The ride back was silent, the stars overhead offering no comfort. Lyra stared at her hand, now smooth and whole where the deep wound had been. A grim acceptance settled in her eyes as the reality of what happened sank in.
By the time they reached the camp, the moon was already high in the sky. The camp's familiar s
ights and sounds were a welcome relief.
The low murmur of soldiers, the crackling of cook fires, and the distant neighing of horses created a stark contrast to the silence they had just left behind.
Lyra dismounted, her movements still precise despite her exhaustion, and helped Selene down.
"Rest here," Lyra said, leading Selene toward her tent. "We'll head to Oakhart in the morning. A full day's ride won't be easy without a few hours of sleep."
Inside the command tent, the warmth of the lantern light cast long shadows. Selene sat on a small stool, her hands clasped tightly in her lap. The hope she had felt when Shawn spoke of the Moon Weavers had faded, replaced by a cold, heavy fear...
"I'm scared," Selene whispered, the words barely audible. "Not of them, but of this." She held up her hands, her voice trembling. "What my power brings. The kidnapper, the Valerians... you." Her gaze met Lyra's, full of a dawning realization. "You had to kill them all because of me. This power, it's not a gift. It's a curse."
Lyra knelt before her, her own exhaustion forgotten. She took Selene's hands in hers, her touch firm and reassuring.
"That was not your fault," she said, her voice steady and low. "That was my decision. A choice I made to protect you and to keep this secret. The world's fear is the curse, not your power."
A fragile trust bloomed between them. The weight of the bodies they had left behind still lingered, but so did the promise of the road ahead—a journey not of fear, but of truth.
"Rest," Lyra said again, her voice softer this time. She stood, pulling a heavy wool blanket from her bedroll and draping it over Selene's shoulders. The simple gesture spoke more than words, a silent promise of protection. "I'll take the first watch. Don't worry, you're safe now."
As Lyra stepped out into the night, Selene was left alone with her thoughts. She lay down on Lyra's bedroll, the scent of leather and steel clinging to the coarse wool. For the first time since she'd woken up on the battlefield, she felt a sense of peace. The legend of the Moon Weavers, the memory of bringing a soldier back from the dead, and the horror of the bodies left behind—it was all too much to process. She closed her eyes, willing sleep to come.
The Road to Oakhart
Selene woke with a jolt, the dreams still fresh in her mind. She followed Lyra out of the tent, the cold morning air a sharp shock to her system. The camp was a whirlwind of activity, with soldiers breaking down tents and packing supplies with a practiced efficiency.
Elise appeared with their horses. "General," she said with a nod. Lyra returned the gesture, her expression unreadable. She had confronted the soldier earlier, and her sincerity seemed genuine, but a general's wariness was a hard habit to break.
Shawn was already mounted, his gaze sweeping the horizon with grim determination.
He met Lyra's eyes, and a silent understanding passed between them. The suspicions he once held were gone, replaced by a shared secret and a shared purpose.
"I'll take the lead, General," he said, his voice a low rumble.
Lyra nodded, making a last check of her steed before swinging herself into the saddle. She then looked over at Selene, who was staring at the horse given to her, with wide, uncertain eyes.
"What's wrong?" Lyra asked.
Selene shook her head slightly. "I don't know how..." Surprise that she was given her own horse "I've never ridden one by myself, I think."
Lyra offered a hand. "You'll ride with me," she said, her tone firm but reassuring. "Stay close."
Selene climbed up behind her, her arms wrapping tentatively around Lyra's waist. As they rode out of the camp, the road to Oakhart stretched out before them, a long and uncertain path.