He'd seen her fight. He'd seen her calculate, speak, step forward when no one else would. But not this.
Not her just… sitting.
'She probably thinks I'm a mess.'
He rubbed his thumb lightly along the seam of his glove. Just a small motion. Something to do.
He didn't feel like sleeping. Not yet.
His mana had settled. His body had too. But his mind was a different beast.
Too many thoughts. Not enough space to line them up.
He cleared his throat once.
"You're not sleeping either?"
Lira didn't look over.
A short answer. Not cold. Not disinterested. Just… simple.
He waited a second. Then added, "Are you always ?"
She raised an eyebrow. Finally looked at him.
"Awake. Watching everything. I don't think I've seen you sleep."
"I do," she said. "When I need to."
That wasn't really an answer.
"I used to stay up a lot too," he said. "At the Academy. Mostly at night. I guess I just liked the quiet."
She nodded, once. Then shifted slightly so her boots lined up with the edge of the firelight.
"It's easier to think when everyone else stops moving."
They both stared at the flame again.
Then she asked, "What did you think about?"
He didn't expect the question. Not from her.
He scratched the back of his neck lightly, fingers brushing where the edge of his scarf had left an imprint.
"Everything, I guess."
He gave the faintest smile. "Alright. Um… mostly about what I was supposed to be."
"Yeah. Prince. Prodigy. Example. Take your pick."
Her eyes didn't leave his face this time.
"Did you want to be any of those?"
"I didn't hate it. I just didn't get to pick."
Lira leaned forward slightly, elbows resting on her knees now, matching his posture.
He watched her hands for a second. They were still. Unclenched. No twitching. No habit-built movements from old training.
"Do you miss it?" she asked.
He didn't answer right away.
Then, slowly, "Sometimes. Not all of it. Just the… certainty."
The fire crackled once.
"I think I miss knowing where I was going," he added.
Lira's voice came low, softer than before. "You still know."
"You're moving. That's enough."
That settled something in his chest. Not solved it. But quieted it for a second.
He gave a small nod. "I don't think I'm used to being… still."
"No one is," she said. "We just pretend better as we get older."
He wanted to ask her more. Where she came from. Why she stayed in this hollowed out corner of the world. Why she hadn't run from him the second she realized who he was.
But instead, he said nothing.
Just leaned forward slightly, closer to the fire, and let the warmth sink into his legs.
She didn't speak again either.
The quiet didn't feel empty.
The warmth crept up his arms.
It wasn't just the fire. His body had stopped bracing. Muscles he didn't realize had been clenched started to let go.
Little things. His shoulders settling. His jaw loosening. His fingers falling open just enough to not look ready for anything anymore.
He didn't speak. Not because there was nothing to say, but because saying anything felt heavier than sitting still.
Lira hadn't moved either. But somehow she seemed more relaxed now. Her eyes half-lidded. Not soft.
Just… less sharp. Like whatever inner string kept her upright was letting out a few inches of slack.
He wanted to ask her something else.
Couldn't remember what.
His thoughts drifted sideways. Not in a panicked way. More like he was finally letting himself breathe slower.
Then her voice cut through the quiet.
It wasn't a command. Not even a suggestion, really. Just a fact laid out in front of him like a coat someone had folded without asking.
He didn't answer right away.
Just blinked at the fire again. The edges were starting to blur. Not from magic. Just from tired eyes that hadn't closed in too long.
His voice came slower now. Lower.
"I didn't say you weren't," she said.
He leaned his head back against the wall behind him. The stone was still cold. But not biting.
His eyes stayed open.
Lira nodded once. "Go."
His body agreed before his mind did.
His limbs sagged just enough to lose the tension. His legs stretched out. His hand fell onto the edge of his coat. He let it.
The fire stayed steady beside him. A soft glow. Warmth like breath.
He felt Lira shift nearby.
Not touching. But present.
The weight of her not moving reassured him more than anything she could have said.
His thoughts trailed again.
He tried to think of something clever. Something final to say. Some line that would make him seem more in control than he felt.
The fire's warmth stayed close.
Lindarion didn't remember falling asleep. One moment he was listening to the wind scratch faintly against the stone outside, and the next, it was gone.
But not like before. This snow didn't fall. It spun. Spiraled. Churned in jagged lines through the sky like it was being pulled by something too big to see.
Boots deep in frost, clothes soaked, limbs stiff. The cold wasn't just biting now. It was chewing. Working its way through the bones.
So did Ren. Meren. Ardan.
They weren't talking. They weren't moving.
Their eyes were locked on something in the white haze ahead. Lindarion turned his head toward it. Slow. He didn't want to see. But the dream didn't care.