Page 16 of Elemental Becoming

“Try not to cause trouble while we’re gone,” Garrick calls over his shoulder.

“That depends,” Lyra replies, grinning. “What do you consider trouble?”

I laugh, catching the way Garrick doesn’t even look surprised by her answer.

“Anything that makes my life harder,” Garrick says dryly.

BIGGER THAN JUST A ROOM

THREE

“Our roots are our foundation,” as the Earth Clan teaches. We of the Air Clan, ever soaring, too often forget the importance of being grounded. Yet with every new artifact we uncover, I am drawn back to one inescapable truth: our past is our root. We may try to sever it, bury it deeper beneath layers of time and silence, but truth does not wither. It waits. The Prophecy speaks of a fifth element rising. I cannot shake the feeling that this is somehow tied to the lands, to the Clans, to what came before us. I record this suspicion here, and will continue my search. The future of the realm is, I believe, deeply rooted in our past.”

—VALEN’S JOURNAL

AMARA

As Sera leads Lyra and me through the winding halls of the castle, pointing out key areas along the way, she casts a glance over her shoulder, her tone reassuring.

“Is Malek always that . . . ” I pause, searching for a diplomatic word. “ . . . off-putting?”

“Don’t let Malek get under your skin,” she says. “He’s sharp, but he’s saved our asses more than once. His expertise has been invaluable—both in preparing for potential attacks and in navigating the more . . . interesting political currents around here.”

She offers a wry smile. “Not everybody clicks with him and he can be a bit . . . prickly. But we trust he’s good at what he does.”

As we continue down the corridor, Sera’s words settle in the back of my mind, a quiet reassurance. But before I can fully accept them as truth, Lyra’s at my side again, needling as usual.

“Well, well, well.” She sidles up beside me, grinning.

I keep walking, refusing to take the bait.

She nudges me with her shoulder. “Mara. Oh mighty chosen one. My dear,dearbest friend.”

“No—”

“That was a moment, back there. At the Ember Throne steps.”

I exhale sharply, determined to keep my face blank—but Lyra is relentless.

“I just think it’s interesting—”

“Lyra!” I laugh. She never misses a beat.

“That you’re practically glowing,” she continues, eyes dancing, “and it’snotyour Elemental magics this time—”

“Ly—”

“Fine, fine, I’ll stop—” She grins. “For now.”

Her observations give me pause. I could play this game too, teasing her about Garrick. But when I look at her more closely,something feels off.

We haven’t spoken about the tunnels. About what happened down there. And now, beneath the banter and sharp smirk, I see it. A flicker of something raw. Like her edges haven’t only softened—she’s barely holding herself together.

Slowing my steps, I watch her more carefully. “Are you okay?”

I wrap an arm around her waist, immediately aware of how unsteady she still is as we walk.

Her gaze drops, a shallow inhale tightening her shoulders. Then she lifts her eyes, meeting mine through her lashes.