Dreams were dangerous things.
Especially ours.
One moment—
I stood beneath impossible stars, watching purple light ripple through my shadows as Lyra looked at me like I was someone worth saving.
The next—
everything shattered.
Not faded.
Shattered.
The galaxy fractured into a thousand pieces of light.
The thread snapped tight.
Pain tore through my chest.
"Lyra—"
The name left me before I was fully awake.
My eyes opened into darkness.
Real darkness.
Stone.
Iron.
Cold.
The abandoned watchtower looked exactly as it had when I closed my eyes hours earlier.
For a long moment I stayed perfectly still.
Listening.
The thread still existed.
Alive.
Steady.
She was safe.
Then why did it feel like something had forced us apart?
I pushed myself upright.
The fire had burned down to glowing embers.
Three scouts slept against opposite walls.
One remained standing beside the doorway.
Waiting.
"My prince."
Something in his voice immediately erased whatever remained of sleep.
"What happened?"
He stepped forward and held out a rolled parchment.
"The researchers returned."
Every thought disappeared.
"They found the entrance?"
A single nod.
"They're certain."
I broke the seal.
Ancient architectural sketches unfolded beneath my hands.
Collapsed tunnels.
Forgotten chambers.
Excavation notes written in three different languages.
Every path crossed out except one.
A forgotten prison level beneath and abandoned fortress as it's entrance.
One section circled repeatedly in red ink.
The Earth Relic.
Months.
Hundreds of scouts.
Thousands of dead ends.
And finally—
a location.
Mortimer stirred immediately.
Satisfied.
"There."
His voice echoed through my thoughts.
"I told you they would find it."
I rolled the parchment closed.
Carefully.
If we reached it first—
everything changed.
The power balance shifts.
If someone else reached it—
especially Lyra—
No.
I stopped that thought before it finished.
She didn't know.
She couldn't.
The thread pulsed softly.
Almost disagreeing.
Annoying.
"My prince?"
I looked toward the waiting scout.
"The excavation teams?"
"Already moving."
"The others?"
"Mounted and waiting."
Good.
Very good.
I walked toward the doorway.
Cold air rolled across the mountains beyond.
The Earth Kingdom stretched endlessly below.
Dense jungle.
Ancient trees.
Heavy green canopies swallowing forgotten ruins.
Mist drifted between enormous trunks.
Beautiful.
Wild.
Temporary.
"The Fire King requests your audience."
Of course he did.
My father never requested anything.
He expected.
I didn't even look back.
"Tell him I have more pressing matters."
The scout hesitated.
Then bowed.
"As you command."
The thread pulsed again.
Different this time.
Movement.
Restlessness.
Purpose.
Lyra.
Traveling north.
Away from the Water Palace.
Interesting.
Very interesting.
I closed my eyes.
Following instinct instead of reason.
Trying to understand.
For one impossible heartbeat—
I saw snow.
Old stone.
Green scales catching pale light.
Revik laughing at something I couldn't hear.
Then—
nothing.
The vision vanished.
Mortimer laughed quietly.
"You search for her before the relic."
"I search for information."
"Liar."
I ignored him.
Mostly because he wasn't entirely wrong.
We rode before sunrise.
Forty banners of Fire cutting silently through the Earth Kingdom.
No songs.
No conversation.
Only purpose.
Only inevitability.
The jungle slowly changed around us.
Massive roots gave way to exposed rock.
The air lost its humid weight.
Each mile carried a sharper wind.
Streams narrowed.
Then slowed.
Then froze completely.
Leaves disappeared.
Pines replaced ancient broad trees.
The first patches of frost clung stubbornly to the ground.
Then came snow.
At first only thin dustings hidden between stone.
Then blankets of white stretching across valleys and mountain paths.
The horses breathed clouds into the evening air.
The thread grew stronger.
Not emotionally.
Physically.
Like walking toward a fire I couldn't yet see.
Mortimer noticed.
"The relic calls."
Maybe.
Maybe not.
By sunset the mountains rose before us.
Black stone disappearing into gathering clouds.
Halfway up the winding pass stood an abandoned fortress overlooking the valley.
Beyond it—
hidden behind broken cliffs—
lay the prison.
My researchers rode ahead.
Unable to hide their excitement.
"There, my prince."
I followed the gesture.
Broken towers.
Collapsed walls.
Centuries of forgotten history.
And something else.
Fresh tracks.
I dismounted without a word.
Snow crunched beneath my boots.
The impressions were recent.
Three people.
One moved lightly enough to barely disturb the surface.
One walked with disciplined precision.
The third...
I crouched.
Touched the disturbed snow.
The stride ignored the obvious path.
Climbed over broken stone instead of walking around it.
Balanced naturally.
Comfortable above ground.
Comfortable on walls.
Recognition flickered.
Not memory.
Instinct.
The thread suddenly tightened.
Not from me.
From her.
Like someone pausing.
Listening.
My head lifted toward the ruined fortress.
One upper window glowed faintly against the approaching night.
Laughter drifted down the mountain.
A man's voice.
Confident.
Cruel.
The thread pulsed again.
Closer.
Clearer.
Alive.
Impossible.
"...Little thief."
Mortimer laughed softly.
"You followed the relic."
I kept staring at the fortress.
At the single light burning in the darkness.
At the place where destiny had quietly folded two impossible paths into one.
"No."
A smile almost reached my face.
"I think the relic followed her."
I handed my reins to the nearest scout.
"Wait here."
"My prince—"
"If I'm not back before dawn..."
My gaze never left the fortress.
"...then the relic was never the only thing waiting for us."
Shadows gathered around my boots.
Cold.
Silent.
Obedient.
And I stepped into them.
Leaving forty confused soldiers behind.
Climbing toward the ruined fortress where—
without either of us knowing it—
Lyra and I would meet again.