The road to Dravenhart wound like a river through the hills — its path uneven, half-swallowed by the roots of trees and the quiet hum of early spring. Mist still clung to the forest's edge, soft and low, while sunlight filtered through the leaves like spilled gold.
For the first time in weeks, Zelene felt the world breathe again.
They traveled on foot that morning, the wagon left behind to lighten their pace. The air smelled of damp soil and pine, and somewhere in the distance, a stream murmured faintly. Ray walked ahead, his stride steady despite the lingering pallor in his face. He had refused to rest, insisting that he was "fine now," though Zelene could still see the faint tremor in his hands whenever he tightened his grip on the reins of his pack.
Finn followed a few steps behind her, quiet but not withdrawn. His eyes flicked often toward the trees — curious, alert, the way a child might be when finally seeing the world beyond the walls of home.
For a while, no one spoke. Only the sound of their boots against gravel filled the air.
Zelene glanced sidelong at Ray. His hair was slightly disheveled, his collar open at the throat, and though his movements were careful, there was strength returning to them. He still carried the faint air of nobility he could never quite shake — chin lifted, posture too composed, as if born to stand taller than the world.
"You're walking too fast," she finally murmured.
Ray looked over his shoulder, lips twitching faintly. "You worry too much."
"And you overestimate yourself," she countered, matching his pace.
He gave a quiet chuckle — the first sound of levity in days. "I'm alive, aren't I?"
She wanted to roll her eyes, but instead, her lips curved into a reluctant smile. "Barely."
Behind them, Finn made a small sound, half amusement, half disapproval. "You two sound like an old married couple already."
Zelene turned. "Excuse me?"
Finn shrugged, a sly grin threatening to appear. "What? It's true."
Ray gave a low laugh, which earned him a light glare from Zelene — one that, to her annoyance, he seemed to enjoy.
But the teasing faded as the day stretched on. The warmth of the sun deepened, the forest thinned into fields, and by noon, they stopped near a small stream for rest. Zelene knelt by the water, rinsing her hands and face, the cold biting at her skin.
When she looked up, Finn was sitting on a rock not far from her, his knees pulled close, a half-eaten apple in one hand. Ray was farther off, adjusting his sword belt, pretending not to eavesdrop on whatever conversation might happen next.
Zelene dried her hands and settled beside Finn. "How are you holding up?"
He shrugged. "Better than I thought I would. The world's… bigger than I imagined. Louder, too."
"Louder?" she echoed.
"Yeah. Every sound feels new. Even the wind sounds different outside the valley." He smiled faintly, gaze dropping to the apple. "Guess I'm still getting used to it."
Zelene studied him for a moment — the way his eyes reflected sunlight, softer now, more curious than guarded. He was changing already, she thought. Not by miles traveled, but by the space growing inside him — the kind that came from finally seeing what you'd always wanted.
After a pause, Finn spoke again. "You know… Elias told me your name isn't really Lynn."
Zelene's fingers stilled. "…He did?"
"Yeah." Finn bit into the apple, tone gentle but unflinching. "But he didn't tell me your real one. Said it wasn't his story to share."
She glanced down, heart skipping once — not from fear, but from something quieter. "Then what else did he tell you?"
"Just that you're a big deal." He smiled faintly, though his tone was thoughtful. "And that you're looking for the Four Auryns."
The name hung in the air like a soft tremor.
Ray turned from where he stood, brows furrowing. "Auryns…?" he repeated. "Isn't that just a legend?"
Zelene froze. Her mind flickered back to Elias's words under the moonlight — to the ancient tale of celestial sentinels whose names had long turned to myth.
She looked at Ray. His expression was calm, almost curious — but not knowing. Not remembering.
Did he truly not know?
Or had he simply forgotten what he was?
Zelene's voice faltered. "…You've heard of them?"
Ray shrugged slightly. "Every child's heard of the Auryns. Old bedtime stories — the Flame of Will, the Veiled One, and so on. Pretty myths meant to make heroes out of dreamers."
Finn tilted his head. "You don't believe they existed?"
Ray gave a small, dismissive smile. "I believe in what's in front of me. Not in the ghosts of forgotten gods."
Zelene looked away quickly, her pulse tight. The weight of Elias's revelation pressed like a whisper at the back of her thoughts.
The Aureate Auryn's light still burns… He is closer to you than you think.
Her gaze drifted back to Ray — the faint glint of gold in his eyes when the sun caught them, the quiet steadiness in his tone when he spoke of fate as though he'd challenged it once before.
If Elias was right…
No. She couldn't think about that now.
Instead, she focused on the stream, the rippling water reflecting fragments of light. "Legends or not," she said finally, "sometimes what's forgotten isn't lost. Just waiting to be found again."
Finn looked at her, his expression unreadable — thoughtful, maybe even a little awed.
Ray only smiled faintly, as if humoring her. "And you plan to be the one to find them, then?"
Zelene's fingers brushed the edge of her cloak, her voice low but firm. "If finding them can tell me why my family was murdered… then yes."
For a long while, no one spoke. The wind carried the smell of earth and blooming wildflowers. Somewhere above, a hawk circled lazily across the sky.
When Ray finally sat beside her, he said nothing — just offered her the waterskin without looking her way. Their fingers brushed briefly, and something unspoken passed between them.
Finn watched from a distance, quiet, the faintest flicker of something — curiosity? envy? — crossing his expression.
As the sun began to dip below the treeline, the three continued down the narrow road, their shadows stretching long across the path.
Ray walked ahead again, shoulders squared against the wind. Zelene followed, her eyes lingering on him — on the man who might carry a piece of the ancient flame without even knowing it.
And behind them, Finn adjusted his pack, his thoughts caught somewhere between admiration and unease. He couldn't decide which was heavier: the mystery that surrounded Zelene… or the way the air between her and Ray seemed to hum with something just out of reach.
The world around them shifted into gold and violet twilight.
And for the first time since they'd left the valley, Zelene felt the weight of destiny stir again — quiet, patient, and waiting for her to take another step closer.