the broken road

Lira awoke with a jolt, her heart pounding in her chest. The cold sweat clung to her skin as her breath came in short, sharp bursts. It took her a moment to realize where she was—the fire had long since died out, and the forest was eerily silent. The darkness of the night pressed in around her, but she was no longer alone. Thorne sat a few feet away, his back resting against a tree, his sword across his lap. He appeared to be asleep, but Lira knew better. Even in rest, he was always alert, always ready.

Her head throbbed from the haunting dream she had experienced, one filled with whispers of ancient gods, shadowy figures, and flashes of golden light. The more she tried to recall the details, the more elusive they became, slipping through her fingers like sand. All she could remember was the overwhelming sense of power—power that was both exhilarating and terrifying.

"Thorne," Lira whispered, her voice hoarse from the remnants of sleep. "Thorne, wake up."

Thorne's eyes snapped open immediately, his hand instinctively reaching for his sword before he fully registered who had spoken. His gaze softened when he saw her, though his wariness never left.

"Did you sleep well?" he asked, his voice gruff with exhaustion.

Lira didn't answer right away. She had been too shaken by the dream to fully process her thoughts. Instead, she stood and stretched, trying to shake off the lingering unease that gnawed at her insides.

"I don't think I did," she muttered, brushing her hand through her tangled hair. "I keep having these strange dreams."

Thorne's eyes narrowed slightly, concern flickering in his gaze. "What kind of dreams?"

Lira hesitated for a moment, considering whether to tell him the full extent of what she had seen. The dreams weren't just troubling—they were confusing. The voices she had heard were distant, muffled, but they all seemed to be calling her, urging her to embrace her power, to accept her role. But there was something dark in those whispers. Something that made her skin crawl.

"Dreams of—" she paused, searching for the right words, "—of fire, of gods, of shadows. I saw myself, but… not as I am now. I was something else. Something powerful."

Thorne stood slowly, his movements careful and deliberate. He could sense the weight of her words, the way they hung in the air, thick with meaning. "Lira, you're not just a warrior. There's more to you than you know, and the power within you isn't just some gift—it's a legacy."

Lira's brow furrowed. She didn't know what he meant by that, but something told her that the answer wasn't something she was ready to hear.

"What do you mean by legacy?" she asked, her voice quiet, almost hesitant.

Thorne's jaw tightened as he gazed at her, his eyes flickering with something akin to worry. "The Sungod's child. The prophecy. It's more than just a title. There's a reason you're here, a reason you're connected to that power. And it's not something we can ignore anymore. The Sunpriests are searching for you, Lira. They know who you are."

Lira swallowed hard, the realization sinking in like a heavy stone. She had known, deep down, that there was something different about her—something that set her apart. But to hear Thorne speak of it so plainly, to hear him say that she was connected to something as ancient and powerful as the Sungod, sent a chill down her spine.

"How do you know all of this?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Thorne's expression darkened. He took a step closer to her, his hand reaching out as if to steady her. "I've heard the stories. I've seen the marks of the Sunpriests before. They don't just seek power—they seek control. And you're the key to everything."

Lira took a step back, her mind racing. The weight of his words was almost too much to bear. How could she possibly be the key to something so monumental? And if the Sunpriests were after her, what would they do to her once they found her? She had already felt the stirrings of the power within her, but could she truly control it? Could she fight the very destiny that seemed to be pulling her toward something dark?

"I don't want any part of this," she said, her voice cracking with emotion. "I don't want to be part of their prophecy. I don't want to be the Sungod's child."

Thorne's gaze softened, and for a moment, his usual stoic demeanor seemed to fade. He reached out, placing a hand on her shoulder, his touch surprisingly gentle.

"You don't have a choice, Lira," he said quietly. "You were born into this. But that doesn't mean you have to face it alone. We'll find a way to stop them, together. Whatever it takes."

The reassurance in his voice should have calmed her, but instead, it left her with a deeper sense of foreboding. Was it possible to change fate? Could she truly stop the prophecy from unfolding?

Before she could respond, the sound of hooves echoed through the still air, breaking the tense silence between them. Thorne immediately dropped his hand from her shoulder and reached for his sword, his body tensing as his eyes scanned the forest for any sign of danger.

"Get ready," he murmured to Lira, his voice low but urgent. "We're not alone."

Lira quickly drew her dagger, her heart pounding in her chest. She didn't know who or what was approaching, but she trusted Thorne's instincts. Whoever—or whatever—it was, they weren't here to make friends.

The sound of hooves grew louder, and then, out of the darkness, a figure emerged. A rider on horseback, cloaked in dark, flowing robes, rode into the clearing with an air of authority. The horse's hooves clicked against the ground as the rider slowed, their gaze locking onto Thorne and Lira with unsettling intensity.

"Stay back," Thorne growled, his hand tightening around the hilt of his sword. "Who are you?"

The rider dismounted smoothly, revealing a tall figure with piercing blue eyes that gleamed in the low light. The cloak that hung from their shoulders fluttered slightly in the breeze, and though they wore no visible weapons, there was something about them—an aura of quiet power that made Lira's skin prickle.

"I'm not here to fight," the rider said, their voice calm, yet commanding. "But you should know that time is running out."

Thorne remained on edge, his sword still raised, though his stance was more defensive than aggressive. "What do you want?"

The rider paused, their gaze flicking to Lira for a brief moment before returning to Thorne. "I came to warn you. The Sunpriests are closer than you think. They have spies everywhere, and they know where you are. You've already been marked."

Lira felt a cold shiver run down her spine. Marked? What did that mean? She glanced at Thorne, who didn't seem surprised by the rider's words, but his expression had darkened.

"Who are you?" Thorne repeated, his tone sharp. "And why are you warning us?"

The rider stepped closer, their movements graceful and deliberate. "I have my reasons. My name is Selene. And I'm not just a simple traveler. I've been following the Sunpriests for years. I know their methods, their plans. And I know how to stop them."

Lira's heart skipped a beat. "You're a spy?"

Selene nodded, her gaze unwavering. "In a sense. But I'm also something more. I'm not here to ask for your trust—I'm here to offer you a chance. A chance to take the fight to the Sunpriests before they can complete their plans. The prophecy is real, Lira. But you don't have to let it unfold as they want."

Lira stared at her, trying to process the gravity of Selene's words. The Sunpriests, the prophecy, everything she had been running from—it was all coming to a head. She could feel the weight of destiny pressing down on her, the path ahead growing darker with every passing moment.

But there was one thing she knew for sure—she couldn't face it alone.

"We're listening," Thorne said, lowering his sword slightly but still keeping a cautious eye on the newcomer.

Selene gave a small, knowing smile. "Good. Because time is running out."

The moment of tension lingered, but something shifted in the air. Lira could feel it. The weight of fate, the pressure of everything that had led her to this point, was finally beginning to bear down on her.

She wasn't just running anymore.

She was preparing for war.