Page 22 of Elemental Becoming

My gaze drifts, fingers trailing upwards along the weave.

And then I tilt my head.

My fingers still over the center of the map.

A thickly forested section. Unmarked. Unclaimed. A vast stretch of land with no name, no sigil, no claim of rule.

What’s there?

The maps we studied in school showed a much smaller, wooded area. But this area is massive. Larger than any other clan region.

A thought takes root, quiet but insistent.

What other history has been rewritten?

I inhale deeply, rubbing the back of my neck, blaming it on exhaustion. On the weight of the day.

Then turn away from the map, letting it blur into the background.

I keep moving, telling myself I’m just getting my bearings.

But the truth is—I’m looking for something.

Something that makes Thane more than the Warlord. More than the man the realm sees.

I frown, my fingers brushing against the edge of the desk. It’s simple, stained dark, and covered in parchment and reports.

And then I see it.

Something small, tucked between stacks of documents.

A dagger.

My fingers hover over it, tracing the air just above the hilt.

It’s not like the others on the wall. Those blades are pristine, polished, maintained with the precision of a man prepared for battle at all times.

But this is worn, the leather wrapping smoothed by use. Not a ceremonial blade or a weapon meant for war.

Why is it here in his private quarters? Why doesn’t he carry it with him?

The moment my fingers brush against the hilt, something shifts.

Another flicker of warmth beneath my skin, a presence just at the edges of my awareness.

The bond.

My fingers linger, waiting to see if the feeling deepens. But as quickly as it came, it settles. The bond isn’t pulling. It’s simply there—quiet, dependable, waiting.

I don’t let myself dwell on the map, the dagger, or any of it.

Because gods, I’m exhausted.

A nap. Yes, a nap would be good. My muscles are screaming after healing Lyra.

Then I see the bath.

The most luxurious tub I’ve ever laid eyes on.