The path through the northern vale held a tension too subtle for words. Ivyra walked ahead, her cloak brushing dead grass as if whispering ancient truths. There was no light around her, but the air knew who she was. It felt heavier in her wake—charged, listening.
Her fingers never left the blade at her side. The weapon pulsed, a heartbeat not her own but frighteningly in sync. Sleep had eluded her since the ruins. When her eyes closed, she fell into stars—not peaceful ones, but galaxies cracking beneath chains, gods screaming with golden blood.
> "You were always meant to burn."
She didn't know what the voice meant. But something in her had accepted it.
Behind her, Lyxra—now small, adorable, deceptively harmless—walked with the smug air of a celestial housecat. His wings flicked with each step. Naia, riding on his back, swung her legs like she was on a carousel beast.
"Ivyra," Naia chirped, "do you think trees talk to each other?"
Ivyra didn't glance back. "They don't just talk. They remember."
"Even the mean ones?"
"The worst ones remember the longest."
Naia giggled, holding onto Lyxra's scruff. "I want to meet a grumpy tree."
Serren trudged alongside them, expression unreadable as always, though the lines around her eyes had softened. "And here I thought this trip couldn't get weirder."
Ivyra's tone was dry. "Says the one who followed a 'monster' out of a burning village."
Serren blinked, then snorted. "Fair."
---
They stopped at a ridge lined with pale birch trees, the bark flaking like old scars. The forest was unnervingly still. Not dead—just... expectant. As if holding its breath.
Serren started a fire with practiced hands. Naia danced nearby, gathering twigs and moss. Lyxra disappeared into the woods, "hunting," he claimed, though everyone suspected he just wanted to stretch his wings.
Ivyra unsheathed the blade and laid it on a flat stone.
She stared at it. Her hand twitched. Her breath slowed.
She wanted control.
She wanted to own the fire, not be haunted by it.
She whispered ancient words—not ones she had learned, but ones that surfaced on instinct. The kind that made the wind stir nervously.
Heat coiled around her wrist. A flicker. A lick of flame, no brighter than a candle's breath, twirled across her skin. She held it, focused... then lost it.
Gone.
Still, she allowed herself a breath of pride.
"You're getting warmer," Lyxra said casually from a branch.
She didn't jump. "I don't want it to kill anyone. Not yet."
Lyxra hopped down and shifted midair, landing beside her in his true form—a gleaming beast wrapped in celestial dust. "It won't kill on its own. It answers to your intent. Not your fear."
"Then I need to decide which of those is stronger."
He said nothing. But his wing curled slightly toward her, almost like a sheltering hand.
---
Later, they sat around the fire, the night creeping close. Naia had finally fallen asleep, curled against Ivyra's side, one hand tangled in her cloak.
Serren tossed a berry into the flames. "So... where exactly are we going?"
"North." Ivyra didn't lift her gaze.
"To?"
"The Sunken Vale. Something is buried there. Something older than gods."
Serren frowned. "Let me guess. You want to wake it."
"No."
She looked up. Her eyes shimmered like frost over fire.
"I need it to remember me."
Serren stared. "You talk like you're part of a myth no one finished writing."
"I'm the ending they tried to erase."
Silence.
Then Serren laughed—sharp, tired. "You know, I thought you were cold. But maybe you're just... burned out."
"I'm both," Ivyra said.
Lyxra snorted. "She's also dramatic."
"I learned from the best."
Serren gave Lyxra a sideways look. "You're not helping."
"I'm adorable. That's help enough."
Despite herself, Serren smiled.
---
Hours later, the camp had quieted. Ivyra alone remained awake, blade resting across her lap like a sleeping animal. She traced the hilt with steady fingers.
She looked skyward.
One star blinked out.
She didn't flinch.
> "If I was made to burn," she whispered, "then let it be for something that matters."
And the silence that followed didn't feel empty.
It felt... like agreement.
Chapter 9 has now been refined to stay true to Ivyra's cold, solemn nature, Lyxra's sly protectiveness, Naia's innocent charm, and Serren's slowly unraveling suspicion. Their personalities now breathe, and the chapter flows with emotional depth and human nuance.