I should have known.
That was the part that bothered me most.
Not betrayal.
Not escape.
Not even the fact that she looked at me with sadness instead of anger.
I should have known the moment her hand settled near my side.
Too light.
Too brief.
Too natural.
Little thief.
Lyra's eyes held mine.
For one impossible second, neither of us moved.
Then—
her palms slammed against my chest.
Hard.
I stumbled backward.
Not far.
Three steps.
Enough.
"WILLOW!"
The floor exploded.
Stone cracked beneath us as vines and roots tore upward through the ancient chamber, thick as tree trunks, twisting violently between us.
A wall of ivy surged toward the ceiling.
My shadows reacted instantly.
Too late.
Willow had already moved.
Roots wrapped around her own ankles first.
Then Revik's.
Then Lyra's.
Not attacking.
Pulling.
Protecting.
Transporting.
The surviving guards shouted as more roots burst through the floor around them, dragging them down before they understood what was happening.
Lyra stood on the other side of the growing wall.
Half-hidden behind leaves and shattered stone.
Her expression was calm.
Too calm.
No.
Not calm.
Resolved.
"I'm sorry," she said.
The thread tightened painfully.
And gods—
she meant it.
"But I can't let you reach the relic before I do."
I stepped forward.
The ivy thickened instantly.
Blocking me.
Blocking everything.
"Lyra."
Her name came out sharper than I intended.
She didn't flinch.
Of course she didn't.
She simply looked at me like she was trying to memorize my face before disappearing.
That was worse.
Far worse.
Then the ground opened beneath her.
Revik vanished first, swearing loudly enough that even the earth probably regretted taking him.
Willow followed without hesitation.
Lyra remained until the last possible second.
The thread stretched.
Tighter.
Thinner.
Hurting.
Her violet eyes stayed locked on mine.
Then—
earth swallowed her whole.
The floor sealed behind them.
Silence crashed down.
The chamber felt suddenly enormous.
Empty.
Wrong.
I stared at the place where she had stood.
For longer than I should have.
Mortimer sighed.
That was spectacularly foolish.
I didn't answer.
You had the advantage.
"Yes."
You lost it.
"I noticed."
Because she hugged you.
My jaw tightened.
Mortimer laughed softly.
Pathetic.
Maybe.
The word should have angered me more.
Instead I remained still, staring at the sealed stone.
The thread still existed.
Alive.
Moving.
Below.
She was already gone.
Already running.
And I—
I had let her again...
The realization settled unpleasantly in my chest.
Outside, horns sounded.
One.
Then another.
My signal.
Boots thundered through the corridors moments later.
Fire Nation soldiers poured into the ruined chamber, blades drawn, shadows stretching behind them in the torchlight.
My captain stopped near the broken doorway.
His gaze swept over the scene.
The dead king.
The ruined walls.
The split floor.
Then finally—
me.
"My prince."
His expression remained carefully blank.
Trained well.
"What happened?"
I looked once more at the place where the ground had swallowed her.
"A little thief happened."
He blinked once.
"I see."
"You don't."
"No, my prince."
At least he was honest.
Mortimer stirred again, irritated now.
'At least we still have the map.'
Correct.
The map.
The routes beneath the prison.
The old foundations.
The chambers.
The single most valuable piece of parchment in the Earth Kingdom.
My hand moved automatically to the inside pocket of my coat.
Empty.
I went still.
Slowly, I checked again.
Nothing.
Another pocket.
Nothing.
The outer fold.
Nothing.
The inner lining.
Still nothing.
Very carefully—
very deliberately—
I replayed the last few minutes.
Lyra stepping closer.
Her expression soft.
Her arms around me.
Her hand near my side.
Resting.
No.
Not resting.
Searching.
Light fingers.
A breath of contact.
A thief's touch.
My eyes closed.
Absolutely not.
Mortimer was silent for three heartbeats.
Then he laughed.
Not quietly.
Not elegantly.
He laughed until the shadows trembled.
'Well consoder me impressed.'
'She stole it.' he roared.
My captain looked deeply alarmed.
"My prince?"
I opened my eyes.
Stared at the sealed earth.
And despite everything—
despite the mission—
despite the fact that she had just stolen weeks of work from my coat while saying goodbye—
a reluctant smile pulled at my mouth.
"Clever girl."
Mortimer groaned.
'She humiliated you.'
"She impressed me."
'That is worse.'
Probably.
The captain shifted carefully.
"Do you want us to pursue?"
I looked toward the floor.
The tunnels beneath us were old.
Unstable.
Mostly unmapped.
Willow could move through earth as easily as some people walked roads.
Lyra had the map now.
And Revik—
well.
Revik would probably complain loudly enough to scare off anything living beneath the mountain but if he did make contact he is one hell of a swordsman.
"They have a head start," I said.
"Yes, my prince."
"They're going in blind."
Mortimer scoffed.
'They have the map.'
"They have part of the map."
Not a lie.
Not entirely.
The researchers had copied enough.
But not everything.
No map could account for collapsed chambers.
Ancient locks.
Divine wards.
The prison itself.
Lyra was confident.
Too confident.
That worried me more than it should have.
"She's reckless," I said.
Mortimer's amusement sharpened.
And you are concerned.
"I'm practical."
You are transparent.
My captain wisely said nothing.
I turned toward him.
"Signal the teams. We move immediately."
"Yes, my prince."
"And captain?"
He paused.
"Double the scouts at every passage. If you see vines, cracks, fresh earth, or anything that looks like her—do not engage."
His brows lifted slightly.
"Do not engage?"
"She will make you regret it."
A pause.
Then—
"Yes, my prince."
Smart man.
The soldiers moved instantly.
Orders rippled through the fortress.
Boots pounding.
Weapons drawn.
Researchers shouting over parchment copies and half-finished notes.
Chaos.
Useful chaos.
I stepped toward the broken window overlooking the prison hidden beyond the cliffs.
The sky outside had darkened fully now.
Wind carried snow in thin, sharp streaks across the mountainside.
Somewhere beneath my feet, Lyra was moving through old earth with my map in her hands.
Toward the same relic.
The same prison.
The same war.
The thread pulsed.
Soft.
Distant.
Almost smug.
I narrowed my eyes.
"You're enjoying this," I muttered.
No answer.
Of course not.
But I could almost feel her smile.
Mortimer circled the back of my mind like smoke.
This is why attachments are weaknesses.
"No," I said quietly.
The word surprised even me.
Mortimer stilled.
I looked down toward the dark shape of the prison.
Toward the place everything had always been leading.
"Attachments are only weaknesses if you fail to understand them."
And what is she, then?
I didn't answer immediately.
Enemy.
Ally.
Little thief.
Primal Dragon.
Something more.
The only person alive who could steal from me and make me smile afterward.
A problem.
A dangerous one.
Perhaps the most dangerous one.
Finally, I turned from the window.
The shadows gathered at my feet.
"She's competition."
Mortimer laughed quietly.
No.
His voice curled through my skull like smoke.
She is much worse than that.
I didn't ask what he meant.
I already knew.
I walked toward the shattered doorway, soldiers falling into formation behind me.
By the time we reached the lower hall, the fortress had fully awakened.
Fire banners unfurled outside.
Horses screamed in the courtyard.
Men prepared to enter tunnels that had not been walked in centuries.
All because of one relic.
One prophecy.
One woman who had stolen my map.
Again.
My smile returned before I could stop it.
Small.
Sharp.
Unwise.
Very well, little thief.
Run.
Hide.
Steal.
I would still find her.
Not because she had the map.
Not because we are both aft
er the relic.
Because the thread between us would not let either of us truly disappear.
And if she thought swallowing herself into the earth was enough to keep me away—
then she had forgotten the first lesson of being a thief.
Thieves were only worth chasing—
when they stole something valuable.