It took them two more days to reach Avalon's border.
A silver veil rose from the earth like living mist, curling around gnarled roots and jagged stone. It shimmered faintly, as though moonlight had been caught and stretched thin, breathing as it shifted. To Selene, it was beautiful—ethereal, almost welcoming. To Lyra, it was a blade drawn across the land.
Danger whispered from it.
She felt it coil through her muscles, instinct sharpening her senses until every sound, every movement, rang too loud. Her hand never strayed far from her sword as they approached, each step forward tightening the cord of vigilance inside her chest.
A towering gate emerged from the fog, flanked by armored sentinels.
They stood motionless, silent as carved obsidian, polished steel catching faint glimmers of silver light. Heavy cloaks embroidered with the Crown's sigil marked them as Avalon's elite—the border guardians, sworn to deny passage to all but the chosen.
Shawn stepped forward first, calm and steady.
"We seek passage," he said evenly. "Our purpose is urgent."
The sentinels moved as one, spears lifting in perfect unison. The sound rang sharp through the mist.
"No outsiders may enter Avalon," one said at last, voice clipped and formal. "By decree of the Crown, only those of bloodline or sanctioned order may pass. Turn back."
Lyra's jaw tightened.
"We've come too far to turn back," she said. "A girl's life depends on this."
The fog swallowed her words whole. The sentinels didn't even blink.
Rory stomped his foot. "That's not fair! We're not bad people!"
The guard's gaze flicked briefly toward him—then returned to stone.
Shawn tried again. "What can we do to enter?"
"Nothing," the guard replied without hesitation. "No outsider is allowed. Only those of bloodline or jurisdiction of the King."
Silence followed.
Lyra exhaled slowly, reins tight on her temper. "We'll camp nearby," she murmured. "Forcing our way through would only get us killed—or worse."
Elise's fingers twitched, restless but obedient.
Selene nodded. When her eyes met Lyra's, the silver light reflected in them like captured starlight. Lyra's chest tightened, protective instinct flaring sharp and fierce.
That night, the campfire burned low.
Mist pressed in from all sides, thick and hungry. Lyra paced the perimeter, boots silent against damp earth, every sense coiled tight. Rory crouched by the fire, tracing imaginary battles into the dirt. Shawn and Elise spoke quietly near the edge of the clearing.
Selene sat apart, gaze fixed on the fog, fingers brushing the satchel at her side—the pressed flower inside a fragile promise.
Then a voice drifted from the mist.
"You look like a sorry bunch."
Steel sang.
Lyra's sword hissed free in one smooth motion. Shawn raised his shield. Elise's dagger flashed. Selene lifted her hands instinctively, air around her trembling faintly.
From the silver veil stepped a young woman with a grin far too casual for the danger in the air.
Curly brown hair framed her face in a cropped pixie cut. Twin short swords rested across her back. She walked into the firelight like she owned it—graceful, confident, unafraid.
"Name's Delpyne," she said lightly. "Everyone calls me Pyn."
Lyra's eyes narrowed. "State your business."
Pyn's gaze slid lazily across the group—then stopped.
On Selene.
Slow. Assessing. Lingering far too long.
"It's not what I want," Pyn said at last, voice playful, edged with intent. "It's what you want."
Elise lifted her blade. "Stop circling and answer straight."
Pyn chuckled. "Maybe I'm just curious. Maybe I saw something worth my time."
Selene shivered.
Lyra moved instantly, stepping in front of her. Not aggressively—deliberately. Sword angled just enough to catch the firelight.
"Back off," she warned.
"Relax, long-sword," Pyn replied easily. Her eyes flicked past Lyra, right back to Selene. "I don't bite. Unless invited."
Shawn thought, This woman has a death wish. He glanced at Lyra.
She was barely containing it.
Rory bounded forward, oblivious. "Hi! I'm Rory! Are you a fighter?"
"Sometimes," Pyn said, ruffling his hair like they were old friends. Rory laughed, the sound bright against the mist. Even Lyra's scowl softened—just for a breath.
Then Pyn lowering herself so her eyes met Selene's.
Lyra stepped half a pace forward, shadow falling over them both. If Pyn wanted Selene in her sight, she'd have to look past Lyra to do it.
Pyn noticed. Her grin sharpened.
"Why do you want to enter Avalon, moon-girl?" she asked, fingers brushing Selene's hand with deliberate softness.
Lyra's grip tightened—firm, grounding—intertwining their fingers without a word. Selene felt the tension, the warning, the warmth.
She didn't pull away.
Instead, she glanced at Lyra—then back at Pyn. "Are you from Avalon?"
Pyn's grin widened. "Born and raised."
"Then why are you outside?" Elise asked.
Pyn shrugged. "We're not caged inside. We can come and go. Most just prefer not to."
Her gaze drifted again—inevitably—back to Selene.
"So," she said lightly, "my question stands. I might be able to help you."
Selene hesitated, then slowly retrieved the pressed, dried flower. "It's medicinal," she said quietly. "It only grows in Avalon."
Something flickered in Pyn's eyes. Recognition. Interest.
"I know where to find it," she said, hand hovering near Selene's again.
Lyra's voice cut sharp. "Convenient."
"True," Pyn said cheerfully. "And I know how to get inside. All of you."
Selene frowned. "Why help us?"
Pyn shrugged. "Maybe I'm bored. Maybe I like your faces." Her eyes locked onto Selene's. "Maybe I want to see how bright your moonlight really shines."
Rory blinked. "Why do you keep calling her moon-girl?"
"Because she's like the moon," Pyn said softly. "Radiant. Beautiful. Her hair catches the light like silver threads."
Selene flushed.
Lyra's jaw locked. Her hand slid instinctively to Selene's lower back, claiming space, grounding her. Selene leaned into the touch without thinking.
Pyn lifted her hand toward Selene's hair.
Lyra slapped it away.
Steel flashed as she stepped fully in front of Selene, blade bare enough to gleam. "That's close enough."
The fire snapped. The mist curled tighter.
For a breath, no one moved.
Then Pyn laughed—delighted.
"I'm your only way in," she said lightly. "But if you don't want my help—"
"We'll manage," Lyra snapped.
"Lyra," Shawn said quietly, stepping in. He pulled her back—harder when she resisted. Her eyes never left Pyn.
Only when Selene's fingers brushed her wrist—gentle, calming—did Lyra allow herself to be moved.
Elise stepped into Selene's place at once.
"If she's telling the truth," Shawn murmured, "this might be our only chance."
"She is our only way inside," Elise added.
"I don't like it," Lyra growled.
"I know," Shawn said. "But control yourself. Don't you trust Selene?"
"I trust Selene," Lyra snapped. "I just don't trust her."
Shawn's voice dropped. "Then act like a general.You wanted to help her and what she need is answer. We cant get that if we cant get inside Avalon"
The word landed.
Lyra exhaled sharply. "Fine."
Behind them, Pyn watched—amused, intrigued, eyes gleaming.
The border was no longer just a barrier.
It wa a temptation. A threat.
And Lyra would protect Selene—from Avalon, from the stranger, from anything that dared reach for her light.
No matter the cost.