The rain had stopped by morning.
Lira sat near the edge of the courtyard, her back against a smooth stone, Riven curled beside her. The beast's breathing had steadied during the night. His wounds still bled, but the moss beneath him glowed faintly, soaking into his fur like mist. Healing, slow but sure.
She had not slept.
Every sound in the Hold set her on edge. The wind in the broken towers. The quiet shift of stone beneath vines. And the beasts. So many beasts.
They were everywhere.
Not chained. Not leashed.
Free.
She still didn't know what to make of that.
Vaelrik hadn't said much after bringing her inside. He had simply pointed her to a clear space near the courtyard wall, then left her and Riven alone.
Now, as the light returned, Lira watched the Hold begin to stir.
Skarn passed first, claws scraping against the ground. He eyed her briefly, then moved on. Valgrin stretched his wings near a cracked pillar, flames flickering along his scales. Nightspine stood in shadow, silent, but his gaze never left her.
And Gairos… the moss-covered beast stood still as ever, more like a statue than something alive.
She tightened her grip on her spear, not out of fear, but habit.
Footsteps approached.
Vaelrik.
He didn't speak at first. Just stopped beside her, looking down at Riven. His gaze lingered on the wound.
"He's strong," Vaelrik said.
"He's stubborn," Lira replied.
Vaelrik crouched, placing a hand on the moss. The ground pulsed beneath his fingers.
"This patch," he said. "It grew after I crowned Gairos. The Vaulting gave it to the Hold."
Lira frowned. "It listens to you?"
"No," Vaelrik said. "It listens to the crown. The Hold changes after every beast. Gairos brought balance. That's why the moss grows here."
Lira looked around slowly.
She hadn't noticed before, but the decay was gone. The thorns that had choked the walls had pulled back. In their place, moss and vines grew in calm patterns, covering the stone like a blanket.
"The land listens," she said.
Vaelrik nodded.
Riven shifted, letting out a soft breath.
"The moss will help," Vaelrik said. "But it needs time."
"I can wait," Lira said. "As long as it takes."
Vaelrik stood.
"Come with me."
She hesitated, then rose. Riven stayed behind, curled on the moss.
---
They walked through the Hold in silence.
Lira had seen ruins before. Broken towers, fallen walls, scattered stone. But this place was different.
The land was not dead.
It was changing.
Everywhere she looked, the ground shifted... gently, slowly. Vines crawled along the base of walls. Moss spread in steady lines. Broken stones pulled together as if remembering where they once stood.
"This place wasn't always yours," she said.
"No," Vaelrik answered. "It was taken. I reclaimed it."
Lira touched one of the walls, feeling the smooth stone beneath her fingers.
"It's healing," she said.
Vaelrik nodded. "With each crown, the Hold changes. The Vaulting makes it happen. Skarn hardened the ground. Valgrin scorched the gates. Gairos… brought balance."
"And the others?" Lira asked.
"They left their mark," he said. "You'll see."
They stopped near the center of the courtyard.
Vaelrik looked around.
"I want you to stay here," he said.
Lira raised an eyebrow. "You trust me that much?"
"You didn't run," he said. "You didn't chain your beast. That's enough."
She looked at him for a long moment.
"Then I'll stay."
Lira didn't wait for permission.
As soon as Riven could stand, she got to work. There was no rest in the Hold, not for the beasts, and not for her. She had lived in ruins long enough to know how fast they fell apart when left alone. Vaelrik might have reclaimed this place, but it was still raw, still broken.
So she gathered.
Vines from the outer walls, thick and flexible. Moss from the healing field, still pulsing with faint green light. Stones that had cracked from old battles, now loose in the corners of the courtyard.
She wove. She bound. She shaped.
Not to build walls. Not yet. But something simple, something useful.
She crafted a low shelter, more like a lean-to than a house. Enough to cover Riven from the wind and rain. A roof made of vine-woven branches, walls shaped from flat stones and wrapped in moss. It wasn't pretty. But it was hers.
The beasts watched her work.
Skarn paced nearby, occasionally sniffing the stones she used. Valgrin stayed close, smoke curling from his jaws, not in threat, but curiosity. Mournroot, as always, kept to the shadows. But his vines stretched closer, silently observing.
Lira didn't flinch. She nodded at each of them in turn.
"If I'm staying," she said aloud, "I'm not going to be useless."
No one answered.
But they didn't stop her either.
---
By midday, Riven rested in the shelter, breathing easy. Lira stood nearby, rubbing dirt from her hands, when Vaelrik approached again.
"You built that quickly," he said.
"It's not much," Lira replied, "but it's a start."
He nodded.
Then, without warning, he held out a blade.
Not his sword. A simple tool... short, sharp, old.
"For what?" she asked.
"You said you're staying. Then you work with the Hold."
Lira took it, turning it in her hand. The blade was dull, worn smooth from years of use.
"I need more moss," she said. "And I saw vines on the outer wall that could be shaped into cord."
Vaelrik stepped back. "Then take what you need."
---
The outer wall wasn't far, but it felt different outside the core of the Hold. The moss was thinner, the stones colder. The Watchstone pulsed faintly in the distance, but its light didn't reach this far.
Lira climbed part of the wall, cutting vines with slow, careful movements. She tied them into bundles, wrapping them across her shoulders. Riven followed behind her, still limping, but stronger now.
She paused once, glancing at the sky.
Storm clouds still gathered on the horizon. Not close yet, but watching.
When she returned, Vaelrik waited by the courtyard edge. Forge stood beside him, silent, chains coiled at his side.
"You worked fast," Vaelrik said.
Lira dropped the vine bundles at his feet. "You said the land listens to crowns. Well, I'm not a crown, but I know how to make things listen."
Forge tilted his head. "She's not afraid."
"She shouldn't be," Vaelrik replied.
---
That night, she lit a small fire near her shelter. Not for warmth... the moss gave enough of that... but for light. She cleaned her blade, checked Riven's wound, and watched the Watchstone pulse again in the distance.
Vaelrik approached, stepping into the light.
"You've done more than I expected."
"I told you," Lira said. "I'm not here to be saved."
He sat across from her.
"You're the only one I've met who didn't try to bind a beast," she said.
"And you're the only one I've met who didn't run from them."
She looked at the fire, then at him.
"This place… it could be more than a battlefield. You see that, don't you?"
Vaelrik didn't answer right away. Then he nodded.
"Yes. But not alone."
Lira smiled faintly.
"Then let's build it."