As Selene's hands touched Lyra's arm, a sensation unlike anything the general had ever known rushed through her. It wasn't pain, but a wave of shimmering warmth that spread from the cut through her entire body. In moments, the deep gash closed, the skin knitting itself back together without a scar, leaving no trace it had ever existed. Selene looked into Lyra's eyes, her own filled with deep, silent gratitude. "Thank you," she whispered softly, her voice barely audible. It was a thank you not for the healing, but for the protection, the fight, and the kindness that had brought them to this moment.
The intimate moment was broken by a stunned voice. "It's true then," Shawn breathed, his eyes wide as he stared at Lyra's now-pristine arm. "You can heal. You have some kind of power." He remembered Lyra's earlier words—"a weapon"—and Lyra's gaze snapped to his, a silent but firm command for discretion.
"I won't tell," Shawn said, his voice dropping to a low whisper. His expression had shifted from suspicion to a mix of awe and intense interest. He leaned in closer, his voice hushed with reverence. "My grandmother used to tell me a tale, long ago… before the mages ever existed. She spoke of people favored by the moon, with a special ability to heal even the most incurable wounds. They were called the Moon Weavers."
He paused, letting the name hang in the air. "There different than the gods and goddess they are immortals, they bestow their blessings and gifts to humans, Unlike the mages and witches who are mortal and once roamed with people and guided kings, the Moon Weavers were never seen. They were ghosts, leaving behind only a handful of stories about people they had mysteriously cured." For the first time, a flicker of hope ignited in Selene's gaze as she reached for the words, as if they were something she could finally hold on to.
Lyra, however, dismissed it with a low murmur. "It's just a story." She knelt to methodically check the fallen Valerian scouts, a cold professional, confirming each one was dead.
"Is it?" Shawn countered, his voice steady. He dismounted and walked closer to Selene. "My grandmother told me they were more than just healers. The legend says they were keepers of balance, their power a blessing from the Moon Goddess herself, tied to the lunar cycle."
Lyra rose to her feet, wiping a fleck of blood from her cheek. "My father would call it a myth. A dangerous one." Her voice was hard, but her eyes held a hint of doubt.
She looked at Selene—the girl who had brought a soldier back from the dead and just healed her own wound in an instant. Deep inside, she couldn't deny what she had seen. She believed.
"We're not staying here," Lyra said, her face softening a fraction. "We need to get back on the road before another patrol finds us."
Lyra and Selene rode together, the rhythmic thud of their horses' hooves the only sound that broke the heavy silence. Behind them, Shawn mounted his horse, a respectful distance separating him from the two women.
The air was cold, but the silence was heavier still, weighted with the unspoken burden of all that had been revealed.
Lyra kept her gaze fixed on the path ahead, her expression unreadable. Her logical mind, a fortress of strategy and cold facts, was under siege. It was one thing to see the evidence of Selene's abilities, but another to hear a name for them—a name tied to myth and legend. The hard-won victory felt hollow, overshadowed by the new, dangerous mystery riding beside her.
Selene, however, was in a different world. The word "Moon Weaver" echoed in her mind, a fragile thread of hope in the vast emptiness of her memory. For the first time, she felt a glimmer of belonging, of purpose beyond just a past she couldn't remember. The stories Shawn had shared gave her a name for the miraculous light in her hands and a home for the soul she had long felt was lost.
Just as the silence threatened to become unbearable, Selene turned to Lyra, her voice soft but clear.
"Moon Weaver," she whispered, the name feeling both new and familiar on her tongue. "Do you believe him?"
Lyra's gaze fell upon Selene. She didn't answer the question directly, her eyes instead searching Selene's face in the faint moonlight.
"I know that you healed me," Lyra murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. "That you're special." For the first time, Lyra noticed how Selene's eyes shone like emerald green, reflecting the moon's light with a soft, ethereal glow.
Selene's hand instinctively went to the faint scar on Lyra's arm, a silent question. "Does that… change anything?"
Lyra's gaze remained fixed on the path ahead, the silence of her thoughts heavy in the night. She finally answered, her voice low and grave. "It changes everything." She didn't have to explain. Selene knew she wasn't talking about their friendship. She was talking about a world where stories were real.
The desperate chase was over, but a new journey had just begun. Their destination was still the capital of Oakhart, but the purpose of their quest..had transformed.