She lets go of my hand only to place it over her heart, her jaw set with quiet defiance.
“I don’t want to sit on the sidelines while others bleed for this realm. I want to face it. All of it. The danger, the grit, the truth of the world.” Her voice drops, softer now. “And yeah, it scares me.”
She looks back at me, and there’s no hesitation in her eyes.
“But it also thrills me because for the first time, I’m not just watching life pass me by—I’mlivingit.”
She leans in, bumping my shoulder with hers, her smile half mischief, half heart.
“And I get to do it with you. That’s everything.”
I look at her, heart twisting. A part of me wants to argue—to protect her from what I don’t yet understand. But I see the fire in her eyes, the spark I’ve always known. She was never meant for a small life.
And deep down, I know—shedoesunderstand. She’s just choosing to face it anyway.
A lump rises in my throat. I blink hard, then whisper, “You’re braver than me, you know that?”
Lyra scoffs lightly, but her smile softens.
“I’m still scared,” I admit. “I still want to run. But if I do, someone else will pay the price. And I don’t want that on my hands.” I take a breath. “My parents wouldn’t want that.”
I pause.
“But I’m glad I’m not alone.”
My voice breaks a little on the last word, and Lyra just squeezes my hand again, no words needed.
After breakfast, I go to find Valen.
I spot him in the training yard, locked in a sparring match with another soldier. I pause at the edge, watching. Despite his age, Valen moves with a fluid grace, his staff whirling through the air as he counters every strike with calculated precision. Then, with a swift motion, he disarms his opponent, sending the blade skidding across the dirt.
I exhale, impressed.
When he notices me, I step forward.
“Can I ask you something?”
He wipes sweat from his brow and nods. The soldier sparring with Valen steps to the water pitcher to give us privacy.
“Of course.”
I hesitate. “Can I stop?”
He frowns, a question in his eyes.
“If I try—can I walk away later? If I decide I can’t do it?”
Valen studies me, then leans his staff against his shoulder, hands wrapped around the middle.
“‘No,” he says simply. “You will always be the Spiritborn. But that doesn’t mean you have to act on it.”
“What do you mean?” I frown.
He gestures to the warriors training around us. “Every day, they make a choice to fight, to defend.”
His eyes flick to the soldier he was just sparring with, now starting his cool down stretches.
“Become more than what they were yesterday. And so will you. This isn’t about fate forcing your hand, Amara. This is about choosing—again and again—every single day.”
