The village had vanished behind them, swallowed by the morning mist and the dense thicket of forest pressing close on either side of the road. For a while, the world was calm. Their horses moved at a steady pace, hooves drumming a rhythm that echoed the pounding in Selene's chest. Each sound—the creak of leather straps, the steady breath of the mounts—felt like the measured beat of a heart beginning something vast and uncertain.
She sat before Lyra in the saddle, the General's arms firm around her, the horse's steady gait rocking them forward into the unknown. Selene's gaze clung to the misty horizon, as though it might hold answers to the questions she could not voice.
The quiet lasted until midday.
The sky dimmed, the pale sunlight weakening as clouds gathered. At first it was subtle—gray wisps rolling lazily across the heavens—but soon the shapes thickened, stacking one over another like walls rising to block out the light. A wind swept down the narrow road, cold enough to sting, rattling the branches overhead with whispers that sounded like warnings.
Lyra raised her hand, her armor glinting faintly in the fading light. "Tighten formation," she ordered, her tone as level as ever.
Her presence steadied the others, but Selene noticed the way the General's gaze lingered on the horizon, calculating. Shawn adjusted his grip on the reins. Rory sat before him, small and stiff against the lieutenant's armored chest. The boy's hands clutched the saddle horn with white knuckles, his earlier excitement shriveling into silence. Elise scanned the forest shadows as if expecting them to come alive.
Then the storm came.
It descended with startling speed. The wind sharpened into a howl, carrying with it the metallic tang of ozone. Fat raindrops splattered across cloaks and armor, and within moments the heavens split, releasing a downpour that blurred the world into a smear of gray.
Selene gasped when thunder cracked overhead, the sound vibrating through her ribs. Lightning slashed the sky, white veins crawling across black clouds. She pressed instinctively closer against Lyra, her hood pulled low but offering little protection. The rain was cold and merciless, soaking through fabric and chilling her to the bone.
Lyra's arms shifted around her, steady as iron. The General's cloak spread wide, covering them both. "Keep your head down," Lyra murmured, low and unyielding, meant for Selene alone.
Selene obeyed. The words steadied her more than the shelter of the cloak.
Not far ahead, Rory yelped when his horse stumbled in the mud. Shawn barked over the roar of rain, his voice cutting through the storm like a blade.
"Move with the horse, boy! Don't stiffen—you'll throw us both off!"
"I—I'm trying!" Rory's voice cracked with fear. His small frame jerked as the horse jolted at a flash of lightning, nearly pitching him sideways. Shawn's arm snapped out, catching him and dragging him back against his chest with a force that left no room for doubt.
"Listen to me!" Shawn bent close, his scarred jaw nearly brushing the boy's ear. "Bend your knees—feel the motion—don't fight it!"
Rory trembled, but he forced himself to obey. Slowly, shakily, he found the rhythm of the horse's movement. He still clung hard, but no longer like a sack of grain thrown onto a saddle.
"Better," Shawn grunted, his voice rough but tinged with something close to approval. "Keep it that way."
The road beneath them turned to muck, sucking at hooves. Horses snorted, ears pinned back, breath steaming in the chill. Elise brought up the rear, her bow strapped uselessly at her back, eyes sharp despite the storm. Every gust rattled branches, every shadow twisted like an enemy lying in wait. Her hand never strayed far from her dagger.
The storm pressed on them without mercy. An hour of riding left their cloaks sodden, their boots waterlogged, and their spirits taut as bowstrings. At last, Lyra raised her arm again, signaling a halt. She pointed toward a shallow overhang of stone a short way from the road. It was little more than a break in the cliffside, but it offered shelter enough to try for a fire.
"Camp here," she commanded.
They dismounted. Mud clung thick to their boots, pulling with every step. Shawn swung Rory down, and the boy nearly toppled, his legs rubbery from the ride. The lieutenant gave him a shove toward the rock wall.
"On your feet, boy. You'll work if you want to stay warm."
Orders were given and obeyed. Elise vanished briefly into the storm to salvage dry branches where the rain had not yet reached. Shawn broke larger logs into pieces fit for burning. Rory, desperate to prove himself, gathered the lighter kindling and carried it back and forth to the overhang.
The boy's arms trembled under the load. Rain streaked his face, mingling with the mud smeared across his cheeks. Still he pushed on, his jaw set, refusing to yield. His small body sagged with exhaustion, yet he bent again for another bundle. As he struggled with a particularly heavy branch, he saw Elise glance at him, a flicker of genuine pity in her eyes. He straightened his spine, lifting the branch.
"Rest, Rory," Selene said suddenly. Her voice was soft, but there was an unshakable firmness in it.
The lieutenant looked up, frowning. "But—"
"No, I can do it," Rory rasped, his voice hoarse. He staggered toward another pile of wood, determination written in every line of his weary body.
"Rest, Rory," Selene said again, stepping closer. Her hand brushed his shoulder, gentle and warm. The boy froze, the fight draining from him at her touch.
Shawn's mouth tightened, but before he could argue, Lyra's eyes met his. A single subtle nod. The order was silent but final.
"Fine," Shawn muttered, turning back to his pack.
Rory let the wood slip from his arms and collapsed onto the ground with a sigh of relief. He was too tired to even pretend protest.
Selene sat beneath the overhang, her cloak sodden and heavy. She shivered, but not entirely from cold. The storm pressed against her like a weight, a crawling unease she could not name. The endless roar of rain seemed alive, whispering of dangers unseen.
Lyra crouched nearby, her movements precise as she struck flint to steel. Sparks caught, smoke coiled, and finally a fragile flame flickered to life. With practiced hands she fed it, coaxing it until firelight glowed against the stone and the storm's fury.
The others drew close. Steam rose as rain hissed from heated armor. Elise returned with another bundle of branches, her sharp expression easing slightly at the sight of fire. Shawn crouched near Rory, who had nearly dozed off where he sat. The lieutenant tugged the boy's cloak tighter around him, adjusting it with surprising care.
"You didn't quit," Shawn said gruffly. His scarred face was hard to read in the shifting firelight, but his tone held a rare thread of respect. "Not useless after all."
Rory's head lifted, eyes wide. A smile broke across his mud-streaked face, bright as the flame itself.
Selene's gaze lingered on Lyra. The General's face was cast in firelight, her eyes reflecting the flames. There was no triumph in her expression—only vigilance, the weight of responsibility never loosening. And yet, when her gaze flicked toward Selene, just for a heartbeat, Selene thought she glimpsed something softer there. Relief.
The storm had passed enough to allow them to move again. The horses were restless, shaking off mud and water, and Lyra guided Selene's mount toward the overhang.
"Careful," Lyra said softly, her hands steady as she slid down beside Selene. "I've got you."
Selene's heart stuttered at the proximity. Lyra's hands were firm, reassuring on her arms as she guided her down from the saddle. The world seemed to shrink around them—just the two of them, rain-slicked and muddy, connected by touch.
"Almost… there," Lyra murmured, her voice low and steady. Her grip lingered a moment longer than necessary, fingertips brushing Selene's shoulder.
Selene caught her breath, cheeks warming. "Th-thank you," she whispered.
"You don't need to thank me," Lyra replied, though her eyes softened. "It's my job… to keep you safe."
The knights—Ava, Elise, Shawn, and Rita—exchanged subtle glances, noticing the fleeting closeness. Ava whispered to Elise, her eyes wide. "See that?"
Elise smirked. "Definitely there. Don't think either of them knows exactly how to handle it."
Shawn grunted, looking away, while Rita chuckled quietly, clearly entertained.
Lyra finally stepped back, masking the tenderness behind the mask of command. Selene's feet touched the wet ground, but the warmth in her chest lingered.
For a long while, no one spoke. The storm had passed, leaving only dripping trees, smoldering firelight, and the quiet rhythm of hearts beginning to notice something undeniable.