Frost still lingered on the far edges of the plains, thin as breath, but most of the land had changed. What used to be glass and ash was now green and soft again. The sun caught the curved surfaces of melted stone, scattering light across the ground like pieces of quiet dawn.
Lysara Valenne rode at the head of her small convoy, her cloak drawn back against the wind. She had expected a ruin—what remained of Fort Gairn after weeks of war—but what she saw made her tighten her reins and slow her horse.
Fields. Real, living fields.
Humans and beasts worked together, clearing debris, laying irrigation lines, reshaping the land. Servitors carried beams. Stonehide lizards dragged carts. Children sat nearby, copying runes onto thin paper.
Kaen walked beside her mount, silent and graceful, his paws making no sound even on the broken earth. The black panther's eyes reflected the morning light—gold in one moment, green the next.
One of her guards murmured, "They don't chain the beasts."
Lysara didn't answer. She just watched.
The closer they came to Bloomring Hold, the clearer it became that the place wasn't just rebuilt—it was reborn.
The walls had been reforged from melted Dominion steel and Bloomscript-etched stone. Sunlight played over the runes, and wherever it touched, faint gold light shimmered. The gates stood open, guarded not by sentries barking orders but by mixed human and beast pairs—each still, breathing in rhythm, eyes calm.
Lysara's escort hesitated as they crossed the threshold. Even the air felt alive. There was no chant, no hum of forced rhythm like in the Dominion's fortresses. Yet everything moved in sync—the sound of footsteps, the soft clink of tools, even the quiet calls from the forges.
Kaen's ears twitched. The muscles in his shoulders loosened. For the first time since leaving the League's heartlands, he seemed at peace.
Inside the outer courtyard, a wide path opened toward what used to be the parade grounds. It was now a garden of stone and soil, split by streams that ran through half-built walls. The smell of forge smoke mingled with wild herbs.
Brenn met them first—no ceremony, no escort of honor. His armor was scratched and half-repaired, his voice tired but steady.
"You're the envoy," he said.
"I am." Lysara dismounted, brushing dust from her gloves.
He nodded once. "Then you'll want to see the heart of this place."
The meeting hall wasn't a throne room. It was a half-open space, roof supported by mismatched beams. Sunlight fell through the cracks, catching motes of dust and faint gold sparks that drifted upward instead of down.
Joran stood by a table covered in forge tools and papers. When Lysara entered, he didn't bow; he only stepped aside so she could see the object on the table.
A sword hilt, unfinished, made from blackened metal inlaid with glowing vines. The air around it shimmered faintly.
"This," Joran said, "is Forged Bloom. Dominion steel, melted and re-formed through Bloomscript rhythm. It doesn't resist us anymore—it listens."
Lysara leaned closer. The metal pulsed softly with light that matched the beat of her heart. Kaen approached too, sniffed once, and his fur shimmered faintly gold. Small petals rose from the dust where his paws touched.
Joran watched, eyes widening a little. "It reacts to him. Unbound beast, isn't he?"
"Yes," Lysara said. "He doesn't take orders."
"Then he understands it," Joran replied. "The metal's alive now. It wants will, not command."
Later, in the courtyard, League scribes took careful notes, measuring rune intervals and breath patterns. They worked beside Bloomring artisans, sometimes sharing tools without a word. It was strange cooperation—diplomacy done through rhythm instead of debate.
Lysara stood apart, observing the people of Bloomring as they trained. Squads practiced shield drills, but instead of shouted cadence, they moved in waves, each strike and step tied to breath. Even the wounded practiced slow breathing circles under Feyra's distant warmth; the King's pulse could be felt faintly through the ground.
Kaen sat near a patch of clover, watching a young boy feed a Servitor. The panther's tail moved lazily, but his body mirrored the child's rhythm—inhale, exhale, a shared calm. Lysara noticed and smiled to herself.
As the sun dipped behind the walls, the meeting resumed.
Draven arrived without announcement. His presence was quiet, yet everyone straightened as he entered. The Codex floated near him, its pages faintly glowing in the fading light.
Lysara regarded him carefully. "You've built more than a fort."
Draven met her gaze. "We're trying to build something that lasts."
"Without control?" she asked.
"With trust," he said simply.
For a moment, neither spoke. Outside, the faint hum of the forge filled the silence.
"You're not asking the League for alliance," Lysara said. "You're asking us to understand you."
He nodded once. "Understanding is a good start."
By dusk, the agreement was signed—not a treaty, but a promise to observe, exchange knowledge, and keep peace for now. League envoys would stay; Bloomring would open its forges and teaching halls.
That night, Lysara walked the battlements alone. The land below glowed faintly, threads of gold running through fields where seeds had already been planted. Feyra's light pulsed from the courtyard like a heartbeat. Soldiers worked quietly under her glow.
Kaen moved beside her, eyes fixed on the sky. Zor's shadow passed over the moon, wings spread wide, lightning flickering faintly across the horizon.
"Still watching," Lysara murmured.
Kaen didn't respond, but she felt it through their link—an image, wordless and clear: Balance.
She looked toward the far south. For an instant, a faint flicker crossed the distant sky—red, steady, and deep, like fire behind glass. A resonance she didn't recognize.
Something else was waking.
The wind carried the scent of rain and flowers through the night.
And Bloomring Hold breathed.
Notes:
1. "Forged Bloom" — Weapons reforged from melted Dominion Soulsteel, infused with Bloomscript resonance. They adapt to intent rather than ownership, harmonizing with their wielder's rhythm.
2. Kaen, The Silent Step — Lysara's Noble+ panther, unbound but instinctively attuned to resonance. His reaction to Bloomscript proves the field bridges beyond bonded beasts.
3. "We're trying to build something that lasts." — Draven's line signals the Covenant's shift from rebellion to civilization.
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