There are moments when battle feels easier than silence.
This was one of them.
I sat beside Lei Mira in the highest forge of Skyforge while thunder rolled softly beyond the open windows and the Forgeheart burnt below the citadel like the pulse of the realm itself.
No armies.
No trials.
No giant men with hammers trying to improve my personality through violence.
Just two people and the weight of things; neither of us knew how to say it properly.
Honestly?
Terrifying.
Lei Mira still held Queen Elyra's journal in both hands.
Carefully.
Like grief became heavier when it was finally allowed to exist.
The storm outside had quieted.
Not gone.
Just listening.
Very appropriate.
For a long time, neither of us spoke.
I had learned by now that sovereigns did not need fixing.
Usually, they just needed someone who didn't mistake silence for emptiness.
So I stayed quiet.
Which, for me, was practically a supernatural achievement.
Finally, Lei Mira spoke.
"When I was twelve, I broke the west forge."
I blinked.
That was not the opening topic I expected.
"I feel like there's a very good story attached to that sentence."
"There is."
She leaned back slightly, eyes on the forge fire instead of me.
"My mother told me I was too angry to hold lightning."
Fair.
"She said thunder answers emotion before it answers strength."
Also fair.
"I decided to prove her wrong."
I smiled already.
Dangerous.
"And?"
Lei Mira looked completely serious.
"I accidentally summoned a storm inside the royal forge."
I lost the battle against laughter immediately.
"I'm sorry—inside?"
"Yes."
"How much of the forge survived?"
"A wall."
I nodded wisely.
"Excellent. Strong wall."
For the first time since entering the room, she laughed properly.
Loud.
Real.
Unrestrained.
And there it was again—
proof that the woman beneath the armour had always existed.
Just buried under enough duty to qualify as architecture.
When the laughter faded, her voice softened.
"She was furious."
A pause.
"Then she made me rebuild it myself."
That sounded exactly right.
I could almost see Queen Elyra standing there, disappointed but not surprised.
Lei Mira traced the edge of the journal.
"She never let me mistake power for permission."
That line stayed.
Because that was the difference.
Between rulers and tyrants.
Between sovereigns and the people trying to control them.
I looked at her.
"She was proud of you."
Lei Mira's jaw tightened slightly.
"I know."
Not arrogance.
Relief.
There was a difference.
And maybe that was the whole point.
Outside, lightning flashed across the storm clouds.
Beautiful.
Distant.
No longer threatening.
She turned toward me.
Golden eyes were sharp again, but no longer guarded.
"You should leave before dawn."
I blinked.
Romantic.
Very direct.
Excellent.
I pointed at myself.
"Emotionally or physically?"
"Both are possible."
Reasonable.
I leant back against the forge table.
"Your timing is terrible. I was just becoming fond of being insulted by royalty."
Lei Mira crossed her arms.
"That can still be arranged."
Good.
Stability restored.
Then her expression changed.
Serious.
The kind that made jokes feel disrespectful.
"The next gate is worse."
I said nothing.
Because we were long past pretending otherwise.
She continued.
"The fourth sovereign does not rule a kingdom."
A pause.
"She rules war."
That sounded aggressively unhelpful.
"The Ashen Dominion."
Even the name felt like a threat.
"Where kingdoms do not rise, they survive."
Wonderful.
I really appreciated how every new destination sounded like a warning label.
She stepped closer.
"The Obsidian Covenant has strong roots there. Stronger than here."
Ashborn, again.
Always one step ahead.
I hated his consistency.
"And the sovereign?" I asked.
Lei Mira's voice lowered.
"Vira."
The name hit differently.
Not because I knew it.
Because she said it like a memory.
"She was once my closest friend."
Ah.
There it was.
Pain.
The specific kind that only came from people who knew exactly where to hurt you.
I stayed quiet.
She looked toward the storm.
"We trained together before crowns made everything political."
Her hand tightened slightly against the journal.
"She chose the battlefield. I chose exile."
A pause.
"We have not stood on the same side since."
Not enemies.
Worse.
History.
I understood immediately.
Because betrayal was easy.
Distance was harder.
Especially when both people were still right.
"She'll hate me," I said.
Lei Mira almost smiled.
"She will test whether you deserve to breathe."
Honestly?
Clear communication.
I respected it.
ARINA's panel flashed.
Main Quest Updated: Next Destination: Ashen Dominion Primary Sovereign: Vira Threat Level: Extreme Additional Note: Trust Deficit Expected
Trust deficit expected.
That might have been the most accurate system message yet.
I sighed.
"Wonderful. I was worried my life was becoming emotionally manageable."
Lei Mira reached into her forge cabinet and pulled out something wrapped in black cloth.
She placed it on the table between us.
I unfolded it carefully.
A bracelet.
Forged from silver-black metal threaded with blue lightning veins, centred by a storm crystal shard.
Beautiful.
Dangerously expensive.
I looked at her.
"This feels like a trap."
"It is a promise."
That was worse.
Way worse.
She picked it up and fastened it around my wrist herself.
The metal warmed instantly.
The storm outside answered with a low rumble.
"Stormguard Band," she said.
"It carries my authority in Skyforge and my call beyond it."
The system panel blinked.
Special Item Received: Stormguard Band Effect: Thunder Sovereign Authority Emergency Summon Lightning Resistance
I was collecting sovereign artefacts like the universe was building a political scandal around me.
Lian's sigil.
Yue Xiang's crest.
Lei Mira's band.
At this point, I was one misunderstanding away from starting an interdimensional diplomatic incident.
I looked at the bracelet.
Then at her.
"This is important."
"Yes."
Dangerously calm answer.
I exhaled slowly.
"Then thank you."
No joke.
No deflection.
Just truth.
Lei Mira nodded once.
Accepted.
Then she said, very quietly—
"Do not disappear."
Simple words.
Heavy enough to bend the room.
I looked at her.
The woman who trusted tests more than promises.
At the daughter who had spent too long believing strength meant standing alone.
And I answered the only way that mattered.
"I'll come back."
Not because it sounded right.
Because it was.
She studied me for a long moment.
Then—
very softly—
"Good."
Outside, thunder rolled across the sky like a threat.
The fourth gate was waiting.
Another world.
Another sovereign.
Another war.
But this time, leaving didn't feel like escape.
It felt like carrying something worth returning for.
Maybe that was the difference.
Maybe that was what all of this had been teaching me.
Not how to save worlds.
How to belong to them.
And honestly—
That was much more dangerous.