Chapter 5 #4
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.”
He looks at me, steel in his silver-blue eyes. “You can walk away, but the world won’t. And the Shadow Forces won’t. This isn’t a role, my dear girl—it’s a weight. If you don’t carry it, someone else will fall trying to hold the line.”
His words settle over me like the slow pull of the tide. I glance at the soldiers, at the weapons, at the firelit banners above. This has never been about a single choice . . . it’s about every choice after.
I nod, nails digging into my palms. “Then, today, I choose this.”
Valen nods in return, like I’ve just volunteered to peel potatoes—not step into a war.
After our conversation, the grief returns like a wave breaking open, sharp and breath-stealing.
Without thinking, I find myself crossing the courtyard, slipping through the gates, and walking toward the lake. The oak tree waits there for me, just as it always has—still, silent, reliable.
But everything else has changed.
Standing beneath its branches, I realize that choosing this path—truly choosing it—makes their death feel final, real in a way it hadn’t before.
Like moving forward means leaving them behind.
I ease onto the bench beneath the tree, the wood cool beneath my palms. The ground still holds the damp chill of early spring, the kind that lingers beneath the surface. I let it in. It matches the ache in my chest.
I used to love this.
As a child, I lived in the dirt—knees brown and bare, playing Jacks with Lyra or lying on my back, watching clouds drift across a summer sky.
I coaxed buds from the ground with my lesser magics, small and clumsy but full of wonder.
I’d kneel and wait, breath held, as tiny green stems pushed through the soil like they were waking just for me.
But today, the chill is more than I can bear. So I sit on the bench instead.
The last moments of my parents’ lives creep into my mind. Their faces lit with relief when they saw me return.
I left them.
Then the crash of the house. The whoosh of fire. The screams.
I left them.
I don’t know how long I sit there, the lake stretching out before me, its surface shimmering like glass catching the light. The breeze stirs, it gently ripples across the reflection until everything looks just a little bit blurred—like the world can’t decide what shape to take.
Neither can I.
“There you are.”
I jump, the voice ripping me from the memory. Thane stands beside the bench, his shadow stretching long in the late afternoon light.
For a moment, I can’t speak. Not with the screams still echoing in my mind. His eyes tighten slightly when he sees my expression.
How long have I been sitting here?
I glance up at the sun, now dipping lower behind the trees. An hour. Maybe more.
“I didn’t mean to startle you,” he says, voice low, careful.
“It’s okay,” my voice faint.
He nods once, then gestures to the empty space beside me. “Mind if I sit?”
I shrug. “Go ahead.”
It suddenly occurs to me—I haven’t seen Lyra since breakfast. I turn to Thane, about to ask if he has, but the words die on my tongue when I catch the way he’s looking at me. Like I’m something fragile. Breakable.
No one’s ever looked at me like that before. I’ve always been capable. Certain. Sure of my next step. But now?
Now I’m just someone who chose to step into the unknown.
Before, my life had direction—clear, steady, shaped by expectation from the moment I was born. There was no unknown. But now? Every step feels like walking through mist.
“Do you know where Lyra is?” I ask.
Thane gestures over his shoulder with a nod of his head. “She’s been training with some of the newer recruits all morning. I passed them on the way here.”
A small smile tugs at my lips. Of course she has. It’s just like Lyra to slip into a place like she was always meant to be there.
A soft birdsong rises through the branches above us. I glance up.
The oak rustles in the breeze, limbs wide and reaching. Light filters through the canopy, dappling the ground in flickering gold.
From the corner of my eye, I notice Thane follows my gaze upward.
“That’s a flamecrest,” he says, nodding toward the bird.
Its rust-colored wings flash in the light as it flits from branch to branch, the golden plume on its head rising like a flame with every note of its song.
“I’ve never seen one before.”
“They’re native to the Fire Clan’s highlands,” Thane says. “They nest near lava flows—heat doesn’t bother them. Some say they’re born from embers.” He glances at me. “People say they only sing that particular song when they sense something’s about to change.”
I look back at the flamecrest, its song light and clear through the trees.
I’m still watching the flamecrest when Thane speaks. “Valen told me you chose.”
I shift my gaze to him. His eyes are steady, measured.
I nod.
My gaze drops to my hands. I didn’t even realize I was wringing them until the ache sets in. I pull them apart and sit on them, pressing them into the bench like I can force the tension out of my body.
Thane just watches me. He doesn’t press, and I’m grateful for that. I don’t want to talk about my grief—not with him. He may be many things, but right now, he’s still a stranger.
I’ll find Lyra afterward.
I glance at Thane. His eyes—smoke-gray—catch the light like struck flint. I’ve never seen eyes that color before.
In the Earth Clan, people have eyes in shades of brown or green.
The Air Clan is all blues and silvers, like the sky after a storm.
Water Clan leans hazel, soft and shifting like river stone.
Some have blue eyes, like the ocean, I’ve been told.
And the Fire Clan? Gold, mostly. Sometimes brown. Maybe hazel.
But smoke-gray? That’s not a color I’ve ever seen. Not in any clan.
Maybe he’s some mix of clans. Maybe there’s an explanation.
Or maybe it’s just another thing I don’t know yet.
“So now what?” I ask, quieter than I intend.
“Now,” Thane says, “we begin training you.”
His tone is calm, certain—like the path is already laid out.
“Valen will help you harness and wield your elemental magics. I’ll train you in combat—hand-to-hand, weapons, whatever you’ll need. And we build from there.”
He pauses, and something shifts in his expression—a glint in his eye that hadn’t been there before.
“But first, if you want . . . we introduce you to my inner circle. Now that you’re staying.”
“The inner circle?” I ask.
Thane grins—quick, unguarded. “My brothers,” he says. “Not by blood—but they’re family. We grew up together. Trained together since we could hold weapons. They’ll be helping with your training.”
There’s a note of pride in his voice, softened by something almost fond.
“I know you’ve seen them around the outpost training the other soldiers—I asked them to give some space until you . . . ” his voice trails off while he studies me. “They’re waiting for us,” he says as he stands, brushing the dust from his hands.
I nod, but a flicker of unease coils behind my ribs. Another room full of people I have to prove myself to.
I rise slowly, the chill still clinging to my legs.
“Shall we go?” Thane asks, his voice smooth. He gestures me forward with one hand, the other tucked neatly behind his back like some practiced gentleman. It’s unexpectedly graceful. Controlled, like everything he does.
I fall into step beside him.
“Their names are Garrick and Jarek Kaelen—brothers. Garrick’s the oldest and loudest. Jarek is steady—keeps Garrick in line.” A flicker of amusement edges his words. “And Rian Morne. Quiet, but don’t let that fool you—he misses nothing.”
He glances over. “They’re my second, third, and fourth. My most trusted. And now that you’re here—they’ll be yours too.”
As we start walking, he says, “I asked Lyra to join us when I saw her training earlier—she should already be there.” His eyes flick to me.
“We’ll have an early dinner. Let you meet them properly.
” A pause. “Valen will be there too. And tomorrow, I’ll introduce you to Captain Elaris—he’s in charge of this outpost.”
He turns back to the trail ahead. “He’s a good man.”
“Are we going to the mess hall?” I ask.
Thane gives a polite smile. “No. We have a private dining room on the other side of the outpost. Gives us a chance to have more of an intimate gathering.”
We move through the outpost together, our steps falling into an easy rhythm. I don’t know the layout well yet, so I make a point to notice stone archways, banners marking the halls, the sun casting a hard edge along the southern tower.
I study the path. Visual anchors. Markers I can hold onto later.
The corridor narrows, walls rising higher as the stronghold unfolds in quiet layers—worn steps, dragonflame lanterns flickering, and the steady clang of sparring steel in the distance.
I trail my fingers against the cool stone walls, trying to anchor myself to this new life.
A tall spire looms ahead, black banners rippling from its peak.
“That’s the Signal Tower,” Thane says beside me, catching where I’m looking. “If the wards ever fail or we’re under siege, it’s the first to alert the capital.”
We pass a lower courtyard where several young recruits are sparring. I spot the burn-scorched walls, faded training dummies, and half-cracked stones beneath their feet.
“That’s the old ring,” he continues. “My brothers and I trained there when we were their age. It’s been rebuilt more times than I can count.”