My mother lifts her hand to my cheek—just a feather-light touch. Warmth, more than weight.
“We’re with you,” she murmurs. “But you have to move forward. Holding onto what’s gone won’t change what’s coming. Even when you feel alone, you are not.”
Tears sting my eyes. “I miss you,” I whisper, my chest aching with the weight of all I’ve lost.
“We know,” my father says gently. “And we are so proud of you.”
He pauses.
“But grief is not a cage. It is a path. You must keep walking, my girl.”
Hearing my father call me his girl makes my eyes sting. I know this is a dream and yet I feel the tears roll down my cheeks.
The flames flicker, the ruins shifting around me, and I feel the pulse of something deeper, something waiting.
My mother steps back, her form beginning to fade. “Trust yourself, little star,” she says, her voice distant, carried away by the wind.
Then, like smoke on the wind, they are gone. I know, now, this isn’t just a dream.
It’s a calling.
Not a choice, not yet. But maybe . . . a step forward, even if I don’t know where it leads.
The next morning, at breakfast, I push my food around my plate, still feeling the weight of the dreams clinging to me. I don’t feel like the same person who went to sleep.
Finally, I set my fork down and glance at Lyra at my side. She’s watching the two blonde-haired men that are often at Thane’s side.
“I’m going to give it a try,” I say, the words tasting unfamiliar on my tongue. “The Spiritborn thing.”
Lyra doesn’t even blink. She grins, like she’s been waiting for me to say it.
“I knew it,” she says, nudging my arm. “Took you long enough.”
I huff out a laugh despite myself. “You’re impossible.”
“And you’re predictable,” she teases, her eyes shining.
I study her for a moment longer, then speak softly. “Why are you staying?”
Lyra turns to me, startled by the question. But before she can speak, I gently place a hand over hers on the table.
“I know you said you’d follow me anywhere—and I love you for that. Truly. But what about your parents? Your family back in Liora? You still have roots there. A life.”
I swallow, the words catching slightly in my throat.
“I don’t. Not anymore. I’ll be okay, Ly. You don’t have to stay for me.”
She places her other hand over mine, just like we used to as children—our fingers stacked, a quiet promise between palms. Her eyes meet mine—steady, earnest—and a small smile tugs at the corner of her mouth.
“Mara, I want to be here for you . . . but more than that, Iwantto fight.” Her voice is quiet at first, but it gains strengthwith each word. “I’ve always wanted to. The village—it was never big enough for me.”
She looks out one of the windows along the wall, where sunlight spills across the stone floor.
“I used to stare at the mountains beyond the farms and wonder what was beyond them.” Her thumb brushes gently over the back of my hand. “I wanted more than fields and festivals and waiting for someone else to decide my future. I wanted achoice.”
She takes a breath, then straightens her spine before looking back at me. There’s a fire behind her eyes now, the same spark I’ve seen when she would get into mischief back home—unyielding, bright.
“For the first time, I have it. A chance to fight for something that matters. To stand for something bigger than myself.”
