleb had become infatuated with the enemy, was because he knew Aldarn wouldn't understand.

Aldarn would tell him to find a partner in the rebellion; that one girl was the same as the next. But it wasn't like that, he couldn't find a partner in the rebellion. And it wasn't true that one girl was the same as the next. Because if that were true, one; he wouldn't have liked the red head in the first place, just as he hadn't liked any other girl, and two; that meant that any girl could've captured his heart and he would've moved on. But he hadn't. He couldn't. He didn't see the appeal in the other girls, not the same appeal he found in this girl, this red-headed saint; angel, who took away the darkness that was his loneliness. But Aldarn wouldn't understand. He'd never felt that way.

So, he decided, once he rid himself of Aldarn, he would sneak into the armoury, grab some weapons, maybe throw a few barrels out the window for Aldarn and the others to collect and then he would go in search of the girl. He had heard from Lionel that she was staying in the palace overnight, meaning she was definitely here right now. He had also learned from the scout that the backdoor in the armoury, one he had never used in the case that he got lost or caught in a dead end, led to a turn off hallway that connected with the main corridors of the palace. One corridor, which held a massive interest for him, was the corridor that led to the bed chambers, no doubt where the red-head would be at this time.

He almost smiled, thinking about her. He could only imagine what she would look like; where she would be. He pictured her standing on the balcony of her room, letting the old moon highlight her new looks. The moon would cast an ethereal glow over her, something to really allow her to appear as an angel. Her red locks would burn bright in the darkness like fire against the pale white of a nightgown. She would laugh, something that sounded like the gentle ringing of bells and the hum of bird songs, and she would turn to him, allowing him to finally see her face. Bright eyes would grin at him as she approached. Running her hands up his chest, she would smile again, wrapping her arms around his neck to pull him down to her as she leaned towards his ear and then, she would whisper; "Sleepy Boy, I've been waiting for you—"

"Okay," he returned his attention to Aldarn, who was nodding to himself, a hand tightly gripping the sword at his side, "we'll meet back here soon. Don't be too long or we'll have to head back without you." Caleb nodded as well, spinning back to face the staircase as he answered what he knew was a joke, "If I'm not back by the time you've freed everyone, scan the mote for anything I may have thrown out the armoury window and then head home. It'd be too dangerous to wait."

Light footsteps trailed away and Caleb continued up the stone steps, feeling suddenly guilty for lying. It wasn't unusual. He felt guilty for a lot of things. But, he supposed, he'd never really lied to Aldarn. Sure, he stretched the truth, but he had always been more or less honest. Maybe he felt guilty because he was judging his friend, making assumptions based on the characteristics Aldarn showed when there could be another side to his friend, a side that would accept his feelings for the girl, maybe even help him find her. Or maybe he felt guilty for the obvious reasons; he lied. He lied to his best friend about the one thing he was always sensitive with. Girls. Aldarn had always wanted him to show a bigger interest in them, and while he did say "she's pretty" or the occasional, "she's sweet", he'd never shown real interest. And now that he did, he wasn't even telling his friend. He was hiding it. Or maybe that was the reason for his guilt; not because he was lying or judging, but because he was hiding something important to him like he was ashamed of it; embarrassed. Neither of which was true. He was happy, ecstatic, grateful for the feelings he now felt. He liked them. He liked how they made him nervous and jittery and how he felt electrified and warm by her touch, even if most of it was from a dream.

For whatever reason, he still felt guilty as he reached the wooden door of the next staircase. But he frowned and shrugged away the feeling. Right now, he needed to focus. Get rid of a few of the weapons from the armoury, some gun powder maybe, and then go find her. Besides, he thought, coming to a halt outside the armoury, raising his dagger defensively, it's for the best that Aldarn doesn't know.

A/N

Guardians in the next chapter. Thanks to my reviewers and the people who followed my story! You guys rock! Thanks!~M