Page 128 of Aryn

By the time the sun sets, we’ve made up for lost time. We’re close now. A final, gentle rise waits in the distance. By morning we’ll crest it, and beyond lies the capital city, along with the entire reason we’ve come this far.

Cato

The capital appears on the horizon like something out of a storybook. We crest the last rise as the late afternoon sun breaks through the clouds, and both Aryn and I go completely still on Nymir’s back.

The city is enormous.

Thick stone walls span across the valley, easily three times the height of those at Maelithryne. Battlements run along the top, and towers rise at regular intervals with their banners snapping in the wind. The walls curve with the natural shape of the land, disappearing into the distance where the river cuts through.

“Fuck me,” I breathe.

Aryn’s arms tighten around my waist. “It’s bigger than I remembered.”

“That’s because it’s much bigger than it was,” Brihn says as he rides up beside us, a proud smile on his face. “I told you, Father. Elyra is strong.”

For the first time, I actually believe it.

Before we came, I viewed this place as a broken world full of savages. Even after we got here, my opinions changed very little. It was still a desolate place, with barely enough resources to feed its own people. I never said it out loud, but coming here felt more and more like a fool’s errand with every setback along the way. Sovran insists our worlds need to work together to survive, but until this moment I’ve been bracing for the worst.

Failure felt inevitable, and because of that, I haven’t let myself truly believe we could pull this off. We’ve talked about what success might mean, sure, but I haven’t let myself hope.

Not like I do right now.

I’ve never been naïve enough to be optimistic, but right now it swells in my chest until I feel like I could burst with it. Aryn squeezes my middle like he senses the shift. I lean back against him, realizing he’s been another casualty of my skepticism. I’ve given myself to him and promised him everything, but I’ve been holding back.

“Are you alright?” he whispers.

“It’s just… amazing.” I turn my head to find his eyes concerned, brows pinched and lips slightly parted. “Fuck, you’re gorgeous,” I whisper as I lean in for a kiss. He meets me eagerly, though he looks a little baffled when I pull back.

“You sure you’re okay?”

I nod, knowing it isn’t the time or place for more.

We ride through the early evening, and the city’s scale becomes almost overwhelming as we draw closer. It’s not nearly as large as Atlanta, and it’s missing the skyscraper buildings that reach toward the clouds, but it’s grand. It draws me in so much that I lean forward to get a better look, trying to take it all in.

The main gate is built with massive, weathered wooden beams that are reinforced with thick iron bands. Two colossal stone statues flank the path—anonymous warriors hidden behind raised shields and readied swords. Guards in conditioned armor stand watch, but they only nod as Brihn leads us forward.

Inside, the city is alive. Cobblestone roads weave through the streets like a living maze, wide enough for wagons and crowds to move freely. Buildings rise four and five stories high, made of sturdy stone with steep, snow-dusted roofs and colorful awnings over shops. Clean, well-maintained housing lines the side streets, with smoke curling lazily from chimneys.

People are everywhere, in every color. Dreven with deep red skin, pale green Khileon, purple Anunians, and the varying blues of Nu’vak, Aidresh, and Elduin. Dozens of other species roam among them, with several I don’t recognize. I even spot a few humans mixed in, walking openly among the crowd. Laughter, shouted conversations, and the clatter of hooves on cobblestones fill the air, and smells drift in from all directions.

In the center of it all, dominating the skyline, stands the Vaelor’s castle. It’s built from the same dark stone, with rounded towers, arched walkways, and colored glass windows. It has its own protective wall, complete with a fucking drawbridge. Even from this distance, it feels powerful.

Brihn leads us down the main roads and closer to the castle gates. I try to look at everything at once, nearly making myself dizzy in my excitement at being in a real city. The crowd parts for our convoy, and no one casts our diverse group a second glance. The lack of attention is strangely freeing.

Royal guards stand watch at the gates, and Brihn takes the lead, speaking with them in rapid Elyrian. They inspect everyone in our group, making note of our names and weapons carried, then inspect the wagon. Once they’re satisfied, we’re led through the gates, and the city noise dulls behind us. We climb off our mounts, stretching our legs as we take in the impressive castle before us.

After a few minutes of waiting, a tall, imposing Dreven in ornate armor exits the castle and approaches our group. His expression is stern, but the moment he spots Brihn, he breaks into a warm smile and pulls Brihn into an embrace, clapping him on the back.

Brihn hugs him back. “So good to see you, Galdren. It’s been too long. English, please, for our visitors.”

Galdren pulls back and assesses our group until his gaze lands on Aryn. “Fates above, it’s really you, isn’t it?”

“It is,” Aryn confirms with a sad smile.

Galdren shakes his head and steps closer. “Brihn told me of your arrival in his letter, but part of me didn’t believe it.”

“Is that so?” Brihn says, lifting a brow. “Accusing me of white lies, are you?”