"I just saved someone," Selene said softly, her voice barely a breath. "The other day."
Lyra looked at her. "That's what healers do."
"No, not in a normal way," Selene countered, her voice dropping to a whisper. "The soldier died. I revived her."
Lyra's casual amusement drained away, replaced by an expression of sharp focus.
"That's... inconvenient," she said, her tone suddenly serious. "You can... revive people?"
"I guess I can?" Selene answered, the question in her voice a stark reminder of her lost memory. "It just happened accidentally."
Lyra's gaze turned to ice. "From the dead," she repeated, the words a quiet echo of a terrifying truth. She stared at Selene, her mind racing with the implications. The power to revive someone was a weapon of unthinkable value, one that would turn the tide of any war and make Selene a target for every kingdom. "Did no one see?"
Selene shook her head. "But the soldier I revived, her name is Elise. She thanked me, and she swore not to tell anyone."
Lyra nodded, taking note of the name. A sigh of relief escaped her. She realized her error in sending Selene to the medical tent, but it was a good thing they were journeying back to Oakhart tomorrow. The less time Selene spent in a place full of people, the better. A comfortable silence grew between them, and Lyra closed her eyes.
Selene watched her, a question forming in her mind. The General seemed like a kind person, and Selene couldn't reconcile that with the brutal reality of war.
"You have something to ask?" Lyra said, her eyes still closed, a soft smile on her face. "Just ask."
"You don't seem like the type of person who belongs in a war," Selene said, her voice barely a whisper.
Lyra opened her eyes and raised a single brow. "What kind of person do you think I am?"
Their gazes met, and Selene's heart quickened. She saw the charm, the heroism, the bravery. She felt the depth of the person behind the title. She took a breath and chose a single word. "Kindhearted."
Lyra's laugh was short and brittle. "My soldiers wouldn't agree with you." The smile vanished, and her eyes lost their amusement. "You know, I've killed more people than I can count." She held up her hands as if to prove it.
"I was sixteen when I did it for the first time. That's how my father trained me."
Her gaze drifted to the distant lights of the camp. "Since I was a child, I was taught swordsmanship, combat, archery. I read books about war. I basically grew up on a battlefield."
A heavy silence hung between them, filled only by the quiet rustle of leaves and the distant hum of campfires.
"I guess its a path I was expected to take and," she continued, her voice heavy with a profound weariness. "I wanted my father to be proud of me, so I made sure to be better than anyone else. The best."
A brittle grin touched her lips, but it didn't reach her eyes. "That's what he expected. I'm an alpha, and the only child of a decorated general. That's why I'm the youngest general, ever."
""And I never lost a battle," she said, her voice trailing off. She paused, as if remembering a distant incident. "Though there was a close one. Shawn almost died, and I lost half my men," she added, regret lacing her voice.
"War is pointless," Selene muttered, almost to herself.
Lyra's gaze flickered to her. "Hmm?"
"Do you agree?" Selene asked, her voice gaining strength. "The ones who start it aren't even at the front lines."
"You aren't wrong," Lyra said, her words echoing Selene's earlier thoughts. "They will write poems about valor and sacrifice. They'll engrave their names on monuments. But they won't remember the cold, the mud, or the screams." Lyra's words echoed Selene's earlier thoughts.
Do you?" Selene asked, her voice barely a whisper, "Remember the screams?"
Lyra's breath hitched. For a long moment, she didn't speak, the quiet of the night pressing in around them. She looked not at Selene, but at the distant flicker of the campfires, at the shadows that danced on the edges of the light.
Then, so softly it was almost lost to the wind, she answered, "...yes."
The word was not a confession, but a shard of pain, a profound weight that settled between them. It was a shared secret, a scar from a war Selene hadn't fought, but understood nonetheless. The general's composure, her armor, was gone.
Selene looked at the general, truly looked at her for the first time. The hard lines of command were softened by the starlight. "Then why do you do it?"
Lyra sighed, a long, weary sound that was carried away by the wind. "Because someone has to. My father gave his life for this war... to protect us. And if we don't, the war will just find its way to their thrones, to the Kingdom, the villages and then it will be even uglier. Because I believe we are protecting something." She turned her gaze to Selene, her eyes a mirror of the stars.
"I don't believe in the war, but I believe in the people suffering from it," Selene stated.
Lyra studied her for a moment, and Selene felt as if the general could see right through her. Finally, Lyra nodded slowly. "That's a good enough reason," she said. "The best, perhaps."
The silence returned, staring out at the distant lights. Lyra finally turned to face Selene, her eyes searching.
"You said I didn't seem like the type of person for war," Lyra said, her voice softer now. "Did my reality... crush your expectation of me?"
Selene looked away, her heart aching for Lyra's vulnerability. "No," she whispered, meeting her gaze once more. "It just makes me wonder who you would have been if you hadn't been raised to fight."
Lyra's gaze lingered on her for a moment, and a faint, sad smile touched her lips. "I've wondered that myself," she admitted. "When I was little, I used to sneak away to the royal library. My father wanted me in the training yard, of course. But I loved the smell of old paper and the quiet. I would spend hours reading about history, great cities, and... art." She paused, as if speaking of a long-lost friend. "I always wondered if I could have been a painter or scholar instead. A life with books, not battles."
The confession hung in the air between them, a shared vulnerability. Selene, who had no memory of her own life, felt a strange kinship with the general who had been forced to give up hers. Lyra, in turn, seemed to find a moment of peace in sharing this secret with someone who saw her not as a general, but as a person.