Aerendell looked like a place that had decided normal was optional.
As Lyra and Kael walked closer, she noticed the details first,the crooked towers leaning into one another like gossiping old friends, bridges suspended between buildings at impossible angles, and banners painted with symbols that didn't resemble any crest she'd seen before. The city walls were tall but welcoming, etched not with warnings, but jokes.
One read: Enter bravely. Leave smarter.
Another: No prophecies beyond this point.
Lyra blinked. "Are… are those sarcasm wards?"
Kael smiled. "You're learning fast."
At the gates, two guards lounged instead of standing at attention. One was polishing a spear that looked older than the city itself; the other was reading a book upside down.
They glanced up as Kael approached.
"You're late," said the one with the book.
"I brought trouble," Kael replied easily.
The guard leaned forward, peering at Lyra. "New kind, or the usual?"
"Uncatalogued," Kael said.
The guards exchanged a look.
"Great," said the spear-polisher. "We just finished rebuilding the east fountain."
They stepped aside without further questions.
Lyra hesitated at the threshold. The moment she crossed into the city, the air changed—lighter, warmer, as if the place itself had exhaled.
"Oh," she murmured. "This city feels… alive."
Kael glanced at her. "Don't say that too loudly. It'll get ideas."
They entered a wide plaza bustling with people. Merchants hawked enchanted trinkets that did absolutely nothing useful. Children chased illusions shaped like glowing fish. A street performer balanced on one hand while reciting dramatic poetry about losing a sock to a dragon.
Lyra stared.
"No one looks afraid," she said.
"That's because Aerendell made a choice," Kael replied. "Long ago."
She turned to him. "About what?"
"About fate."
They stopped near a fountain shaped like a cracked hourglass, water flowing upward before spilling sideways in glittering arcs.
Kael rested a hand on the stone edge. "Other cities prepare for prophecy. They train heroes, hoard weapons, wait for signs. Aerendell decided that was exhausting."
"So… they just ignore it?"
"They laugh at it," he corrected. "If destiny comes knocking, it can wait in line like everyone else."
Lyra laughed despite herself. "I think I love this place."
"Careful," Kael said again. "Loving something here means protecting it."
That word protecting settled heavily in her chest.
They found an inn tucked between a bakery and a shop that sold "Emotionally Supportive Hats." The sign above the door read: The Crooked Compass.
Inside, warmth and noise wrapped around Lyra like a blanket. The inn smelled of spice and bread, and music drifted from somewhere upstairs. People laughed loudly, argued cheerfully, and argued some more.
The innkeeper, a stout woman with silver-streaked hair and eyes sharp as glass, took one look at Kael and sighed.
"You bring strays again."
"She followed me," Kael said.
Lyra bristled. "I did not."
The woman's gaze slid to Lyra, assessing. Then she softened.
"Of course you didn't," she said. "You look like trouble with manners."
Lyra wasn't sure whether to be offended.
"I'm Mara," the innkeeper continued. "You'll want stew. And a room. Possibly two."
Kael raised an eyebrow. "Possibly?"
Mara smiled thinly. "Depending on how many worlds she breaks before sunset."
Lyra choked.
They settled at a corner table, bowls of steaming stew placed before them. Lyra tasted it and nearly cried.
"Okay," she said around a mouthful. "I've decided. I live here now."
Kael watched her with open amusement. "Give it a day."
Between bites, Lyra noticed eyes on her. Not hostile but curious. A few people whispered, glancing at the faint glow leaking from her satchel.
"Kael," she said quietly, "people are staring."
"Yes," he replied, equally quietly. "That's the problem."
As if summoned by the thought, a figure approached their table.
Tall. Robed. Smiling far too pleasantly.
"Kael Rowan," the man said. "Still collecting anomalies, I see."
Kael leaned back, expression sharpening. "Councilor Edrin. Still pretending to be harmless?"
Edrin's gaze shifted to Lyra. "And this must be our guest."
Lyra swallowed. "Hi."
"Welcome to Aerendell," Edrin said smoothly. "We don't often receive travelers who arrive… dramatically."
Her satchel pulsed.
Edrin noticed.
His smile widened.
"You're carrying something very old," he said. "Something very important."
Kael stood. "She's under my protection."
Edrin chuckled. "Oh, Kael. You don't protect things like that."
Lyra felt the room tense. Conversations dimmed. Music faltered.
"Destiny doesn't belong to swordsmen or girls who fall from the sky," Edrin continued. "It belongs to those who understand it."
Lyra stood too—heart pounding, hands shaking. "I don't understand it," she said. "I just don't want it hurting people."
For the first time, Edrin's smile flickered.
"How inconvenient," he murmured.
He straightened, smoothing his robes. "Enjoy your stay," he said lightly. "While it lasts."
When he left, the room slowly returned to noise but something had changed.
Mara appeared beside them. "You should leave," she said bluntly. "Soon."
Lyra looked at Kael. "He's dangerous."
"Yes," Kael agreed. "And he's not the worst one who'll come looking."
Her stomach twisted. "Then what do we do?"
Kael met her gaze, serious now.
"We move," he said. "We learn. And we decide whether you're going to run from the map—"
He glanced at the satchel.
"—or let it show you why it chose you."
Lyra took a shaky breath.
She had fallen into a map.
She had erased a monster.
And now, a city that laughed at destiny was afraid.
"Well," she said softly, "I've already ruined one syllabus."
Kael smiled, fierce and approving.
"Then welcome to the real lesson."
Far above Aerendell, unseen and unheard, the constellations shifted again.
And somewhere beyond the edges of every honest map, destiny adjusted its plans.
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