Lyra grins, satisfied. “There it is. The Amara I know.”
I roll my eyes. “You’re the worst.”
“And you are about to become the most famous person in the realm, so you better start acting like it.”
I groan, nudging my horse forward again. “I hate you.”
“You love me.”
Lyra leans back in her saddle, stretching. “Honestly, I’m just excited to see the city.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Really?”
She snorts. “Obviously. I’ve spent my entire life in a small dusty village. Do you know how long I’ve been waiting to see big city life?”
I grin. “You just want to see the fashion.”
“Absolutely.” She flips her hair dramatically. “I want to see noblewomen in dresses that cost more than my family’s home. I want to see ridiculous feathered hats. Useless fashion. That’s the dream.”
I laugh, shaking my head. The capital never called to me. But with Lyra beside me—making it a spectacle—maybe it won’t be so bad. Maybe it might even feel like a beginning.
Someone calls to her from behind us and Lyra drops back. She leans into a soldier’s saddle, laughing mid-sentence, already tossing a joke before he finishes his.
I take the moment to scan our surroundings, my gazesweeping over the road ahead, the shifting landscape stretching beyond us as we ride.
The path winds down from the mountains, the cold, rocky terrain giving way to a dense forest. The towering trees are ancient, their roots twisted and sprawling. The air shifts as we pass into the forest shade, the scent of pine and damp moss heavy around us. Sunlight filters through the thick canopy, casting dappled patterns along the worn dirt road.
To the east, a river carves through the valley, glinting like liquid silver. We follow along its banks, passing a few villages—small clusters of stone cottages, thatched roofs, smoke curling lazily from chimneys.
People. Real people. Not warriors. Not mages or soldiers.
Just farmers tending their fields, children chasing each other through the tall grass, merchants unloading carts in bustling town squares.
It feels . . . different. Seeing them. Life beyond the outpost. What I am meant to fight for, and what I came from. I see the realm through new eyes now. Not just my own—Spiritborn eyes.
Before, I was just a village girl—probably destined to marry another Earth Clan farmer. Now I am riding to the capital of Lumoria as thesupposedsavior.
I let the magnitude of it settle.
I hear the hooves first; then a horse sidles up beside mine with Kieran atop it.
He grins, easy, unbothered, like we’re just on another ride, not changing the course of the realm.
“Didn’t know you were coming with us to the capital.”
“Assigned,” he says.
He shrugs like it’s no big deal, even though he was handpicked for this. But his eyes flick forward—just briefly—to Thane riding ahead, then back to me, a smirk tugging at his mouth.
“How are things going?” His voice is casual—too casual. Like he’s pretending this is just a mission—and not asking about Thane.
I let the silence stretch.
I could deflect. I could pretend I don’t know what he’s really asking. But I am tired of pretending. I incline my head, considering.
“Things are . . . changing.” A vague response, but an honest one. I let it linger, letting him decide what to do with it.
Kieran’s smile sharpens. Like he can hear everything I’m not saying.
