20. Journey Ahead
Chapter twenty
Journey Ahead
After the meeting, Oberon motions for Ash, Zander, and me to step aside.
The air in the room seems to shift as he enters full commander mode, and I can feel the weight of his gaze on me as he speaks.
“The four of us will be heading to the southern territories,” Oberon says, his voice firm.
“I need each of you with me for the journey ahead. Ash, you’ll continue to help Lyra with her magic and with the local negotiations.
Zander, I want you to focus on her combat training and gather any useful intel from the villages. Understood?”
Ash grins, his usual sarcasm slipping back into place as he leans against the wall with an exaggerated sigh. “You and me again, sunshine. Ready for round two?” he says, winking at me like we are heading into some friendly match instead of the serious business at hand.
Zander’s face twists into a scowl at the orders, clearly displeased. He shoots me a glare, his gaze as cold as ever, but he doesn’t dare challenge Oberon a second time. Instead, he crosses his arms, clearly stewing in silence.
I raise an eyebrow, not letting the tension slide by unnoticed.
“And what will you be doing, Oberon?” I ask, my voice sharp, the snark coming easily.
The room stills for a moment.
Zander’s sour expression lightens ever so slightly at my jab, and I see the faintest glimmer of amusement flicker in his blue eyes. Ash chuckles softly, his usual playful grin widening.
Oberon doesn’t flinch at my sharp tongue.
His eyes remain steady, focused on me with that unwavering intensity I have come to recognize.
“I, my dear Lyra,” he says, his voice low and controlled, “will be working with you on both fronts, ensuring these two still ‘got it’.” He says, with an almost playful glint in his eye, “and making sure both sides of this damned war are playing their part to ensure our success.”
There is a flicker of something else in his tone, something more than just duty, but I can’t quite place it.
He pauses for a beat longer than necessary, his eyes momentarily flicking over me, as if he is evaluating something beneath the surface.
“And I think you’ll find, Lyra, that working together on all fronts might be . . . more pleasurable than you expect.”
My face flushes at the implication, and I can feel the tension rise between us. His tone is casual, but there is something deeper in the way he says it, like a reminder of all the unspoken things that linger between us.
Ash quips back with another grin. “So, basically, we get to do all the hard work while you sit back and take notes?”
Oberon’s lips curl into a half-smile, but it doesn’t soften his gaze. “You’ll have your hands full, Ash. Don’t worry.”
Zander rolls his eyes but says nothing, looking more irritated than ever. It is clear that we have a long road ahead, with all of us playing our parts in this delicate dance of rebellion.
Oberon lightens his stance. “We will be staying here tonight, but will be leaving in the morning.” His commander’s tone fading, he adds, “Get some rest. We have a challenging journey ahead of us.”
We all go our separate ways after that.
I spend the rest of the day wandering the stronghold, exploring the grounds while Oberon meets with the other leaders, and Ash does whatever it is Ash does when left to his own devices. I know we’ll regroup for dinner later, and Oberon will show me to my quarters before we leave at dawn.
I have never been south, and the idea of exploring new lands sparks excitement in me. But part of me wishes I had seen them under different circumstances, before everything was reduced to chaos and ruin.
Though I despise the cabin, it remains untouched by the war, a rare sanctuary that gave me hope. Maybe there are still places like that out there, untouched, peaceful, beautiful.
I wander further, away from the sounds of the training grounds, where the constant noise and movement fade behind me.
A small stream runs through the grounds, its water flowing steadily from the mountain and directly to the tower.
Along its path, a wooden structure stands, offering shade, simple, quiet.
The vines clinging to it are thick with thorns, but no flowers are in sight.
I sit down beneath the structure, drawn to the peace, and decide to try the exercise Ash taught me. It didn’t go well the first time, but at least this time, I have no audience.
For hours, I focus, clearing my mind as best I can, starting the count again and again. I reach a hundred several times, but never long enough to feel that elusive pull of my magic. Frustration begins to settle in when I hear his voice. “There you are.”
I blink open my eyes to see Oberon standing before me. His usual commanding demeanor is gone, replaced by something . . . softer, “I’ve been looking for you.” His voice is smooth, almost teasing.
I rise slowly, brushing off the leaves from my clothes.
“It’s time for dinner. Will you join me?” Oberon’s words hang in the air, a question and an invitation. There is something in his gaze that makes it clear he isn’t just offering a meal.
I hesitate, a knot forming in my stomach, but I can’t quite place why. “Lead the way, then,” I reply, my voice steady, at least I hope it is.
He turns, his eyes lingering on me just a moment longer than necessary, and the briefest flicker of something I can’t name passes between us.
As Oberon leads me through the winding corridors toward the dining hall, the distant sounds of the evening gathering grow louder, but for now, it is just the two of us, walking side by side in silence.
The weight of the day hangs between us, thick with unspoken words, and I can’t shake the feeling that something is shifting between us.
I glance up at him, searching his expression. “You’re quiet tonight,” I remark, trying to keep my voice light, but the words feel like they are hanging in the air, waiting for something to break the tension.
“This is the part where you usually have something sarcastic to say.”
He gives a half-smile, but his eyes are distant, almost like he is lost in thought. “I’ve been thinking,” he murmurs, his voice far more serious than I expect. “Ash told me about the exercise he gave you . . . trying to unlock your magic.”
I stiffen, and the air around us seems to thicken. “Did he tell you everything?” My voice is tight, almost defensive, but I can't stop myself from asking.
Oberon doesn’t immediately answer, his eyes flickering with something unreadable as he looks ahead. “He told me about the magic,” he says quietly, his voice almost a murmur. “And he told me about the memories, how they threaten to drown you.”
I stop in my tracks, feeling the words hit me like a cold wave. “He shouldn’t have—”
“Don’t be angry with him,” Oberon interrupts gently, his tone softening just slightly, though there is a firmness beneath it that makes me feel exposed.
“Ash only told me because he thought I needed to know. Because this . . .” He opens his arms and gestures around to where we were standing. “This is bigger than all of us.”
My heart skips a beat, and for a moment, I don’t know how to breathe. “I didn’t ask for this,” I whisper, barely able to hold the emotions in. “I didn’t ask for any of it.”
Oberon stops walking and turns to face me, his gaze sharp, yet surprisingly tender. “I know,” he says quietly. “But the past is part of you. You can’t unlock what’s inside you without facing it. Without accepting it.”
I feel a lump form in my throat, the weight of his words sinking deep into my chest. “What if I can’t?” I whisper, barely able to meet his eyes. “What if I can’t accept it?”
He steps closer, his presence so close I can feel the heat radiating off him.
The intensity in his eyes makes my breath catch.
“You can, Lyra,” he says, his voice low, just a little rough.
“You have to. Your magic is tied to it. It’s buried because of your fear.
You’re afraid of what might come out if you dig deep enough. That’s what’s holding you back.”
I swallow hard, unable to look away from him now. There is something about the way he speaks that makes me feel like he can see through all the walls I’ve carefully built. Like he sees everything I am too afraid to admit to myself.
“How did the exercise go today?” he asks, redirecting the conversation, his voice still calm, though there is an edge to it now, an undercurrent of something I can’t quite place.
I force myself to look at him, to find the words. “I couldn’t feel it like I did last time. I . . . tried, but it was different. I couldn’t reach it. Not like before.”
Oberon studies me, his gaze sharp, his jaw tightening just slightly.
He doesn’t speak for a moment, and I can feel his assessment pressing in on me.
Finally, he speaks, his voice barely a whisper, but it hits me like a strike.
“That’s because you were afraid to,” he says softly, his eyes never leaving mine.
“The memories, the magic, it’s all tied together.
Fear is the thing that keeps you from it.
You were too afraid to go there, to confront what you don’t want to see. ”
A chill runs down my spine. I want to deny it. I want to argue. But I can’t. The truth is too raw, too close. I have been afraid. I still am. “I didn’t even want to try,” I admit quietly, my voice breaking slightly. “The memories . . . they hurt. And I don’t know if I’m strong enough to face them.”
“You are strong enough,” Oberon says, his tone softening, but with a quiet certainty that makes my heart ache.
“You’ve been through so much already. You just don’t realize how much strength you have in you.
But if you keep running from it, if you keep hiding from your past, you’ll never unlock the magic inside you.
You’ll never become who you’re meant to be. ”
His words send a wave of heat rushing through me, a mix of frustration and something else, something dangerous that I don’t want to acknowledge. “What if I don’t want to be who I’m ‘meant to be’?” I whisper, my chest tightening.
Oberon’s eyes soften, but there is still an edge of intensity that I can’t ignore.
I can feel him move closer, his presence enveloping me, almost suffocating.
“You will be,” he assures me, his voice low, thick with something that feels like both reassurance and a command. “You will find your way, Little Lyra.”
I look up at him, my mind spinning, and I don’t hold back this time. “How can I be who I’m meant to be when I don’t even know who I am?” The words spill out before I can stop them, raw and jagged. It feels like I am unraveling, and I hate it.
For a moment, Oberon just looks at me as if trying to understand, as if trying to see past the walls I keep erect around myself.
His gaze softens, and he takes a step closer, the space between us evaporating.
There is no teasing now, no playfulness in his voice.
“I see you, Lyra. I see all of you, even the pieces you haven’t put together yet,” he murmurs, his voice just above a whisper, but it feels like a vow.
“You’ve always known who you are, you’re just too afraid to see it.
Too afraid to accept the pieces that make you whole.
” His eyes hold mine, piercing through me, a quiet storm in them.
“And maybe . . . maybe I’m afraid for you, too.
But I won’t let you drown in your fear. I’ll help you face it, whether you’re ready or not. ”
There is a long pause, and I can feel the pull between us, magnetic and undeniable. My pulse quickens as he looks down at me, his gaze searching, almost like he is waiting for me to say something.
But I can’t.
I just stand there, frozen in the moment, too afraid to speak.
Finally, Oberon breaks the silence, his voice teasing once again, though there is a trace of something softer beneath. “Well, we’ll work on that later. For now, we have dinner waiting, and I’m sure you have more snarky comments to make about my leadership skills.”
I roll my eyes, the tension between us still there, but I can’t help the small, reluctant smile tugging at my lips. “You are insufferable.”
“You love it,” he replies smoothly, his grin returning, though his eyes still hold that unspoken promise, that quiet, burning intensity that makes everything feel more than it should.
As we continue down the hallway, my heart is racing, and there is a new kind of understanding between us now, something deeper, more charged. Something I’m not ready for, but somehow, I don’t want to back away from it.