Chapter 12
TWELVE
CYAN
The wind swept across the dusty plains, carrying with it the dry, earthen scent of Earendel’s tribal lands. Cyan stood on a small rise, gazing out at the sandstone flats stretching endlessly into the horizon. Low-set settlements dotted the landscape, blending into the taupe earth as if they had grown naturally from it. Sundried reeds marked the borders of the largest village, their rustling whispering stories only the winds could understand.
He’d spent all day in those settlements, trying to translate the local Universal dialect as best he could, his dataslate his only lifeline to understanding. The children had laughed at his efforts. They had been playing with sticks nearby, weaving through the rows of reeds, until the sight of a stranger and a giant warg caught their attention. His accent had amused them, and he couldn’t blame them. At their age he would have laughed too.
The plains were nothing like the lush forests and snowcapped mountains of Gaia, but their unvarnished rawness resonated with him all the same. There was something so simple about it. He wondered if Elaina had ever been out here, to see the tribes and their quiet resilience. The thought slipped away as quickly as it had come, and he shifted his stance, watching the dry grasses sway in the wind.
The trip, if he were being honest, had been fruitless. The language barrier hadn’t helped, but even beyond that, there was no grand corruption or underlying disorder to uncover. Earendel, in its own way, was more devoid of conflict than many other places he’d been. The separation between the advanced, utilitarian city of Chevron and the remote tribes seemed natural, unforced. There was more than enough land to go around, and the sparse population meant territorial disputes were rare—aside from the occasional skirmish over water. Despite its arid nature, Earendel had a surprising abundance of small streams snaking through its plains. It wasn’t a bad place to settle down, all things considered.
But it wasn’t Gaia.
Cyan turned back toward Chevron, convinced anew that that was where his mission lay. He absently scratched Priad’s massive skull. The warg leaned into the touch, watchful eyes scanning the horizon. Cyan’s other hand found its way to the hilt of his sword, resting on the anchor. The familiar weight—the cold steel, the promise of purpose—felt thin these days. He’d come here on a mission, driven by the pull of fate, but somewhere along the way, he’d let himself get… distracted.
By someone who, through her repair work, was just as much a part of trying to piece together the fractures of Earendel as he was.
Someone who’d been waiting on him.
The last time he’d seen Elaina, he saw in her eyes something that unsettled him—a hope that flickered in and out of his mind, forcing him to confront things he’d rather keep buried. It held a silent invitation for him to stay close. Instead, he’d thrown himself into his work. And then? —
He’d forgotten her.
Forgotten to ping her, to follow through on something so simple it bordered on laughable. The guilt twisted his stomach as he entered Chevron’s crowded streets, the noise of the city barely registering.
I’ll reach out tomorrow , he told himself. Maybe that would ease the tension building in his chest.
She hadn’t contacted him either. Hadn’t chastised him or asked where he was. Elaina was busy with her own duties, just like he was. She probably wasn’t even bothered.
Yes, she had her own life here, and could never fit into his. After his mission, Cyan would leave. Probably go back home to Gaia until the sword called on him again, though there wouldn’t be anyone left for him there by now. Nevertheless, that was his place. Why complicate both their lives when the logistics of their futures were worlds apart?