Lost Heir (Blood Weaver Trilogy #2)

Chapter 24

24

A fter crossing the small patch of land of the Central Plains, the journey into the Grasslands revealed a stark contrast to the regimented landscapes of Keldara. Here, the terrain sprawled wide and wild, a rugged expanse that seemed both untamed and inviting. Vast prairies stretched under an expansive sky, dotted with clusters of dense woods and interspersed with winding rivers that sparkled under the sun’s bright rays.

As we ventured deeper, the occasional homestead appeared, their structures built from the very earth they stood upon, blending seamlessly into the natural environment. These homes were surrounded by patches of cultivated land where members of the Crimson Clan worked together, their movements synchronized in a dance of communal living.

“The Grasslands breathe with the life of its people,” Ronan explained, his voice carrying a mix of pride and sorrow. “We live by the land, and the land lives by us. It's more than a home—it's part of who we are.”

The closer we got to the heart of the Crimson Clan's territory, the more vibrant the landscape became. Wildflowers in a myriad of colors blanketed the fields, creating a mosaic of hues that danced in the breeze. Occasionally, we'd pass a group of Crimson Clan members, their distinctive tattoos a vivid declaration of their identity, their greetings warm but measured as they recognized Ronan.

“Every clan member learns to harmonize with the environment here,” Ronan continued, gesturing towards a group of children herding sheep using traditional techniques passed down through generations. “Our ways might seem primitive to some, but they're crafted from centuries of respect for the wilderness that sustains us.”

As the sun began to set, casting long shadows over the grassy plains, the true beauty of the Grasslands revealed itself. The horizon lit up in fiery oranges and pinks, reflecting off the rivers like trails of molten gold. It was a land that demanded respect and offered solace in return, a land that fiercely protected its own.

“This is why I fight so hard to protect our way of life,” Ronan said, his gaze fixed on the horizon. “It's not just about survival. It's about preserving a legacy that will outlive us all.”

“It’s beautiful, Ronan,” I said as we passed another group of members who looked at me with open curiosity.

“Ronan!” someone called out from a distance. We peered over and saw Silas running towards us. When he reached us, he pulled Ronan into an embrace. “What are you doing here?” His crimson eyes slid to me, no doubt wondering why I was with him on their lands.

“Long story, brother.” Ronan smiled and patted his back. “Do you know where my father is?”

Silas nodded. “He’s in the ritual hall speaking with some of the elders. ”

“We need to see him,” Ronan said, urgency edging his voice.

Silas cast a glance at me, his eyes narrowing slightly before returning to Ronan. “Is everything alright?” he asked, concern threading his tone.

Ronan hesitated, his gaze flitting to me before returning to his clan brother. “It's complicated. We've had a bit of a journey.”

Silas nodded as understanding dawned on his face. “Alright, I'll take you to him, but Ronan, if you're bringing her—” he paused and nodded towards me, “—into the ritual hall, you know it's not without risk. The elders are there and they, along with your father might misunderstand your intention, if you know what I mean.”

I felt a flicker of apprehension but met Silas’s gaze steadily. “I can handle myself,” I said, hoping my voice conveyed more confidence than I felt.

Silas studied me a moment longer, then sighed. “Alright. Follow me.” He turned and led us through the village, which seemed to buzz with the energy of a community deeply connected to both their heritage and the land.

As we walked, children played in the fields, their laughter ringing clear and true, while adults nodded respectfully as we passed. The whole community pulsed with a vibrant life that was at once ancient and refreshingly alive.

The ritual hall was situated at the heart of the village, a large, round structure adorned with symbols that spoke of the Crimson Clan's deep spiritual and cultural roots. The air grew redolent with the scent of incense as we approached, and the murmur of deep voices echoed from inside.

Silas paused at the entrance and turned to us. “Prepare yourselves. This might not go smoothly,” he warned before pushing aside the thick cloth that served as a door.

Inside, the hall was dimly lit by the glow of firelight. Figures clad in traditional garb sat around a central fire, their faces marked by lines of age and wisdom. Chief Aryan sat amongst them, his presence commanding even in his stillness.

Ronan took a deep breath and stepped forward, with me lagging a half-step behind. The conversation inside the hall ceased abruptly as all eyes flicked to us. The weight of their gazes was palpable, filled with questions and, for some, suspicion.

Chief Aryan’s eyes locked on mine, then he looked at Ronan. “Son,” he began, his voice resonant and carrying through the hut, “what brings you back to us so early? I thought you would still be making your way through the Central Plains.”

Ignoring his father’s question, Ronan's voice was calm but firm. “Something happened in Valoria and … they might possibly wage war on us if we don’t act fast.” He glanced back at me, his expression unreadable.

The room tensed. The air was thick with anticipation as the crackle of the fire punctuated the silence that followed.

“Explain yourself!” Chief Aryan demanded as he stood. “What have you done?”

Ronan swallowed deeply and hesitated. Before he could say anything, I stepped forward and took his hand in mine. “My family believes Ronan tried to poison me. My brother is there and is trying to explain the situation, so we hope nothing will come of it. But my brother is also dealing with Prince Caelan, who orchestrated the whole situation.”

“What?” Silas gasped and looked to Ronan for confirmation. When he nodded, Silas shook his head .

Chief Aryan focused on me. His cold, crimson eyes were nothing like Ronan’s warm eyes, which was slightly terrifying. “And why are you here? Not that we don’t welcome you, but you had the power to stay behind and clear Ronan’s name.”

I nodded. “Yes … but I want to help you .”

Chief Aryan’s brows shot up to his hairline. “What do you mean?”

“I know about the prophecy. I know what you need from me.”

A collective gasp cut through the hall. All eyes fell on me and drifted to where our hands were clasped together. I saw the moment when understanding dawned on them.

“Leila …” Silas whispered, attempting to stop me, but it was too late.

Chief Aryan’s eyes brightened with excitement and a smirk slowly spread across his face. “Is that so? Well then, I guess my only question now is do you agree to help us?”

Everyone in the hall held their breath and waited for my answer, weighing the possibility of being saved.

I dipped my head. “Yes, I do.”

The chief’s smirk widened and the elders in the hall started to clap and stomp their feet with wide smiles.

Silas appeared beside me with worry etched on his face. “Leila … Your Highness, are you sure ? Do you know the whole truth?”

Ronan cleared his throat. “She knows,” he said, finally finding his voice. “And she knows I’ll use the wish from the fox demon to bring her back,” he said loud enough so everyone in the hall would hear.

There was a pause in the celebration, and the smirk on Chief Aryan’s face twitched. Ronan was right; his father had other plans .

“Of course, son,” he agreed amiably. “We’ve waited a long time, so it goes without saying that we hope to conclude the ceremony swiftly. Agreed?”

Ronan’s face tensed as he glared at his father. “How soon?” he gritted between his teeth.

The corners of Chief Aryan’s mouth lifted. “How about tomorrow?”

Ronan growled and took a menacing step toward his father. I quickly tugged on his arm to stop him. “Tomorrow is fine,” I answered quickly.

Ronan whipped his gaze to me. “Leila!”

“It’s fine, Ronan,” I whispered to him. “Your father is right. It’s better to get this over with. Your people are in desperate need. We can’t let them wait any longer.”

Chief Aryan smirked and stepped toward us. “Your Highness is so sage. Tomorrow it is, then.”