The road had become Kael's only companion.
Dust clung to his boots, the leather cracked from years of wandering. His horse plodded steadily, head low, as if it too carried the weight of his guilt. Once, Kael had been a knight sworn to a noble house, his blade raised in defense of honor. Now he was a man without a banner, a soldier without a cause.
The silence of exile was heavy. He had abandoned his brothers in battle, fled when courage failed him. Their faces haunted him still, eyes wide, mouths open in cries he had ignored. He had prayed for forgiveness, but the gods had remained silent. Perhaps they had turned their backs on him. Perhaps he deserved it.
He dismounted at a stream, kneeling to drink. The water was cold, biting, but it cleared the dust from his throat. He splashed his face, letting the chill wake him from his reverie.
When he lifted his gaze, he saw her.
A woman sat on the opposite bank, her hair catching the last light of day. It gleamed like gold, though tangled and dirt-streaked. Her gown was simple, worn, yet there was something about the way she held herself, regal, poised, as if she belonged to a world beyond this one.
Kael froze.
She was watching him, eyes wide, lips parted slightly. For a moment, the world seemed to pause. The stream's murmur faded, the wind stilled, and all that remained was the silent exchange between them.
Something stirred in his chest. Attraction, yes, undeniable, sharp, immediate. But more than that. Recognition. As if he had seen her before, not with his eyes, but with his soul.
He rose slowly, cautious. "Forgive me," he said, voice rough from disuse. "I didn't mean to intrude."
The woman shook her head. "You did not." Her voice was soft, melodic, carrying a weight that made him shiver.
Kael studied her. She looked fragile, weary, yet there was a strength in her gaze that unsettled him. He had seen queens, priestesses, noblewomen, but none had ever looked at him like this, as if she saw through the armor, through the guilt, into the man beneath.
"Are you alone?" he asked.
She hesitated. "Yes."
He frowned. A woman alone on the road was vulnerable. Bandits prowled these lands, and worse things lurked in the forests. "It's dangerous," he said. "You should not travel without protection."
Her lips curved faintly, almost a smile. "And yet here I am."
Kael felt a strange pull toward her. He wanted to know her name, her story, why she sat by the stream with eyes that seemed both ancient and lost. But he held back. He had learned not to pry. Everyone carried burdens. Still, he could not look away.
The woman rose gracefully, though her movements betrayed exhaustion. She stepped closer, the stream between them shimmering in the fading light. Kael's breath caught. Her presence was magnetic, impossible to ignore. He told himself it was a simple attraction, a lonely knight drawn to a beautiful stranger. But deep down, he knew it was more. Something about her felt… otherworldly.
"Do you have a name?" he asked finally. She hesitated, as if the question carried more weight than it should. "Lysera," she said softly.
The name lingered in the air, familiar yet strange. Kael repeated it under his breath, tasting it. "Lysera." She watched him closely, as if gauging his reaction. He offered a small nod. "I am Kael." Their eyes met again, and the silence between them was charged, alive. Kael felt the stirrings of something he had not known in years, hope. He had wandered so long, burdened by guilt, convinced he was unworthy of companionship. Yet here was this woman, mysterious and radiant even in her weariness, and she looked at him not with judgment, but with curiosity.
He wanted to stay. He wanted to know her.
But he reminded himself of reality. She was a stranger. He was a broken knight. Attraction was dangerous, hope was dangerous. He had no right to either. Still, as the sun dipped below the horizon and shadows stretched across the land, Kael found himself unwilling to leave. "Where are you headed?" he asked.
Lysera lowered her gaze. "I do not know." Kael's chest tightened. He knew that answer well. He had lived it for years.
"Then perhaps," he said slowly, "we can walk the road together. At least until you find your way."
Her eyes lifted, meeting his. For a heartbeat, he thought he saw something flicker there, relief, gratitude, perhaps even the same strange pull he felt. She nodded. "Perhaps.