Chapter 27 #2
Someone calls to her from behind us and Lyra drops back. She leans into a soldier’s saddle, laughing mid-sentence, already tossing a joke before he finishes his.
I take the moment to scan our surroundings, my gaze sweeping over the road ahead, the shifting landscape stretching beyond us as we ride.
The path winds down from the mountains, the cold, rocky terrain giving way to a dense forest. The towering trees are ancient, their roots twisted and sprawling.
The air shifts as we pass into the forest shade, the scent of pine and damp moss heavy around us.
Sunlight filters through the thick canopy, casting dappled patterns along the worn dirt road.
To the east, a river carves through the valley, glinting like liquid silver. We follow along its banks, passing a few villages—small clusters of stone cottages, thatched roofs, smoke curling lazily from chimneys.
People. Real people. Not warriors. Not mages or soldiers.
Just farmers tending their fields, children chasing each other through the tall grass, merchants unloading carts in bustling town squares.
It feels . . . different. Seeing them. Life beyond the outpost. What I am meant to fight for, and what I came from. I see the realm through new eyes now. Not just my own—Spiritborn eyes.
Before, I was just a village girl—probably destined to marry another Earth Clan farmer. Now I am riding to the capital of Lumoria as the supposed savior.
I let the magnitude of it settle.
I hear the hooves first; then a horse sidles up beside mine with Kieran atop it.
He grins, easy, unbothered, like we’re just on another ride, not changing the course of the realm.
“Didn’t know you were coming with us to the capital.”
“Assigned,” he says.
He shrugs like it’s no big deal, even though he was handpicked for this. But his eyes flick forward—just briefly—to Thane riding ahead, then back to me, a smirk tugging at his mouth.
“How are things going?” His voice is casual—too casual. Like he’s pretending this is just a mission—and not asking about Thane.
I let the silence stretch.
I could deflect. I could pretend I don’t know what he’s really asking. But I am tired of pretending. I incline my head, considering.
“Things are . . . changing.” A vague response, but an honest one. I let it linger, letting him decide what to do with it.
Kieran’s smile sharpens. Like he can hear everything I’m not saying.
“I noticed.” His gaze flicks to Thane again, then back to me. Kieran is more observant than I realized.
Kieran’s smirk falters slightly as his gaze lands on the road ahead. “But seriously, Thalor—are you okay?”
I frown, surprised by the shift in his tone. “What do you mean?”
He looks at me like I should already know. “The merging of your fires.” His voice is lower now, quieter. “What happened back there wasn’t normal, and you both were at the center of it.”
His words hit like a stone dropped in my gut. Because he’s right. What happened wasn’t just the bond or prophecy. It was something else—older, vaster—and I don’t even have words for it.
I let out a slow breath.
I could brush it off and tell him I’m fine. But Kieran isn’t Lyra. He won’t tease or push—he’s just asking.
“I don’t know.”
The words slip out before I can stop them. Because it’s true and, frankly, I haven’t stopped long enough to really think about it.
Kieran watches me, and for once there’s no smirk, no teasing. Just concern—and somehow, that unsettles me more.
“You’re not alone in this, you know.” His voice is calm and steady. “I know you’re the Spiritborn and all . . . ”
He exhales, tilting his head toward the road ahead.
“But it’s not just you carrying this. The outpost is behind you. The entire realm is. We believe in you and stand by you.” His gaze holds mine, unwavering. “And that’s not changing anytime soon.”
I breathe out, taking that all in. He’s right. I’ve only ever been shown support since I arrived. And lots of natural curiosity.
“Thank you.” I glance ahead, where Thane rides, where Valen speaks quietly to Garrick. But knowing that and feeling it aren’t always the same thing.
Kieran nudges his horse closer.
“Well, if you ever want to talk about it,” he grins, lighthearted again, but I can hear the sincerity beneath it. “I’m an excellent listener.”
I smirk. “Oh? Since when?”
He presses a hand to his chest, mock-offended. “Since always, Thalor. I am deeply wise and insightful.”
I laugh, and some of the tension in my chest loosens.
Kieran is still watching me. And gods, he actually means it. I shift in my saddle, clearing my throat.
“The prophecy. Our magics.” I shake my head. “It’s not just something out of a dusty old scroll. I feel it, Kieran. And I don’t mean in some grand, destined way. I mean—it’s alive. It’s real. It’s doing something to me. Some kind of bond.”
Kieran raises an eyebrow. “Doing something?”
I nod. “I don’t know how to explain it.” I pause, fingers tightening around the reins. “It felt like something was waking up. And now? The bond isn’t just some force between me and Thane anymore.”
I exhale, steadying myself. “It feels like a thread, pulling me toward something older. Deeper. Bigger than just the two of us.”
Kieran tilts his head, thinking.
Then, in the most serious tone I have ever heard from him, “Ah, yes. The deep, complicated emotional turmoil of the Warlord. I, of course, have always understood it intimately.”
I stare. Then laugh.
I can’t help it. Because it’s ridiculous. Because it’s Kieran. Because I needed that.
He smirks, looking far too pleased with himself. “What? I have depth, Thalor.”
I shake my head, still laughing. “Sure. Of course you do.”
Kieran grins. “I do! The emotional pain of brooding Warlords everywhere weighs heavy on my heart.”
“And yet, somehow, you bear the burden.”
“A true martyr,” he says, placing a dramatic hand over his chest.
I roll my eyes, shaking my head, but my chest feels lighter.
Kieran watches me for a second longer. And this time, he just nods. “Well, if you do figure it out, try not to ascend into some divine celestial being while we’re still on the road. That’d be really inconvenient.”
I grin. “I’ll do my best.”
Kieran’s easy conversation fades into silence, a natural lull settling between us. I shift in my saddle, exhaling, my thoughts already moving ahead—toward the capital, toward what waits for us.
The bond pulls tight, sharp enough to steal my breath. I glance up—and Thane is already looking back. Not at me. At Kieran.
Kieran meets his stare without flinching. Behind his smirk, something flickers—curiosity . . . or a challenge. I can’t quite tell.
Then Thane slows, dropping in beside me—on the side Kieran isn’t.
“Ride with me,” Thane says, his voice calm and steady. But underneath the command, there’s something else. Something only meant for me.
Kieran raises an eyebrow, mouth twitching. He watches, his gaze flicking between us like he’s noting every unspoken word, every charged pause.
And gods, I know he is enjoying this.
I let the silence stretch. Then in a dry tone, “Is that an order, Warlord?”
Thane’s jaw tightens. His fingers flex on the reins, a grumble sitting low in his throat.
Then something flickers across his face—a twitch at the corner of his mouth, the ghost of a smirk he’s trying to suppress.
I grin, guiding my horse closer. Despite the teasing, something in me steadies as I near him.
Thane nods once, sharp and decisive. Then, without a word, he nudges his horse forward, guiding us into the trees.
Kieran watches us go, his usual smirk nowhere to be seen. He doesn’t say anything else—just lets his gaze linger for a moment longer before focusing on the path ahead.
Thane leans closer, his voice low, edged with quiet amusement. “You looked awfully comfortable riding beside him.”
I blink, turning to find his smoke-gray eyes already watching me, the faintest glint of something smug in them.
I scoff. “Oh, please.”
His smirk deepens. “You sure? He does have that golden-boy, Air Clan charm. Wouldn’t blame you if you found yourself tempted.”
I roll my eyes, nudging my horse closer until our knees almost touch, heat pulsing between us like a second heartbeat.
“You’re jealous of Kieran, aren’t you?”
He doesn’t answer right away. Just tightens his reins, eyes forward, that half-smile tugging at his mouth—the silence saying everything. And I remember Kieran and I sitting under the oak tree, the way Thane kissed me in front of the whole outpost. The way he’s interrupted us from the start.
“Gods, has anyone ever told you how infuriatingly smug you are?”
“Mm.” He tilts his head like he’s mock-considering, his smirk refusing to fade. “But I’m still your favorite.”
I scoff, ready to throw it back at him, but he leans in—close enough for his breath to brush my ear. “And if I’m not,” his voice drops, low and dangerous, “I’ll remind you tonight.”
Heat slams through me—low, molten, curling like fire beneath my skin. And I almost forget we’re not alone.
My breath catches, and I curse at how easily he unravels me. Thane chuckles—far too satisfied with himself.
Silence stretches, broken only by the steady rhythm of hooves on damp earth. The escort follows behind, their presence reassuring. Somewhere above, a shadow passes over the road—Xaroth, circling, watching.
The forest thickens, towering trees closing in as golden light stutters through the canopy, striping the crooked trail. The silence is thick here, the muffled sounds of the world beyond swallowed by the weight of the woods.
Thane and I stop, our eyes meeting.
The bond pulls so hard it steals my breath; a hook in my chest, tugging me deeper into the forest. I rub my sternum where I feel the sensation. Thane’s eyes drop to my hand, and he gives a tight nod.
The escort hesitates, unease rippling through them. Behind me, tense voices murmur. The whisper of steel sliding out of their sheaths tells me the warriors suspect a threat.