Beyond the gray sky, where no stars could be seen—
a golden flame flickered in the void.
Her hair shimmered like molten gold, each strand ending in a faint red glow.
One eye gleamed crimson, the other gold — both fixed upon the mortal girl below.
[The remnant 'Eternal Flame' gazes upon the mortal Lyra.]
A soft voice drifted from the shadows beside her, calm and teasing.
[The remnants 'Silent Oath' speaks.]
"It's not even a week, and you already love her. What are you?"
The Eternal Flame smiled faintly, resting her chin on her palm.
"Who knows," she murmured, her voice warm as firelight.
"I just love watching her for a reason that I don't know myself."
[The remnant'Silent Oath' falls silent.]
[The remnant 'Eternal Flame' continues watching the mortal Lyra.]
The snow was finally thinning. Frost melted into patches of damp grass, and faint color returned to the land as they made their way down from Frostspine.
Kairis exhaled, tilting her head to the gray sky. "Finally," she said softly. "After all that cold, it actually feels alive again."
Lyra smiled faintly. "It does. I almost forgot what warmth felt like."
Kael kicked at a bit of half-melted snow. "Still looks like a frozen wasteland to me."
Kairis nudged him with her elbow. "You complain too much. Look around — even the air feels different."
Azel, walking ahead, gave a small nod. "It's better than silence. The mountain's done holding its breath."
That earned a quiet chuckle from Lyra. For the first time in days, their steps felt lighter.
By dusk, the wind had softened, carrying faint traces of smoke and bread.
"There," Azel said, pointing down the slope. "A village. We'll rest there for the night."
The others followed without hesitation. It had been too long since they'd seen any sign of people.
When they reached the edge of the village, a few heads turned their way — wary at first, but not unkind. Smoke curled from chimneys, and soft lamplight spilled through narrow windows.
An older man tending to a cart called out, "Travelers? You've come a long way, haven't you?"
Azel dipped his head politely. "We could use a place to stay till morning."
The man smiled, his breath misting in the air. "Plenty of empty homes after the last freeze. But come inside — you'll freeze before I finish talking."
As they followed, a woman came out of a nearby house carrying bread wrapped in cloth. "Strange, isn't it?" she said as she handed it over. "The cold's easing up. The frost's been breaking since morning. Maybe the world's finally remembered spring."
Her words made Lyra pause. She looked around — the faint mist rising from melting snow, the warmth in the villagers' smiles, the sound of laughter from a nearby doorway.
Even in the ruin of winter, they still found a way to live — to welcome strangers, to share warmth they could barely spare.
Even in struggle, she thought, they stay kind. Maybe that's what keeps the world from dying completely.
Soon they were seated inside a small home, bowls of stew placed before them. The smell was rich, the warmth almost dizzying after the cold.
Kael took one bite and nearly groaned. "If I die right now, bury me here."
Kairis rolled her eyes but smiled anyway. "You're impossible."
The woman laughed, shaking her head. "Then eat enough to live another day."
Azel's usual stern look softened. "You've shown us kindness," he said quietly.
"Kindness costs nothing," the man replied, settling by the hearth. "And the world could use more of it these days."
After dinner, the villagers helped them settle into an old storeroom lined with blankets and straw. The air smelled faintly of herbs and earth.
Azel sat near the door, his tone calm but firm. "We move at dawn. The Frontland's east — if we reach before the others, we'll have the upper hand. The kingdoms won't ignore the deity's awakening."
Kairis leaned against the wall, nodding. "Rest short. No one wants to meet a deity unprepared."
Lyra looked down at her hands, fingers brushing the faint mark the coin had left. "I can feel something waiting there," she murmured. "Something… old."
No one answered, but they all felt it — that quiet pull toward the east.
Later, when everyone had gone quiet, Lyra slipped outside.
The night was soft, the wind carrying the scent of pine and smoke. She looked up at the sky — still dim, but clearer now, faint traces of silver hiding behind the clouds.
For a moment, she just stood there, her breath fogging the air.
"Why does it feel like they're watching me…" she whispered.
The wind didn't answer — only brushed past her cloak, gentle as a sigh.
Her hair lifted with it, strands floating weightlessly in the moonlight —
like the world itself was breathing again.