The road dipped into a shallow valley.
Grass grew thick here, untouched by heavy travel.
Kael slowed not because he had to, but because the land asked for it.
Lira felt it through the bond.
"You're listening again," she said softly.
Kael felt the truth of that.
Listening keeps us alive longer than speed.
They reached a bend where the valley narrowed.
Kael stopped.
He didn't signal.
He simply stood still.
The others did the same.
Ahead, a small group of people moved between the grass.
Not hiding.
Not watching.
Living.
Farm tools in hand.
Children nearby.
No fear.
Kael observed quietly.
No Empire marks.
No tension.
He chose not to approach.
Turning back slightly, he adjusted the path just enough to give space.
Lira smiled faintly.
"That was a decision," she said.
Kael agreed.
And not ours to interfere with.
They continued on, leaving the valley untouched.
Jon glanced back once but said nothing.
That mattered.
The Seer walked beside Kael for a moment.
"This is leadership without presence," he said.
"Knowing when not to be seen."
Kael felt the weight of that—and accepted it.
As the sun lowered, clouds gathered far off.
Not threatening.
Just weather.
They stopped near a lone tree bent by wind.
Kael sat first, back against the trunk.
Lira sat beside him.
The others rested nearby, quiet.
Lira leaned her head against his shoulder.
"Kael… do you know what you are now?"
He considered it.
His intent came slowly, grounded.
Someone who doesn't need to be followed.
She smiled.
"And yet… people do."
Kael felt the truth settle.
They didn't stay long.
Kael stood.
The group followed.
No signal.
No command.
Just shared sense.
As they walked on, Lira felt something ease across the land behind them.
Not absence.
Respect.
Because sometimes the strongest choice—
Is knowing when to pass by—
And let the world choose itself.