The army that marched from Thornhaven numbered over a thousand souls. Soldiers, mages, healers, and common folk who had taken up arms for their lost princess. It wasn't enough to match Darius's forces, but it was a start.
Elara rode at the front alongside Kieran and Sera, wearing armor that had been crafted for her by a sympathetic blacksmith. It bore the symbol of her house a silver star against a midnight blue field.
As they traveled, more joined them. Villagers who had suffered under Darius's tyranny, former soldiers who had deserted rather than serve a usurper, even a few minor nobles who had secretly opposed the coup.
But the march was not without cost. Darius sent forces to harry them, small skirmishes that claimed lives on both sides. Each loss weighed heavily on Elara. These people died for her. Because of her.
"You can't shoulder every death," Kieran told her one evening as they made camp. "They chose to fight. They believe in what we're doing."
"That doesn't make it easier," Elara said quietly.
"No," Kieran agreed. "Good leaders never find it easy. That's how you know you're doing it right."
On the fifth day of their march, they encountered unexpected allies. A group of mages from the Silvermoon Enclave, led by Magistra Lyra herself.
"The Archmagister sends his regards," Lyra said, dismounting. "And his support. We cannot sit idly by while darkness threatens the realm."
Elara felt tears of gratitude. "Thank you. All of you."
Lyra smiled. "Besides, we have a vested interest in seeing you succeed. Only a true heir can properly wield starlight. Darius, with his stolen and twisted magic, is an abomination that must be stopped."
That night, Elara walked through the camp, speaking with her soldiers, learning their names, their stories. They had families, dreams, fears. They were real people, not just numbers in an army.
She found Kieran standing watch at the camp's perimeter.
"Couldn't sleep?" he asked.
"Too much on my mind," she admitted, joining him. "In three days, we'll reach the capital. And then..."
"And then we fight," Kieran said simply. "We've come too far to turn back now."
"I'm afraid," Elara confessed. "What if I'm not strong enough? What if I fail?"
Kieran turned to face her fully. "Elara, I've seen you grow from a frightened princess into a warrior queen. You healed my wounds. You've led this army through impossible odds. You've mastered magic that takes most people decades to learn. You are stronger than you know."
"And if I lose?" she whispered.
"Then you'll have lost fighting for what's right," Kieran said. "But I don't believe you will lose. Because you have something Darius doesn't."
"What's that?"
"You fight for others. For your people. For a better future. Darius fights only for himself. That makes all the difference."
Elara looked at this man who had become so much more than a guard or an ally. He believed in her completely, without reservation.
"Kieran, I—" she began, but was interrupted by a horn blast. Scouts returning with news.
The moment passed, but something had shifted between them. Something that would have to wait until after the battle.
If they survived.
The army marched on, toward destiny, toward war, toward whatever fate the stars had written for them.