“What if you met a god and never knew it?” – Ilgast of Limrod, Deliberations

All she could recall was sand. Sand and pain and darkness. And then… light. Blinding, excruciating light.

Lithas woke, head throbbing. Her entire body seemed to have decided to join in on the pain. As her eyes adjusted to the frankly rather dim light, if she was honest with herself, she realized that she lay within one of her wagons, Avila sitting next to her. “What happened?” she managed to croak out. She tried to sit up. Too soon. The world seemed to spin, darkness creeping in at the edges of her vision.

Sensing her struggle, Avila gently pushed her back down. “We were hit by a desert storm and you were struck by a falling wagon,” he explained, his voice steady. He paused for a moment, before adding. “You saved those soldiers, Lithas. They’re alive because of you. It’s a miracle that you’re not dead, to be honest.”

Lithas’ grimace turned into a wince as she brought a hand up to her throbbing temples. To her surprise, she found them already occupied with a towel. “Feels like it. How long have I been out?”

“Just a few hours, perhaps a bit more,” Avila replied, readjusting the damp cloth on her forehead.

Lithas looked around, trying to piece together what had happened. As she saw the clear sky through a narrow opening in the wagon curtains, Lithas concluded that the storm must have passed. “The others... are they okay?” She winced again, her body screaming in protest at the smallest movement. She did not even want to think about riding a horse yet.

“Mostly fine,” Avila replied, a reassuring nod accompanying his words. “A few scrapes and bruises, nothing too serious. The wagons mostly held up well against the storm, thanks to the barricades. Kellen took charge and made sure everyone was safe. You’ve got yourself a good captain, Lithas.”

“Thank the stars for that.” Lithas let out a sigh of relief. “We were lucky to make it out alive. Or barely alive, in my case.” She paused, her gaze landing on Avila. “And you? You weren’t injured?”

“I’m fine, Lithas.” Shaking his head, Avila offered a light chuckle. “It takes more than a storm to shake me up.” His gaze grew serious again. “But how about you? Can I fetch you anything?”

“No, I’ll manage. Just need to stay put for a second, then I’ll be as good as new.” Her voice grew steadier as she attempted to sit up again. This time, the world stayed where it was. The darkness did not creep back. Good.

Lithas managed to sit up straight and, if she ignored the excruciating pain, she was quite confident she could stay like this for a while. Maybe a short while. She scanned the wagon, noticing for the first time that they were alone. Her immediate second thought went to the fact that they were not moving. Furrowing her brows, she asked, “Where is everyone else?”

“Outside, working to salvage what they can from the caravan,” Avila paused before continuing. “I wanted to thank you for taking me in. I likely wouldn’t have survived, if the storm had caught me alone in the desert.”

“Don’t,” Lithas offered a frail smile, brushing aside the gratitude. “Inviting a wanderer into one’s home shouldn’t be an extraordinary act, Avila,” she murmured. “You’re an intriguing man. I’ve enjoyed our conversations.” She exhaled, readying herself. “But now, I really need to get up and assess the damage. We’ve got a long journey ahead of us, and we can’t afford to lose any more supplies.”

Ignoring her protesting body, Lithas stood, wincing at what she suspected to be at least a cracked rib. “Come on, let’s go see what’s left of my caravan.”

Lithas stepped out to a scene of upheaval. The storm had certainly left its mark. Wrecked wagons lay toppled, their contents scattered across the rocky desert. Dried fruit, bits of shining metal, even the occasional piece of clothing. Her guards sifted through the debris, salvaging scraps from the sand’s greedy clutches, but it was clear they would be in for a rough journey the rest of the way to Demis. Almost involuntarily, Lithas started to calculate losses and expenses.

Kellen strode over, noting Lithas’ emergence from the wagon. His posture was rigid, the stance of a man who had weathered many storms in his life, perhaps too many. “My lady,” his voice sounded strained, “we’ve managed to recover what’s left, but the situation is bad. A good deal of our stock is gone to the winds, and some of the wagons won’t be journeying with us again.”

“Alright.” Lithas, having completed her mental assessment, inhaled deeply, steeling herself. “We’ll need a plan; mere scraps won’t see us through to Demis. And we can’t afford to stay here any longer. We need to abandon the broken wagons and keep moving. Ration our remaining supplies, Kellen. And find me a place to buy food.”

Clearing his throat, Avila stepped forward, drawing their attention. He looked thoughtfully over the wreckage before speaking. “Perhaps my travels can be of use in our time of need. On my way from Tibara, I passed a nearby town. It’s a few days march east, but they have a marketplace where we could resupply.”

“Good enough,” Lithas said, rewarding Avila with an appreciative nod. She turned to Kellen, her tone becoming resolute. “You heard the man. Get everyone together. We’re departing as soon as possible. We have a town to reach and no time to waste.”

Offering a sharp salute, Kellen barked orders to the guards. Abandoning their current efforts, they immediately sprang into action, recovering what they could and preparing their departure.

Lithas watched them work, as she stretched her cramped limps carefully. She was quietly satisfied with their efficiency. Lithas knew they were a small group, but she had made damn sure her retinue worked together like the interlocked links of a chainmail hauberk. She felt pride swell in her chest at the sight.

They reached the town Avila mentioned after a relentless march, each day blending into the next as they navigated the treacherous coastal desert on half-rations. Most of the journey saw Lithas confined to a wagon, recovering from her all too swift encounter with one of these very same wagons. Now, finally astride her horse once more—despite her protesting muscles—she watched Kellen expertly orchestrate equipment repairs and the replenishment of their supplies.

They did not stay long, already delayed as they were. Lithas ordered them to leave the town and return to the caravan trail, which now wound its way south. Still following the smooth coastline of Sariz Bay but trading in rocky desert for arid grasslands, stretching on for miles and miles, interrupted only by the occasional rolling hill.

One brisk morning on this seemingly never-ending coastal highway, Lithas noticed strange pillars jutting out from the sea on her right. They were massive, rising from the waters like silent sentinels. They were scattered around the shoreline, made from some kind of dark stone, some of them reaching up to pierce the heavens. The waves crashed against their foundations, providing an almost soothing background noise.

Lithas faintly recalled hearsay from traders but had never ventured to this area before. “What are those?” she asked, pointing toward the structures.

Avila followed her gaze to the colossal pillars, a smile playing on his lips. “Those? Those are the Halcynian Spears. Massive basalt pillars rooted in the ocean floor.” He tilted his head. “Listen,” he explained, “Listen to the wind as it whips around them, creating this strange low hum that resonates through the air. There’s something enchanting about these pillars.”

“They’re incredible,” Lithas murmured, unable to take her eyes off them. “I can see why they’re called Spears. They look like poised weapons, ready to strike.”

“Yes, they do,” Avila nodded, gaze still fixed on the slanted monoliths. “Legends say the Halcynian Spears were hurled from the heavens, guardians against the sea’s wrath.”

Lithas cast Avila a skeptical look. “Is that so? And you believe in this?”

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Avila laughed softly. “Certainty is a luxury, Lithas. Traditions carry the weight of generations; to dismiss them is to dismiss history itself.”

A shadow crossed Lithas’ face, her gaze sharpening as old wounds stirred within. “In the Belt, beliefs like that could get you imprisoned or worse.” Lithas did not often think or talk about her time in Lhasa but something in that old man beside her drew out those old memories. She was not sure she liked that.

“Do you think that’s just, Lithas ak’Var?” Avila’s features softened into a pained expression. “Should we just abandon everything we’ve ever believed in or built? Become mere slaves?”

Uncomfortable under the weight of Avila’s words, Lithas shifted in her saddle. “No, of course it’s not just”, she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. “But the Tetrarchy is hardly a paragon of tolerance. I’ve seen many suffer worse punishments for less.”

“I know,” Avila nodded carefully, face guarded. “I understand. But sometimes, we have to choose. Our path is marked by the truths we hold sacred. Do we renounce our beliefs—living in fear—or do we uphold our truths?” He paused. “And maybe, just maybe, we bring about change in the process.”

Lithas’ gaze returned to the towering columns as she pondered his words. Noticing a dark shadow on the distant horizon behind them, she felt a prickling unease. Probably just a caravan, she thought. She frowned. Quite late in the season though. And that dust cloud seemed to be too large for a simple caravan. Something was making her uncomfortable, so she decided to nudge the conversation in a different direction. “I bet you’ve got a fitting Avila quote for that too, don’t you?”

“‘Cut the root, kill the tree.’” He looked at her, sparkling determination in his eyes. “Who are we without our roots, after all? Sometimes, we must place our faith in something greater than us. That’s what these pillars embody to the people here, Lithas. Roots. Roots to what they were, to what they still are, no matter what happens on the Belt.”

They continued their journey in silence, Lithas absorbed in her thoughts, eyes riveted on the ocean and the Halcynian Spears.

The mesmerizing dance of a flock of birds diving into the waves finally snapped her out of her reverie. The lithe creatures seemed to be riding the currents that whipped through the maze of pillars, movements synchronized with a natural grace that fascinated Lithas. “What kind of birds are they?” she asked Avila, her eyes fixed on the scene.

Shielding his eyes from the sun, Avila observed the flock for a moment. “Those are sea swallows. They’re skilled hunters, often gathering in large groups to feed on schools of fish. They travel great distances, so they’re a symbol of freedom and hope among many of the coastal communities around here.”

As the birds danced in the wind, a tranquil hush fell over Lithas, and she imagined her worries seemingly lightened by their aerial symphony. She felt an unexpected connection to the sea swallows. Like them, she was a traveler, journeying through a vast, uncertain world. Their flight seemed to embody the very essence of what she had always sought: liberation from the shackles of her past, and the promise of a future ripe with opportunities.

Yet, unlike the sea swallows, they had to continue their journey.

As the caravan continued south, Lithas kept looking back. The Spears gradually disappeared from view, despite their enormity, supplanted once again by endless flat grasslands.

Around them, the scenery gradually morphed into a sparse forest. Towering, gnarled trees stretched skywards, their branches weaving a canopy that cast shadowy patterns on the ground. Soon, the twisted junipers and cacti of the barren desert were replaced by lush ferns and towering oaks.

Riding deeper into the forest, the air seemed to thicken around Lithas, the temperature dropping to a tolerable heat. The silence around them was only sporadically broken by playful chattering of monkeys in the treetops. Or by a cracked branch, followed by the sight of a tapir’s striped back disappearing into the undergrowth. Despite the difference to her native Sariz, Lithas found herself drawn to the forest’s enigmatic beauty, to the way the silk cotton trees seemed to stand guard like ancient sentinels.

The passing days saw the dense forest gradually thin out, yielding to rolling hills and lush meadows. Ever since they had exited the fringes of the Selvian desert, they could journey during the day again, vastly accelerating their progress. The caravan moved at a steady pace now, her guards keeping a watchful eye on their surroundings, as the landscape continued its morph into Demis’ surroundings, offering new sights every day.

Lithas found herself spending more and more time with Avila and Kellen on their journey—sharing stories of their lives and discussing the world beyond—sometimes joined by an invited Kael. Who was doubly intimidated by the presence of both his commander and his employer. Lithas found she had developed a liking for the young soldier, for his open earnestness.

So, as the nights grew cooler and the campfire’s glow ever enticingly warmer, their shared laughter slowly morphed into softer exchanges. Glances held a moment too long, and the quiet intimacy of shared silence.

One such evening, as they gathered around the fire, Lithas noticed Kael’s furtive, lingering glances, subtly tracing her curves. An unexpected flutter of excitement stirred within her, amplifying the heat of the fire.

Usually so reserved, the young man had grown more comfortable in her company over time, youthful vigor now sometimes breaking through his soldier’s discipline. Especially this night, with Kellen occupied with a special night training exercise. As if for the first time, Lithas suddenly noticed Kael’s tall stature, his well-defined muscles and attractive face. As she shifted in her seat, aware of Kael’s gaze on her, she felt the fabric of her dress brush against her skin.

Avila, noticing the exchange, cleared his throat. “Kael,” he began, “a journey is more than the distance we travel. It’s also about the paths we carve within ourselves. How has this voyage of ours shaped you so far?”

Kael’s attention shifted to Avila, but Lithas still felt the heat of his gaze linger on her skin. Like the sun on her back—undeniable and increasingly impossible to ignore.

“It’s been fascinating,” Kael said. “The landscape is beautiful, and the people we’ve met were so friendly. Even more so than in Sariz!”

Not exactly a poet, but oh well. Lithas felt herself nod in agreement. Her mind, however, was elsewhere, consumed by a sudden urge to feel Kael’s hands on her body. A small voice at the back of her mind reminded her that she was his employer. An even smaller voice recalled the lad having mentioned a family back in Sariz.

Beneath the tapestry of stars, the unspoken, forbidden undercurrent between them wove into the night air, as heavy as the scent of the blooming night jasmine around them.

Perhaps sensing her thoughts, Kael rose abruptly, stepping closer to her until their chests almost touched. His hands lingered on her waist, and Lithas felt herself melt into his embrace. He leaned in and she lifted her chin, allowing him to kiss away the last of her lingering reservations.

As Kael caressed her curves, Lithas felt as if something inside her had been awakened, sending shivers of delight through her. His touch, gentle yet firm, ignited her skin to burn brighter than any campfire.

Or that was what Lithas pictured before her eyes, in any case. Reality presented a somewhat less romantic scene, as it so often does.

As Lithas let herself indulge in her fleeting fantasy of closeness with Kael, the young man’s animated conversation with Avila ended with his bowl of hot stew ruining a perfectly good set of cushions and, under considerable whining, scalding his thighs.

Certainly not the kind of heat she had imagined for either of them.

After the stew debacle, the ensuing hilarity among the guards promptly dissipated any lingering tension around the campfire. Barely managing to suppress a sigh, Lithas excused herself and retired to bed—alone—leaving a sheepish Kael behind, amidst smirking guards.

The next day, Kellen urged everyone to make haste. They were approaching their destination and, come night, he wanted them to sleep behind city walls. Despite sporadic grumbles, the men and women complied with her captain’s instructions, and they practically flew across the countryside.

Throughout the day’s ride, Kael’s usually jovial demeanor remained subdued, even his occasional attempts at humor falling flat. Lithas watched with a mixture of amusement and pity as he continued to squirm in his saddle, trying to find a comfortable position.

But even disregarding Kael’s misery, the day was marked by little conversation, all focus instead directed at their impending arrival in Demis. As the sun dipped into the horizon, painting the sky in hues of gold, Lithas noticed a faint glow to the south. Squinting against the dimming light, she tried to make out what it was. Under a darkening sky, they approached the intensifying glow that finally resolved itself into a sprawling cityscape.

“Demis,” Avila said in awe, with a hint of incredulity. “We made it.”

In contrast to the solitary landscapes they had crossed these last few weeks, the city buzzed with lights and lively activity. As she closed the distance, more and more details became clear to Lithas—towers extending toward the night sky, streets bustling with people and carts, and markets expanding beyond the city’s immense gates.

As they approached, Demis’ towering walls seemed to grow even larger. The clatter of their caravan’s wheels on the cobblestone streets eventually mingled with the urban cacophony, the city’s heartbeat palpable in the air as Lithas entered the shadow of her gates. The smell of cardamom and sea brine welcomed her.

She noted the wealth of markets and shops that lined every street, from outside the city’s gates to as far as her eye’s permitted—a welcome sight after their long journey where they had to scrounge for provisions. Everywhere she looked, the scene echoed the bazaars of Sariz; merchants hawking exotic goods, performers in vibrant costumes entertaining gathered crowds, and vendors peddling their wares on busy streets, all bathed in the glow of lanterns swinging from multistoried buildings. The sights, sounds, and smells of this strange place filled Lithas with excitement and wonder.

Before long they passed through an archway marking their entry into the city proper—a towering stone structure adorned with intricate carvings and shaped figurines. Among them, Lithas recognized elaborate renditions of eagles in mid-flight, just above her, eyes inset with gleaming blue sapphires that seemed to track her every move. Turning her head, she spotted Prince Cerax’ palace at the center of the city, rising like a gleaming bird of prey itself.

Lithas passed the city gate…