Lamberra's eyes snapped open. Air tore into her lungs as if she had surfaced from deep water, and a violent surge of energy rushed through her body. It was hot and uncontained. It crashed from her chest outward to her body.
The bed beneath her was wrong. Far too soft. It swallowed her shoulders and hips, silken sheets cool against overheated skin. The mattress gave so deeply that she felt pinned by comfort, cradled and restrained all at once. Above her, a chandelier swayed faintly, newly lit candles trembling in their brass cups. The flames cast warm gold across a ceiling painted with ivy and stags.
For one disoriented second, she thought she was back at the inn with Lacey.
Then, another surge of energy rushed through her body. It bore down on her chest, not physical weight but a dense force pressing her into the mattress. Her body refused to respond to her will. She tried to lift her arm. Nothing. Tried to turn her head but couldn't. Just open eyes.
A faint ringing filled her ears. It was high and persistent. It drowned out the edges of sound. There were voices to her right. She sensed them but they blurred into shapeless murmur.
That's when panic began to flare. Her heart attempted to race, but even that felt distant, like it belonged to someone else. Her fingers lay limp at her sides. Her legs felt like stone.
Move. Move. Move. But there was nothing.
Then.
"That was amazing, Lamberra." Belli's voice cut cleanly through the haze. It was her bright voice as always, pleased even. Lamberra's eyes shifted. Slowly and painfully to the right.
Belli stood near the bed, clapping her hands together with genuine delight. Her fiery red hair fell loosely over her shoulders, a few strands out of place. Her eyes gleamed. Lamberra's gaze dragged upward as Belli extended one hand, palm facing her.
Flawless skin.
"See?" Belli said, pride warming her tone. "No scar."
Lamberra tried to respond. Tried to demand what the hell had happened. Tried to say anything but her lips did not obey.
Belli noticed immediately.
"You probably can't talk or move yet," she said quickly, stepping closer to the bed. "And that's okay." She waved a hand as if paralysis were a minor inconvenience.
"You overexerted yourself. Happens to the best of us. Especially in training."
The words echoed strangely inside Lamberra's mind.
She just used magic. Her mind reeled, grasping for rational anchors and finding none. The memory of emerald light bursting from her palms flickered in fragments. There was heat and dizziness. Then Belli's laughter.
Belli leaned casually against the edge of the bed, crossing her arms. The mattress dipped slightly under her weight.
"Everyone has some level of mana," she continued, settling into explanation as though lecturing in a sunlit study rather than beside a half-paralyzed girl. "Every human. Every elf."
Her gaze slid pointedly toward Lamberra at that word.
But there are exceptions," Belli went on. "Like us. Emerald Children."
Us.
"We have an overabundance of energy! That's why we can do things others can't."
Her lips curved into a knowing smirk.
"Ever feel restless at night? Like sleep refuses to claim you, even when you're exhausted? That hum under your skin that won't quiet?" She tapped her own sternum lightly. "That's your overabundance at work."
Lamberra's stomach twisted. The sleepless nights. The pacing. Feeling hungry all those extra hours because she couldn't sleep.
She still refused to believe. This all had to be a coincidence.
"Oh, shut it, Belli."
The voice came from deeper in the room. It was rough and textured. It carried the weight of someone used to being heard. It was familiar.
Lamberra's eyes dragged toward the corner. It was Bell's younger brother Willow.
He stood near a tall arched window, arms crossed over a broad chest. He seemed too large for the room, like furniture had been arranged around him rather than the other way around. His fiery red hair like his sister's spilled down his back in loose waves, catching the candlelight like banked embers. Everything about him was bigger. Broader shoulders. Longer stride. Even his silence occupied space.
When he looked at Belli, irritation edged his expression. When he looked at Lamberra, it softened.
"Hi there, Lamberra," he said, voice gentler now.
Then his gaze shifted back to his sister, and the warmth receded.
"You should've waited until I got home," he added. "This wasn't how we were supposed to do this. I had to end military training early the moment I heard the sky crack open."
The reprimand hung between them.
"You're being dramatic," Belli dismissed lightly, flicking her wrist as though brushing away dust. "She'll be fine."
Willow's jaw tightened, but he knew not to argue further.
Belli turned back to Lamberra and stepped closer. Her hands began to glow again. Soft at first, then brighter, green light pooling along her fingertips. Lamberra's pulse tried to spike, but her body still felt caught in molasses.
Belli leaned down, bringing her mouth near Lamberra's ear. She whispered something. An incantation, the syllables flowing too quickly and too quietly for Lamberra to catch.
Then, the world detonated. A shockwave ripped through her body, not from outside but from within. It was as if lightning had been poured directly into her veins. Every nerve lit simultaneously. Every muscle seized. Her head slammed backward against the carved wooden headboard with a brutal crack. Pain burst behind her eyes. Air tore from her lungs in a violent gasp.
"What the fuck, Belli!?" The words exploded out of her before she could filter them. Her fingers curled reflexively into the sheets. Her legs jerked beneath the covers. Sensation flooded back in painful waves. Pins and needles all over.
Willow threw his head back and laughed. It wasn't cruel laughter. It was bright and unrestrained, filling the high-ceilinged room easily.
"Out of all the times we've trained," he said between chuckles, gesturing lazily toward Belli, "and I've beaten her to a pulp-"
"Exaggeration," Belli muttered.
"She's never cursed at me."
His grin widened as he looked at Lamberra again, amusement dancing in his eyes.
"Well…that's twice actually." Lamberra said sheepishly which sent both the Mira's into great laughter filling the room.
Lamberra couldn't laugh. The chandelier candles flickered overhead, light trembling across polished wood and silk sheets. She just watched her eyes waiting to see if they would glow again.
Belli's left eyebrow arched slowly as she turned toward her brother, the motion precise and deliberate. A smirk tugged at the corner of her mouth.
"Such spark," she mused, tilting her head as though examining a rare specimen rather than her half-dazed friend. "Is she like this when you two train?"
Willow's answering grin came easily. It was wide and wolfish.
"Oh yeah," he said, pushing off the wall with a lazy roll of his shoulders. "When she gets mad, she turns into a different animal."
Lamberra bristled immediately.
"I'm not mad," she muttered, the words coming sharper than intended.
Her fingers moved to her hair, which had fallen loose during the shockwave. Strands clung to her temples and neck. She tried to gather it into a bun, but her hands fumbled, clumsy and unreliable. The tremor hadn't fully left her muscles. Her arms felt hollowed out, like the marrow had been scooped from them.
"Just confused. Lost." Her breath escaped in a frustrated exhale as another strand slipped free.
"Calm, Lamberra." Belli's voice softened instantly, losing its teasing edge. She stepped closer and gently replaced Lamberra's hands with her own.
Her touch was light but practiced. Fingers swift and sure, weaving and twisting with unconscious elegance. Lamberra felt the warmth of her skin against her scalp, steady and controlled.
"You'll be okay," Belli murmured. The words settled over her like a cloak she wasn't certain she deserved.
In a matter of seconds, Belli secured the bun neatly at the back of her head. She stepped back, examining her work with a critical tilt of her chin, like an artist evaluating a finished brushstroke.
"You have incredible potential. We have the potential to fix this broken Kingdom." Belli said.
Belli's eyes locked onto hers.
"And maybe," she added quietly, "you'd like to join me on that journey."
The room seemed to narrow around them. Lamberra blinked. Then let out a nervous, breathless laugh.
"W–what?"
The idea felt absurd.
"I'm not even an elf."
The words sounded weaker than she meant them to. Belli shrugged lightly, as though lineage were a minor inconvenience.
"No matter. That's the point!" she said, leaning forward slightly. "To show humans and elves can work together."
"Why do you think they gave us mansions in the slums after the peace treaty?" Willow cut in, his voice losing its playful lilt. A thread of bitterness crept beneath the surface.
He leaned back against the wall again, arms crossing tightly.
"It's to make humans hate us," he continued. "We're rich, but you're poor."
There was no accusation in his tone. Just blunt recognition.
Lamberra's stomach twisted. She wrapped her arms around herself without thinking. She had grown up in those streets. Knew the smell of stagnant water in summer. Knew what hunger did to patience.
"How does being a secret Emerald Child help with any of that?" she asked quietly. "What could I possibly do? I'm weak." Her voice wasn't defensive now. Only raw.
Belli crossed back to the bed and sat on the edge again, posture composed but intent.
"We'll train. Like you do with Willow with swordplay," she said gently. "For now, let's focus on your magic. Your reading. Your writing."
Her eyes softened.
"I believe anyone with the ability to do any of those things should learn how."
There was steel beneath the warmth. Conviction that ran deep.
"As for politics?" Belli added, tilting her head, her tone lightening deliberately. "We'll cross that bridge when we come to it."
Suddenly, the topic shifted from Belli.
"Are you hungry?"
For a flicker of a moment, Belli sounded like Mama. It was firm but nurturing.
Lamberra hesitated. Then a slow, crooked smirk tugged at her lips.
"I'm not sure if I wanna eat right now."
"There she is!" Willow exclaimed.
In two long strides, he was in front of her, stitching out a broad hand. Lamberra studied it for half a second. The calluses, the faint scars across knuckles.
She took it. His grip was firm and steady, anchoring. With one effortless pull, he hauled her to her feet. Her legs wobbled slightly but held.
"We're going to change the world," Willow declared, enthusiasm bursting through him like a second heartbeat. "The three of us! Just like I've always said, ever since we were kids!"
The room seemed smaller around his energy.
"You've been saying that forever," Belli sighed dramatically as she rose, rolling her eyes. "You're not the one who has to spend weeks in the capital where everyone hates you."
A playful smirk betrayed her affection.
"Besides," she added dryly, "we're still children."
Lamberra followed them out of the bedroom and down the corridor toward the kitchen. The estate's polished floors reflected the chandelier light in elongated ribbons. Tapestries lined the walls: woven battles, ancient forests, golden crests.
The scent of simmering broth grew stronger with each step. Earthy mushrooms, herbs, slow-cooked stock. Her stomach clenched despite herself.
They entered the dining space, and her gaze immediately snagged on the large oil painting mounted along the far wall.
The great elfen general Rowena Mira.
He loomed above them in broad, confident strokes: sharp elven features, high cheekbones, eyes that seemed to assess even from canvas. His red hair with silver threads pulled back, framed a face carved by discipline and something quieter beneath it.
Four years ago, the Battle of Blade's Crossing had taken him.
Lamberra remembered the whispers in the market, the way voices had dropped when his name was spoken. He was an elf, and standard humans despised him and even celebrated his death. However, since his death the Kingdom Military hasn't fought another battle.
The war between the Kingdom of Stormhaven and the Kingdom of Aurelia had been vicious. Fought over water routes and mining rights, the contested lands of Blade's Crossing bleeding both sides dry.
After the elfen genocide, the treaty had come with a major provision: every male elf bound to fight in future wars in place of humans. Rowena Mira was the general.
One of the last commanders sent forward. Fifty soldiers under his command against five hundred Aurelians. The biggest victory in Stormhaven history, but Rowena Mira laid slain.
Without him, there would have been no peace. He had united humans and elves in a way few ever could since the genocide. Even now, the Mira name carried weight like an iron crown, dripping with respect. Something Belli and Willow take advantage of.
"I miss your father," Lamberra murmured before she could stop herself. Her voice came softer than intended. Her eyes traced the painted lines of his jaw, the suggestion of warmth hidden in the brushstrokes. "He had such a warm laugh," she added. "This painting… it doesn't do him justice."
"Are you calling my late father sexy, Lamberra?" Belli croaked out, lightening the mood.
Willow's grin was sharp, mischief flashing like a blade catching light. The playful jab shattered the heaviness.
Lamberra huffed despite herself, a small laugh escaping. Belli chuckled too, shaking her head as she ladled steaming mushroom soup into wooden bowls.
"The frightening thing," Belli said, lips twitching, "is he would've loved your company, Lamberra." There was sincerity tucked inside the tease.
Lamberra straightened slightly, matching their energy.
"I don't know," she shot back, tilting her head toward Willow. "Would you let me court him if he were still here?"
Willow let out a booming laugh that bounced off the high ceilings. Even Belli's shoulders shook with quiet amusement.
"No, after mother died giving birth to Willow, he did have his eyes set on your mother." She teased with a small playful look of truth towards her.
She set a bowl of mushroom soup in front of Lamberra, along with a thick piece of crusty bread. Steam curled upward, carrying a rich, earthy fragrance. She knew immediately what a luxury this was. Mushrooms were scarce. Difficult soil. Private gardens. Resources the slums did not possess. Her mother's patch had never yielded more than wilted greens and stubborn roots.
She reached for the spoon but her hand trembled. Not from emotion this time but from the lingering aftershock of burned-out mana. The weakness clung to her like chains still wrapped around her wrists.
The spoon rattled softly against the wooden bowl. The small sound felt far louder to Lamberra than it truly was. Just wood against clay, a faint tremor betraying her.
"Here." Belli was already moving. She dragged a chair close enough that their knees touched and gently took the spoon from Lamberra's unsteady fingers. "Relax," Belli said, her tone firm but warm. "You need to restore your mana output. Your energy. It's going to take a few days."
A few days. The phrase landed heavily. Lamberra sulked inwardly at the indignity of it. Being fed like a child, like Amara after a fever. But she trusted Belli. Trusted her hands. Trusted the steady calm in her voice. She opened her mouth reluctantly and accepted a small spoonful.
The broth was rich and earthy, the mushrooms soft, the warmth spreading slowly through her chest and down into the hollow ache in her limbs.
"I was there the day you split yourself in two, you know." The spoon paused halfway back to the bowl.
Lamberra's brows knit faintly. Split herself. So it was true. The scar down her side was healed from healing magic like Lacey claimed…but…how did she know?
Belli continued, her free hand coming up to rub Lamberra's shoulder in slow circles.
"We were playing by the ravine. You slipped." Her voice softened, losing its teasing edge. "You fell in."
The memory flickered in Lamberra's mind :mud, sharp rock, the smell of iron.
"I looked down and your body was lifeless," Belli said quietly. "Blood pouring from the seams. "I knew I could help. Father had already taught me the basics of healing magic." Her fingers pressed gently into Lamberra's shoulder, grounding her. "Willow ran to get both Father and Selma. But when I looked back…" She smiled faintly.
"I saw that emerald glow on your side. The blood stopped. I could see shallow breaths."
The kitchen felt very still.
"Oh, Father and Selma were furious," Belli added with a soft huff of amusement. "But I knew then and there; I wasn't alone."
The words slipped beneath Lamberra's skin.
"I don't know what the future holds," Belli went on, feeding her another careful spoonful, "but I promise we're going to be okay. We'll be the change our father…and yes, even your mother wanted."
Lamberra's expression shifted. Confusion lingered, but something else began to settle beneath it. She gave a soft smile. A quiet, unspoken agreement formed between them. It was fragile but real.
Willow watched the exchange carefully. He noticed the way Lamberra's shoulders were still too tense, the way her fingers hovered uncertainly near the bowl. His grin faded, replaced by a knowing frown as he shot Belli a look.
"You wrecked this poor girl," he grumbled. "She wasn't ready to burn her mana down to zero yet."
Belli rolled her eyes but set the bowl aside. She stepped behind Lamberra, placing her palms gently against her back. A cool warmth spread from her fingertips and a wave of energy crashed through Lamberra's body.
Her back arched sharply, breath seized mid-lung. A gasp tore from her throat as raw, tingling power flooded every vein. It was not like the earlier surge, this was controlled and directed but no less intense.
Her vision flashed white. Her heart stuttered. Then just as quickly as it came, it vanished.
The silence afterward felt enormous. Lamberra sagged forward, breathing heavily, palms braced against the table and stared at her hands. They were now completely still as the tremors were gone.
"I guess I have a lot to learn," she muttered, rubbing the back of her neck.
Belli grinned triumphantly. "See? You're already coming around."
"Will I be okay to travel tomorrow?" Lamberra asked hesitantly.
The energy still hummed faintly inside her, unfamiliar but not hostile.
"Travel?" Willow leaned forward. "Where to?"
"I'm heading to Siburg," she admitted. "If Mister Finch has a supply run for me. It pays well enough to keep my family going for a couple months." She hated the way her voice dipped slightly at the confession.
"No worries!" Willow straightened immediately. "I'm heading to Siburg too. Military training mission with our outer units." His grin returned full force. "Shall I accompany you? As repayment for Belli's sins?"
"Oh, uh. Well… yes." Warmth bloomed in her chest unexpectedly. "I've never traveled with anyone before," she added with a small chuckle. "So the company would be nice."
She finally picked up her spoon again. This time, her hands did not tremble but Belli still sat right beside her. Hand her cheek watching the new conversation with a soft smile.
Hunger struck all at once, sharp and insistent. She devoured the soup, the warmth soaking into her bones. Belli stood and took the bowl and made her more soup, knowing Lamberra wasn't going to ask.
"The two of you staying at Duke's inn?" Belli asked lightly. "Good luck getting him to shut up." Her eyes flicked mischievously toward Lamberra. "Or stop staring at you all night."
"Duke's?" Willow scoffed. "No. Haven't stayed there in years. I usually camp by the lake a few miles past his place." He leaned back, smug.
"Ah. The famous lake," Belli replied dryly.
"What's the issue? Willow's lake is beautiful," he insisted, dramatically emphasizing the word.
Belli shot Lamberra a mockingly solemn glance. Lamberra laughed, shaking her head as Willow launched into a passionate defense of his lake's "majestic serenity."
The rest of the night dissolved into warmth: card games, stories, laughter echoing beneath the skylight as moonlight spilled silver across the table. This was where she belonged.
Later, when the hour grew late and the candles had burned low, Belli turned toward her.
"Would you like to stay in one of the guest rooms tonight?"
"That would be lovely," Lamberra exhaled softly. "Thank you."
Belli stepped closer, placing a hand lightly around Lamberra's bicep. Her expression turned serious.
"Thank you for trusting me. Especially tonight."
Their eyes locked. Belli's bright purple pupils flickered in candlelight.
"My father had a dream of restoring elven society," she said quietly. "Willow and I are trying to complete it."
Her grip loosened slightly.
"You've always treated us like equals. Like we're human."
The faintest smile tugged at her lips.
"You prove coexistence is possible. We need you."
Lamberra's chest tightened. She placed her hand gently over Belli's arm.
"You are no different from me," Lamberra said softly. "We're stronger together."
Belli exhaled, tension easing from her shoulders. "If you do go to Siburg with Willow, be careful," she added. "Reports say the road's been dangerous lately."
"I think Willow will do just fine as my protector," Lamberra replied sweetly.
They embraced once more before Lamberra made her way to the guest room.
She let her hair down, tying the band around her wrist. The bed welcomed her with familiar softness as exhaustion swallowed her quickly.
-
The bed shook violently. Lamberra jolted upright as Willow's large hands gripped the wooden frame, rattling it with exaggerated enthusiasm.
"Wake up, Lamberra!" His booming voice filled the room like a thunderclap.
She groaned dramatically and rolled toward the edge and then let herself fall off the bed with a heavy thud. "Ugh," she mumbled from the floor, sprawled out like a fallen soldier.
"Time to hit the road!" Willow burst into laughter.
She peeled herself up slowly, rubbing sleep from her eyes.
"Yeah, yeah, I hear you." She shuffled into the living room.
"Where's Belli?"
"Still asleep," Willow replied. His tone softened. "I hope she makes it past midday. She's been pushing herself too hard."
Lamberra finally looked at him properly. He looked… different. His crisp black uniform was immaculate, the fabric tailored sharply to his broad frame. Three white stripes marked his rank as lieutenant. The burning arrow emblem gleamed on his chest; the symbol of the House Everknight and the Lordship of Ravenwood. His fiery hair was pulled into a tight bun, exposing a rugged scar that curved along the side of his head and ended near the stub of his elven ear.
She had never noticed it before. Then again, she had never seen him look this composed.
"Politics and training," he sighed, adjusting the ornate sword at his waist. Its royal purple sheath stood in striking contrast to the severity of his uniform. "Shall we swing by Mister Finch's and your place before we leave?"
"Uh, yes, if you don't mind?" Lamberra tried to sound casual, but there was something vulnerable under the words. Asking for help had never come easily to her. Help usually came with conditions or worse yet, pity.
Willow noticed.
"Of course," he said with a lazy smirk that didn't quite reach his eyes. "We'll make the time."
He said it lightly, but he adjusted the strap of his uniform as if bracing himself.
The morning air hit Lamberra's face the moment she stepped outside, brisk and sharp, carrying the faint sting of lingering night frost. Sunlight was breaking over the horizon, brushing the rooftops of the slums with pale gold, but the chill of early winter still lingered in the shaded alleys. The narrow streets were already bustling.
Willow strode beside her, tall and imposing in his black military uniform. Every eye on the street followed him instinctively. People bowed their heads, stepped aside, saluted even the bakers paused mid-motion to give him space. Lamberra noticed it with a mix of fascination and discomfort. She could feel the weight of his presence ripple through the crowd like a current.
"Have you gotten used to it?" she asked, glancing at him as another passerby bowed low.
Willow exhaled, a low rumble of tiredness threading through his voice.
"To be frank, I have no idea how my father managed it. It's draining. I wish I could just walk around unnoticed… like you." His purple eyes flicked to her briefly, then away. Lamberra's stomach tightened. She sensed there was more he wasn't saying, a tension coiled beneath the surface.
At least the path to Siburg is quiet," she offered, her tone softer, grounding herself in small details to mask her unease. "Hardly anyone uses it aside from merchants or missionaries."
Willow groaned, a long, exaggerated sound.
"Oh, hell. The last thing I need is to deal with some pacifist religious zealot." His voice carried that habitual mix of sarcasm and exasperation, though his eyes scanned the streets.
By the time they reached Mister Finch's apothecary, the shop's windows were fogged with early morning chill, and a modest line had already begun forming. Willow walked confidently past the crowd.
"No worries," he murmured. "The uniform has its perks." The people instinctively parted, bowing or nodding respectfully, almost reverentially, but Willow ignored them, his gaze forward, measured.
Inside, the air smelled of dried herbs, pungent and earthy. Mister Finch nearly toppled from his chair at the sight of Willow.
"My Lord! How can I assist you?" His voice trembled, a mix of awe and fear.
"Not a lord, old man," Willow said flatly, stepping aside to let Lamberra move forward.
The moment Lamberra crossed the threshold, Finch's expression softened entirely. Relief flooded his lined features as he focused on her instead.
"Oh, Lamberra," he said warmly, voice thick with familiarity. "Is everything all right? How can I help?"
Lamberra felt the shift in energy immediately. His attention, his warmth, the difference between being watched as a threat and being treated like someone he trusted.
"I was wondering if it's time for the Siburg delivery," she said, trying to keep her tone neutral. "I can head out today." Mister Finch's posture straightened. Relief softened every line of his face, and he nodded so quickly his spectacles nearly slid down his nose.
"Yes, please! I'm in desperate need of Isabella's herbs from Siburg. It would be a great help. Would thirty crowns suffice?"
Lamberra blinked, startled. Thirty? Usually just twenty. Her pulse quickened slightly, though she masked it with a careful nod.
"Agreed," she said. "Half now, half upon my return?"
Mister Finch practically fumbled with his coin pouch, eager to seal the agreement. He handed her the first half with shaking hands, the small clink of coins almost musical.
"Quite the payday for a simple delivery." Willow chuckled low and dryly as they stepped back outside.
"It's usually less," Lamberra muttered, shaking her head, a smirk tugging at her lips. Then realization struck, and she let herself grin. "I think he was worried you'd arrest him for underpaying me."
Willow let out a tired sigh, resting one hand on the hilt of his sword.
"Even if that were the case," he murmured, voice lowering with the faintest trace of vulnerability, "I'm not a knight. I have no arresting power. The only thing I'm good at… is killing others."
Lamberra frowned at the darkness in his tone but decided against pressing him. Instead, she nudged him lightly with her elbow to soften his expression.
A ghost of a smile flickered on Willow's lips, the warmth fragile and fleeting, just enough to show he was listening, acknowledging, without dropping his guard. Lamberra noticed it, and for the briefest moment, the weight of his authority felt less suffocating.
By the time they reached her home, the glow of morning had shifted into bright, clear light. Selma sat on the porch, hands busy as usual, but her gentle smile faltered the second she spotted Willow. Panic surged through her movements: she scrambled upright, brushing off her dress, twisting hands as if to make herself appear orderly.
"Selma, don't bother! Look however you please! This is your home," Willow called, his voice firm but not unkind.
Yet Selma's attention was already frantically shifting inside, shouting, "Amara! Get out of your nightclothes this instant!"
Willow shook his head, amusement lacing his tone.
"Has she always been like this?" he chuckled quietly, eyes briefly meeting Lamberra's as though searching for confirmation.
Mama's focus was entirely on him now, her dark eyes softening as she regarded the young man before her. Her salute was precise, but her fingers lingered a moment too long, brushing his cheek lightly.
"My, how you've grown. You look just like your father." There was something almost wistful in her voice, something Lamberra hadn't heard before.
The memory shimmered behind her words, a delicate thread of the past.
"I remember when you, Belli, and Lamberra were just children playing by the river," Mama continued, her gaze distant for a beat. "Your father and I loved to sit and watch you all for hours."
Willow's grin softened into a rare, genuine warmth.
"You're making me blush, Miss Selma," he said, dropping to one knee with fluid grace, taking her hand. "You've always honored me."
Lamberra watched, quietly moved, as the scene unfolded. The warmth in her chest blossomed briefly until a blur of gold collided into her side.
"Sissy!" Amara squealed, throwing herself against her sister with abandon.
"Amara!" Mama's voice snapped, sharp and exasperated. "I told you to put on your school clothes!"
Amara only giggled, clinging to Lamberra like a tiny storm. Lamberra laughed softly, allowing herself to be enveloped by the little sister's embrace before stepping back.
"Mama," she said gently, turning to her mother. "I'll explain while I've got you both. Willow and I are making a delivery run to Siburg today. He's accompanying me both ways."
Mama's shoulders loosened fractionally, though her face remained stern.
"Good. I feel much better knowing you won't be alone."
Lamberra braced herself for the inevitable lecture on safety that followed. Her mother, as expected, did not disappoint. Nodding along, Lamberra finally excused herself, stepping inside to change.
Lamberra slipped into her travel clothes, adjusting the fit of her dark blue dress. It ended at mid-thigh, its flat white collar giving a slight nod to modesty, though she wore black pants beneath it for practicality. Her worn brown boots hugged her feet comfortably, well-suited for the long journey ahead. With practiced ease, she secured her small sword across her back. Grabbing the bag for Mister Finch's supplies, she stepped outside, where Mama was already waiting.
Mama was waiting at the edge of the porch, her figure bathed in sunlight, shadows of worry etched across her face. Before Lamberra could take a step, she was pulled into a fierce embrace.
"I'm so glad Willow's going with you," Mama whispered, pressing her cheek to Lamberra's shoulder. Her hands were firm on Lamberra's arms, trembling slightly despite her attempt at calm. "But please… be careful. Promise me."
The warmth grounded Lamberra, pulling the nervousness from her stomach into a soft steadiness.
"If I've come back unharmed the last ten times by myself, I'll definitely be okay with Willow," she reassured her mother, voice soft but firm.
Mama exhaled, lingering hands finally easing, though her fingers remained pressed to Lamberra's shoulders as if reluctant to let go. Amara, however, needed no pretense. Her small hands clung tight around Lamberra's waist, little tears shimmering in the corners of her wide, golden eyes.
"Oh, goodness," Lamberra murmured, crouching to meet her sister's gaze. "You do this every time, little one. It's just three days." Amara buried her face into her sister's shoulder, sniffles muffled against Lamberra's dress. Lamberra stroked her tangled hair, pressing a gentle kiss to the crown of her head.
Willow's voice cut through, casual but teasing: "Don't worry, Amara. I'll make sure she comes back with at least most of her limbs intact."
"Willow!" Mama's glare sliced through the humor, though it lacked real danger. Amara giggled, the tension loosening just enough for Lamberra to slip free. She ruffled the little girl's hair, and Willow gave a knowing nod, one that carried more weight than the words themselves.
Together, they set off down the dirt path that led out of the slums. The streets were alive now. The sharp tang of damp wood mingling with smoke drifting from chimneys, and merchants shouting prices for the poor folks. The sun climbed higher, warming their backs, chasing away the bite of early frost.
"I love the outfit," Willow remarked, his tone relaxed, eyes briefly scanning her form as they walked side by side.
"Thanks," Lamberra replied, brushing her hand over the fabric. "I figured I should at least try to look halfway decent on the road. No sense inviting trouble."
"This is true," he said, his gaze flicking to the small sword strapped across her back. "How good are you with that now?"
"About as good as you taught me," she said, a faint smile tugging at her lips. "I've never had to use it in a real fight, though, and I hope I never have to."
"You never truly know how skilled you are until it's life or death," he said quietly, his voice carrying a sharp edge. "But if you stick to the fundamentals, you'll outmatch most opponents."
"Right… is that why you made me train until my hands and feet bled?" she quipped, rolling her eyes.
There was a brief annoyance but it was met with laughter between the two of them.
"Hey, you learned, didn't you?" Willow countered with a smirk. "It's how father taught me."
"Barely learned. I swear you took some sort of sadistic pleasure in watching me suffer."
"Not pleasure," he replied smoothly, adjusting his bag. "More like… satisfaction."
Lamberra scoffed but couldn't hide a small laugh. The path out of the town was quiet now, the hustle of the streets fading behind them. The trees of the surrounding forest began to close in, their autumn leaves burning vibrant shades of orange and red, rustling softly in the chill wind. A river murmured just beyond the path, its water cold and sparkling, reflecting bits of the pale sun.
By midday, Willow called for a break, pulling a small loaf of bread from his pack.
"Here. Eat."
Lamberra took it, thankful for the gesture.
"You've got to keep your energy up. Too risky otherwise," he added, glancing toward the forest.
"True, but when you're poor, you learn to make do," she murmured, biting into the bread. The warmth and bread filled a momentary hole in her stomach, but the tension in the forest kept her senses alert. "I usually wait until Duke's," she said with a mouthful.
"In your state after depleting your mana last night, not a good idea." He replied with firmness.
Lamberra now realizing he didn't purposely didn't take a bite.
Willow stared toward the treeline, the brief warmth in his voice gone. A subtle tension tightened in his shoulders, the kind that made Lamberra's chest constrict with unease. He raised a hand, signaling her to silence, eyes sharp and scanning.
"How far are we from Duke's? Three or four hours?"
"Closer to five," she answered cautiously. "Maybe four if I keep pace with you."
"No more breaks," he said abruptly, rising to his full height, the command carrying weight she dared not challenge. "Eat while we walk."
The forest path closed in on them. Lamberra's fingers twitched near her sword's hilt, the lingering exhaustion from her mana still gnawing at her strength. She trusted Willow implicitly, sensing danger in his measured silence. The uneven path tugged at her boots, roots threatening to catch her stride, yet he moved without hesitation.
By the time Duke's inn loomed through the treeline, bathed in streaks of golden light from the setting sun, her breath caught in awe.
"Wow," she murmured. "I don't think I've ever made it here before sunset."
Willow didn't respond. He opened the creaky door with a hand on the frame, stepping inside. Lamberra followed, the dim warmth of the inn pressing around her like a blanket.
Behind the counter, Duke sat slumped over his desk, snoring softly.
"Wake up, Duke," Willow barked, thumping the counter sharply.
Duke jolted upright, eyes wide, a gasp escaping his throat.
"Why, hello. My first two patrons this entire week," he rasped.
"That's what I want to ask about," Willow said sharply, his voice now all business. "Where is everyone? No merchants, no travelers. Has something happened in Siburg?"
Duke's face darkened.
"There've been a string of muggings along this path for the past month," he said quietly. "It's scared most folks away. They're taking the new road now, even if it's longer."
Lamberra tugged gently on Willow's sleeve.
"Belli said there had been concerning reports on this path lately," she murmured.
"That's unfortunate, but we won't be staying here tonight," Willow said, handing Duke several crowns anyways. "We need to push closer to Siburg if we want to make it by late morning."
Duke nodded solemnly, disappearing to fetch the provisions. When he returned, he handed them four skinned squirrels.
"A good deed deserves another," he said faintly smiling. Lamberra took hers, savoring the warmth and weight of the food, the comfort of preparation in her hands. "Thank you for the crowns, Ser."
Willow ignored the Ser comment and briskly walked towards the door.
Back outside, the cold pressed at her cheeks.
"That explains it," he whispered. "I felt like someone was watching us, but I guess they wouldn't risk attacking with your uniform in plain sight."
"It does."
A small beat.
"I wasn't angry with you earlier, just was preparing myself."
"For?" Lamberra inquired.
"To kill," he said, eyes scanning the treeline as he moved ahead, the sun sinking behind the horizon, painting the sky in bruised purples and fiery oranges.
They walked forward in silence for another few hours, the moon now rising in the sky.
The long hours of walking, paired with the restless night before, had finally caught up to Lamberra. Each step felt heavier than the last, exhaustion pressing into her limbs like iron weights. The cool evening air did little to keep her alert, her body crying out for rest with every sluggish movement. Before she even realized it, her balance faltered, and she leaned against Willow's side, her legs sluggish and uncooperative.
Without hesitation or complaint, Willow hoisted her onto his back, his broad frame carrying her as if she weighed nothing at all. His grip was firm, practiced, like this wasn't the first time he'd had to carry someone for a long time.
"Rest, Lamberra," he murmured, his voice steady but tinged with concern. "Your mana is still nearly depleted. We'll need it restored soon."
Lamberra barely managed a nod, too tired to argue. She let her head rest against the back of his neck, the rhythmic sway of his footsteps lulling her toward sleep. But true rest never came. Every jostle of uneven ground, every shift in his pace, kept her caught in the limbo between consciousness and slumber.
By the time Willow finally set her down, the lake stretched before them, its glassy surface reflecting the full moon. The sight stole what little breath she had left. It was beautiful, the kind of quiet, untouched place that felt like a secret the world had forgotten.
"So, this is Willow's lake?" Lamberra teased, forcing a tired smile as she stepped closer to the water's edge. Her legs ached, every step still heavy from the day's journey, but the sight of the glassy lake stole her breath. Moonlight danced across the surface, silver and calm.
"Sure is. Belli hates it, but it's basically become an inside joke. This is actually Briar Lake," Willow replied, gesturing toward his sister with a grin, a wry amusement in his voice.
Without another word, he bent to gather firewood, his movements methodical, almost meditative, each branch lifted with careful precision. The forest air was crisp now, the first whispers of winter brushing cold across her cheeks. Lamberra shifted, forcing her tired muscles upright, and watched him ignite the fire with a spark of magic from his fingertips. The flames flickered to life, crackling warmly against the chill that had crept into the clearing.
"Can I help?" she asked, her voice hoarse, betraying the lingering exhaustion she could no longer mask.
"Some more firewood would be helpful," Willow said without looking away from his work, brushing soot from his hands as he spoke. "I can start dinner now, but we'll need enough for the entire night."
Nodding, Lamberra moved toward the forest's edge, picking up larger branches scattered across the ground. The forest felt unusually still, almost holding its breath around her. Every rustle of leaves overhead made her pulse jump. Suddenly a faint snap, deliberate and certain. It echoed from just beyond the treeline. Her chest tightened. She froze mid-step, clutching the logs to her chest, ears straining for any other sound. The fading sunlight, now nearly gone, cast elongated shadows, turning every gnarled branch into a possible threat.
A blur of motion tore past her. Massive hooves struck the earth, sending a cold plume of mist into the air. Lamberra gasped as a huge elk burst from the undergrowth, its breath fogging in the chill, eyes wide with alarm. She stumbled back, her logs tumbling, heart pounding.
Before she could even react, Willow was there, already moving, his hand hovering over the hilt of his sword. His stance was calm, disciplined, coiled like a spring ready to strike.
"Just a deer," Lamberra exhaled shakily, relief flooding her chest.
Willow's posture relaxed slightly, though his eyes never left the treeline. Then, finally, his laughter broke through the tension. Warm, genuine, cutting through the icy stillness of the forest.
"You watch dinner. I'll finish gathering wood," he said, clapping her shoulder with a strength that made her flinch just slightly before he disappeared into the trees again.
Lamberra settled near the fire, exhausted but comforted by the flickering warmth. She turned the skewered squirrels slowly over the flames, letting the rich aroma of roasting meat fill her senses, wrapping around her like a protective cloak. The tension in her muscles slowly ebbed, matching the crackle and rhythm of the fire.
Willow returned, staggering slightly under the weight of an absurdly large pile of firewood. Lamberra raised a brow, shaking her head with a soft laugh.
"Is this for tonight, or are we planning to winter here?"
"Better to have too much than not enough," he replied with a smirk, dropping the logs beside the fire. Lamberra rolled her eyes but said nothing, stretching her aching legs as he settled beside her.
"With the reports of muggings along the path lately, we should probably take turns on watch," Willow said, poking at the fire with a stick. His voice was calm, deliberate, carrying a subtle edge of caution.
"Makes sense," Lamberra agreed, stifling a yawn. "But you're up first. I haven't been this tired in years."
"I can live with that," he replied, flashing her a rare, genuine smile. The flames flickered across his face, softening the sharp angles of his jaw and cheekbones. In the quiet, he looked almost… at peace. Lamberra allowed herself to lean back, staring at the faint stars visible above the treeline, silvery light filtering through the branches.
"Magic training takes a toll," Willow continued after a long pause, voice low, carrying a subtle weight. "For me, I only have fire magic, and even that's exhausting. I can't imagine what Belli and now what you will feel."
Lamberra hummed in acknowledgment, her mind sluggish, still wrestling with the day's exertion.
"But…" Willow hesitated, lowering his voice further, the caution sharpening, "I fear what we don't know. The 'unknown.'"
"Hm?" Lamberra murmured, blinking drowsily, the words barely forming.
He leaned back, expression thoughtful, eyes flicking to the shimmering water.
"All elves can manipulate magic, but when humans and elves started having children, humans began inheriting the trait. Somewhere in your family, you're tied to an elf. That's the only way you'd have magic. Right?"
Lamberra absorbed the words, her fingers brushing the cooked squirrels he handed her. She caught the distant, almost haunted look in his eyes, the weight behind his explanation settling over her like a heavy cloak.
"The genocide started because of fear," Willow said after a long silence, his voice low and grim. "Humans were afraid elves would dominate with magic. They struck first, wiping out entire clans before the elves could fight back. My father always said humans didn't just fear magic; they wanted to control it, one day they will succeed and elves will no longer exist."
Lamberra chewed slowly, letting the words settle, the implication twisting in her mind.
"So… what we know of magic is essentially limited, and the ones in power have manipulated it and turned it into an unknown weapon we don't fully understand?"
"Kinda. Emerald Children can know the full power and restore a proper balance," Willow replied, clipped and resigned. "Belli is studying it though. She's working with elves across the continent and several kingdoms, trying to learn as much as she can."
Neither spoke after that. Only the fire crackled, filling the silence with its warm, hypnotic rhythm. Lamberra let her eyes drift closed, exhaustion finally claiming her.
When her turn for watch came, Willow shook her gently awake.
"Fuck, it's cold," she muttered, rubbing her arms as she sat up stiffly.
"I added fresh wood to the fire," he said, his tone calm but steady. "If you need anything, wake me."
Their eyes met, a silent understanding passing between them. Willow wrapped himself in a blanket, settling where she'd been lying, his sword close at hand. The night stretched on, the fire's embers glowing red against the dark. Lamberra watched the moon dip lower in the sky, her thoughts wandering aimlessly as the hours passed by.
Then, there was movement. Much more substantial than large elk from earlier. She froze, gripping the hilt of her sword. At first, she thought it was just the firelight playing tricks on her. But a shape appeared between the trees. A figure, shifting through the darkness. Lamberra felt her heart beat through her entire body.
"Willow," she whispered, barely audible.
Instantly, he was awake, his hand already on his sword.
"What is it?"
"There's someone out there," she murmured, nodding toward the treeline.
Willow's eyes narrowed. He rose slowly, motioning for her to stay close. Together, they stood by the fire, the flickering light casting long shadows across the clearing. The forest was silent. Too silent. The fire crackled, the only sound in the heavy stillness.
A voice called out. It was smoothing and mocking in nature.
"Hello, hello, travelers," it called from the darkness. A figure stepped forward, just beyond the fire's light. "Lovely night to camp, huh?"