Late Afternoon
The breeze tugged at the long strands of Thessalia's hair as she stood beside him, her gaze fixed far beyond the treetops. The light was soft, golden with the haze of late afternoon, and for a time, she said nothing.
Then, her voice came low. Reflective.
"The Concordia Cycle you've been practicing… it's not just any technique."
Lumberling turned to her, silent.
"It originated from Vaenyra's bloodline. A sacred art passed down through her ancestors. Only a handful of families still keep records of it, Dukes at the least, sometimes royal lineages."
That made him blink.
"She gave me something that rare?"
"It was part of our deal," Thessalia answered, simply. "Besides, Lady Vaenyra doesn't care for noble politics. She follows only one pursuit, strength. The people who gather around her? They're not there because of blood or wealth. They're there because they can keep up."
