The plains stretched endlessly westward, a rippling ocean of grass under a pale sky. For the first time since his arrival, Aiden could see the horizon, free of walls, soldiers, or chanting circles. It should have felt liberating. Instead, it felt too wide, too empty.
They followed the river, staying low where reeds grew thick. Lyra's cloak was torn, her braid damp with dew. She had stopped using magic to keep them warm; every spark could betray their trail.
By noon, both were limping.
"Tell me again," Aiden said, voice hoarse, "why we can't just… find a city and blend in."
"Because the Matrons marked your aura," Lyra replied. "To them, your presence is like fire in the dark. You could shave your hair, wear a veil, it wouldn't matter."
"Great," he muttered. "Human tracking beacon."
She almost smiled. "You make jokes when you're scared."
"Who says I'm scared?"
"The way you look at every shadow."
He sighed and didn't argue.
Toward dusk they found a narrow road half-swallowed by weeds. Crumbling stones lined the path, signs of an old trade route. Lyra studied the moss-covered milestones. "This leads to the low marshes. If the village exists, it'll be there."
Aiden glanced up. "And if it doesn't?"
"Then we keep moving. West is freedom, east is death."
"Clear enough."
They walked until stars began to pierce the twilight. The land turned soft underfoot, the air heavy with the smell of water and wildflowers. Frogs croaked in unseen pools. Somewhere far behind, thunder rumbled, magic or weather, they couldn't tell.
Lyra stumbled, catching herself on a broken post. "I need to rest."
Aiden nodded. He set down his pack, which wasn't much: a canteen, a bit of bread, a knife he barely knew how to use. "We camp here?"
"For tonight." She knelt and murmured a charm. Small lights like fireflies rose around them, forming a faint circle of safety. "Ward against predators," she explained. "It lasts till dawn."
Aiden lay back on the grass. The stars were sharper here, no city haze to dull them. He thought of home, dorm rooms, late-night screens, the hum of traffic. It already felt like a dream.
"Lyra," he said softly. "What did you think would happen? Before I came?"
She hesitated. "I thought we would celebrate. That the ritual would bring salvation. That I would be honored." A bitter laugh. "Instead, I broke the world's last miracle."
He turned his head. "You didn't break it. You just freed me."
"Same thing, to them."
They lay in silence, the night breathing around them.
Sometime past midnight, the ward flickered. Lyra sat up instantly, hand glowing faint blue.
"Something's near."
Aiden reached for the knife. "Soldiers?"
She shook her head, listening. "No armor. Softer… footsteps."
The reeds parted, revealing a hooded figure carrying a staff topped with herbs. Moonlight caught the glint of metal bracelets. The stranger stopped at the edge of the ward and spoke in a calm, lilting voice.
"Your circle's fading. You'll draw swamp-wraiths before morning."
Lyra tensed. "Who are you?"
"Someone who doesn't like seeing travelers eaten," the stranger said, lowering her hood. She was older than Lyra but not by much, skin bronze from sun, hair silver-white despite her youth. Her eyes glowed faintly green, like deep water. "Name's Eira. Healer."
Lyra didn't drop her guard. "You shouldn't be here. The marshes are forbidden."
"So are most useful places." Eira stepped closer. "May I enter?"
The ward shimmered. Lyra studied her, then nodded. "You can."
Eira crossed the boundary. The air settled. She glanced at Aiden. "And you must be the one everyone's whispering about."
Aiden stiffened. "That obvious?"
"To anyone with eyes," she said gently. "The mana around you ripples. You're like a stone thrown into still water."
Lyra's hand hovered near her spell crystal. "If you're here to collect a bounty..."
"I'm not a hunter." Eira knelt and placed a small orb on the ground. It glowed soft gold. "I'm here because I believe the prophecy was never meant to enslave one man."
Lyra's suspicion faltered. "You know the prophecy?"
"I've studied the Blight since I was a child. The end of the male line wasn't nature's punishment, it was our mistake. We poisoned the balance." Eira looked at Aiden. "You might be able to mend it."
Aiden frowned. "I don't even understand how this world works."
"Then you'll learn. But first, you both need rest and clean water. My hut's not far."
Lyra hesitated. "We can't risk a trap."
Eira smiled. "If I wanted to capture you, I'd have done it already. The ward wouldn't stop me."
Aiden glanced at Lyra. "She's got a point."
After a long pause, Lyra sighed. "Fine. Lead the way."
They followed Eira through the reeds. The path wound between glowing pools where strange lilies floated, their petals shifting colors like breath. Fireflies lit the fog. It felt unreal, beautiful and dangerous.
Eira's hut appeared at last: a dome of woven reeds and crystal shards. Inside, the air smelled of mint and smoke. Shelves were lined with vials, scrolls, dried herbs. She poured them each a cup of warm, bitter tea.
Lyra sniffed it. "Sleep-root?"
"Just enough to calm your nerves," Eira said. "You're safe here."
Aiden took a sip. It tasted like earth and citrus. The exhaustion in his bones softened. "How did you find this place?"
"I built it," Eira said simply. "Healers aren't welcome in the cities anymore. Too many questions, too few miracles."
Lyra watched her. "You said the prophecy was misunderstood."
Eira nodded. "The Return of the Seed wasn't about flesh. It was about balance. Male and female energies, mana of sun and moon. When the plague wiped out men, half the world's mana faded. You," she gestured at Aiden, "carry what's left of that half."
Aiden leaned forward. "So… I'm not supposed to...uh...repopulate anything?"
Eira chuckled. "Not in the crude sense. Your presence alone awakens dormant energies. The forest's reaction proves it. You drew mana like a native."
Lyra blinked. "Then the ritual worked differently than we thought."
"Exactly. You were never meant to be a breeder, Aiden Rogue. You were meant to be a bridge."
The words sank into him like stones into water. For the first time, the weight on his chest shifted, from fear to something like purpose.
Later, when Lyra slept beside the embers, Aiden stepped outside. The marsh shimmered under the moon. Somewhere, distant thunder still muttered, but here all was calm.
Eira joined him quietly. "You're adapting faster than most outsiders."
"I don't feel like I am."
"Fear keeps the mind sharp," she said. "But soon you'll need more than fear."
He looked at her. "You believe I can fix this world?"
"I believe the world brought you for a reason. And reasons can be learned."
Aiden nodded slowly. The horizon was a faint silver line beyond the reeds. He didn't know where it led, only that he wasn't alone anymore.
Behind them, Lyra stirred in her sleep, whispering his name.
The night deepened, full of new questions and the first fragile threads of trust.