Lyra's first instinct was to run.
Her second instinct was to trip over absolutely nothing.
She managed to restrain both, which she considered a personal victory given the circumstances. Instead, she stood very still in the moonlit clearing, staring at the stranger who had just informed her quite casually that she might have changed the fate of an entire world.
The swordsman tilted his head, studying her expression with open curiosity.
"You're quieter than most sky-fallers," he said. "Usually they scream. Or cry. Or ask if they're dead."
Lyra cleared her throat. "I'm… pacing myself."
He snorted. Actually snorted. Like this was amusing.
"Fair strategy." He shifted his weight, boots crunching against leaves. "So. Are you going to faint, attack me, or ask where you are?"
Lyra considered the options. "Can I ask all three? Just not in that order?"
That earned her a grin. A real one this time. Lopsided. Dangerous.
"I like you already," he said. "Name's Kael Rowan."
He gave a short bow that looked half-practiced, half-mocking.
"Lyra Fenwick," she replied automatically, then winced. "Wait..should I be giving my full name to armed strangers in unknown forests?"
Kael tapped his chin. "Depends. Are you secretly royalty? Because that complicates things."
"No."
"Assassin?"
"I faint when I see too much blood."
"Ah. Wizard, then."
She gestured helplessly to the glowing map hovering behind her, its symbols shifting like living things. "Accidental one."
Kael followed her gaze. His expression changed—not dramatically, but enough for Lyra to notice. The humor dimmed. Caution slipped in.
"That," he said slowly, "is not an ordinary artifact."
"I gathered."
"That map hasn't been seen in centuries."
Lyra's stomach dropped. "That's… bad, isn't it."
Kael shrugged. "Bad for someone. Great for history books."
Before she could ask him to clarify, the ground beneath them trembled.
Not violently—just enough to make the fireflies scatter and the trees whisper uneasily.
Kael's hand went to his sword in one smooth motion.
"Behind me," he said.
Lyra didn't argue. She moved, clutching her satchel as a low growl echoed through the clearing.
From the shadows emerged a creature that looked like a wolf, if wolves had been designed by someone who hated wolves. Its body shimmered like smoke trapped under skin, eyes glowing an eerie blue.
Lyra swallowed. "That's… not friendly."
"Shadowbeast," Kael said. "Drawn to unstable magic."
She glanced at the map. "So… my fault."
"Almost certainly."
The beast lunged.
Kael moved.
Steel flashed. He met the creature head-on, blade singing as it cut through the air. The Shadowbeast snarled, reforming where the sword passed through it.
"Lyra!" Kael shouted. "Can you do magic?"
She panicked. "Define 'do.'"
The beast swung toward him again. Kael dodged, rolling across the grass.
"Can you make something explode?" he yelled.
"Yes!"
"Then do that!"
Lyra stared at the map. It pulsed in response, warmth flooding her hands. Symbols rearranged themselves, glowing brighter.
"I don't know how!"
"Neither does destiny!" Kael shouted back.
That was not helpful.
Lyra squeezed her eyes shut and thought of the Academy—of diagrams and rules and careful spellwork. None of it applied. This magic felt different. Wilder. Like it wanted her to stop thinking.
So she did.
She imagined the beast dissolving into harmless smoke.
The map flared.
A wave of golden light burst outward, slamming into the Shadowbeast. It let out a startled yelp before unraveling into wisps that vanished into the air.
Silence returned to the clearing.
Lyra opened one eye. Then the other.
"…Did I do that?"
Kael stared at where the creature had been, then at her.
"Well," he said slowly, sheathing his sword, "you definitely did something."
Her knees gave out.
Kael caught her before she hit the ground, steadying her with surprising gentleness.
"Easy," he said. "World-breaking takes energy."
She laughed weakly. "You're enjoying this far too much."
"Occupational hazard."
Once she regained her balance, Kael stepped back, giving her space. His tone softened.
"You shouldn't be here," he said. "The Uncharted Wilds aren't safe. Especially not now."
"Because of the map?"
"Yes." He met her eyes. "And because people will come looking for it."
Lyra hugged her satchel closer. "People like… villains?"
Kael grimaced. "People like kings."
That was worse.
They began walking, following a narrow path that wound through the trees. The forest glowed faintly around them, as if listening.
"Where are we going?" Lyra asked.
"Somewhere with walls," Kael replied. "And food. And fewer things that try to eat newcomers."
"Do you do this often?" she asked.
"Escort accidental world-changers?" He smirked. "First time."
They reached the edge of the forest just as dawn began to bleed into the sky. Beyond it lay a valley dotted with stone buildings and banners snapping in the wind.
"What is that place?" Lyra asked.
Kael stopped beside her.
"That," he said, "is Aerendell—a city that pretends destiny doesn't exist."
Lyra smiled faintly. "Sounds like my kind of place."
He glanced at her, surprised. Then amused.
"Careful," he said. "People who say that usually end up proving destiny wrong."
She looked down at the map, now quiet and unreadable.
"Yeah," Lyra said softly. "That seems to be a theme."
Together, they stepped toward the city—unaware that far beyond the valley, something ancient had awakened, and the map had finally found its bearer.
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