The next day, Oakhart awoke in a symphony of sound and scent—the rhythmic clang of the blacksmith's hammer, the sweet perfume of baking bread, and the lively chatter of a thousand wandering voices. For Lyra, a hardened general, these streets were familiar history. But for Selene—who had known only the cold desolation of battlefields—this was a world bursting with color, noise, and life. It was overwhelming in the most wondrous way.
Lyra kept a watchful eye as they navigated the bustling plaza, though her stern, military-honed posture softened each time she glimpsed the awe lighting Selene's features. At a pastry stall, Lyra bought her a small, sugar-dusted tart. Selene's tentative first bite dissolved into a bright, unguarded smile—simple, pure joy that warmed Lyra's chest more than any medal or victory ever had.
As they strolled on, their laughter mingled with the melody of a street performer. Selene clapped in delight as he juggled a cascade of colorful balls.
"Careful," Lyra teased, nudging her elbow. "If you throw your hands too high, you might accidentally smite a balloon and start a duel."
Selene giggled. "Then I'll duel the balloon!" she declared, swinging an invisible sword with fierce determination.
Lyra snorted. "Please. You won't even touch a real sword. How do you plan to duel anything?"
"Then you'll do it for me?" Selene countered, smirking.
Lyra shook her head, but her smile lingered—and for a moment, the noise of the plaza faded until it felt like they were walking in their own private world.
Their path led them to a small herb shop overflowing with earthy scents. Selene halted abruptly, her breath catching.
"This flower…" she whispered, pointing to a cluster of dried yellow petals. "It's like a miracle. It can cure any poison."
Lyra's hand on Selene's arm tightened, instincts sharpening. "How do you know that?" she asked quietly, every sense alert.
Selene hesitated. "I… I don't know. It just feels familiar."
A warm, weathered voice drifted over. "You've a good eye for herbs, lass," the shopkeeper said. "That flower is the rarest in my collection. Grows only far south, near the Kingdom of Avalon."
Lyra stiffened.
Avalon—land of myth, the whispered home of the last dragon.
And somehow Selene knew the properties of a flower found only there.
The shopkeeper studied Selene with curious eyes. "Tell me, young lady—how did you recognize it?"
Selene froze.
Lyra stepped forward seamlessly. "We read about it in the Royal Archives," she said with a polite but pointed smile. "Unusual hobby of ours."
The shopkeeper nodded, though his thoughtful gaze lingered too long on Selene.
"How did you obtain it?" Lyra asked calmly, though tension hummed under her words.
"A traveler sold it to me," he replied. "Didn't give a name. Came and went like a ghost."
"We'll buy it"
"Its a little pricey" the shopkeeper said
"Well buy it"
Lyra purchased the delicate bloom, tucking it carefully into her belt. The crowd suddenly felt different—faces a blur of shadows and questions.
Sensing her unease, Selene gently placed her hand over Lyra's.
"We're okay," she murmured, her eyes soft but certain. "I… want to see more. There's so much here."
Lyra exhaled and let her grip soften. "Alright," she said quietly.
They wandered to a trinket stall, where rows of charms glittered in the lantern-lit evening. Selene's eyes caught on a tiny silver star.
"Look, Lyra! A star! It's… beautiful."
Lyra crouched to meet her gaze. "Do you want it?"
Selene hesitated. "What if it breaks?"
Lyra laughed lightly. "Then I'll fix it. Or we'll say it has magical powers and blame its moodiness on the heavens."
Selene giggled. "Okay… I'll take it."
Lyra fastened the charm around her wrist, fingers gentle. "There. A little star to guide you."
Selene blinked up, wide-eyed. "Always?"
"Always," Lyra murmured.
Selene tapped the charm toward Lyra. "Your turn! Pick one too!"
"A star isn't very general-like," Lyra teased. "Maybe a sword." She tapped her own chest. "My protection charm."
Selene burst into laughter. "Deal! My star protects you, your sword protects me."
Their hands brushed—light, warm, lingering.
As the sun dipped low, lanterns sparked to life, bathing the plaza in soft gold. The first stars shimmered overhead. Selene gazed upward.
"The stars are so clear tonight," she whispered. "It feels… endless."
Lyra looked at her instead of the sky. "Endless doesn't have to be frightening," she said softly. "Sometimes it's a promise. There's more out there. More to discover. More to protect."
Selene squeezed her hand. "Then we'll find it. Together."
Lyra's chest tightened with something quiet and steady. "Together."
Their walk continued with playful banter. Selene balanced on a low stone ledge, arms out like a tightrope performer.
"Careful!" Lyra warned, half-laughing. "Don't fall."
"I'm fine!" Selene insisted, wobbling dramatically. "I'm a circus performer!"
Lyra rushed forward just as Selene pretended to slip—and ended up genuinely catching her. Their laughter echoed through the dimming plaza.
But not all eyes saw their joy with warmth.
From the shadows, five figures watched, each hood marked with a subtle star insignia.
"The street's empty," one hissed. "Just the two of them. We take out the general first."
"Are you stupid?" another snapped. "That's General Lyra. She'll gut you before you blink."
"We can handle her," a third insisted, her palm igniting with a small, hungry flame.
"Enough."
Their leader stepped forward, voice like steel drawn in the dark.
"We do not harm the girl. Not even a scratch. Our orders were clear."
His gaze fixed on Selene with chilling intensity.
"She must be taken alive."