I nod, rolling out the tightness in my legs. “Yes, just... not used to traveling like this.” Or traveling at all, really. The sight of the world sprawling out before me still leaves me in awe—the endless trees, the sky, the shadows over everything.
I expect him to make fun of my inexperience. What warrior would say they’re not used to traveling? But he doesn’t. He just watches me. Studies me in a way that doesn’t make me feel small or weak. If anything, he makes me feel seen, like I’m a person, not a duty or a burden. For all his strength and wildness, there’s a gentleness in him that surprises me every time we have the smallest interaction.
He walks beside me, positioning himself just slightly ahead. With every step, he surveys the path, his ears twitching in response to even the quietest sounds around us. I catch myself glancing at him more often than I mean to.
When I breathe in, I taste the crisp night air as my gaze drifts to the horizon, a line of shadowed mystery stretching endlessly before us. “How much farther?” I murmur, half to myself.
“Not long now.” Theron’s reply is low. “We’ll be there soon.”
As we walk, my eyes move over the powerful lines of his back and shoulders before lingering on his thick tail swaying with each step. It’s funny how he jerked away when I traced my fingers over it. He’s surprisingly ticklish for someone so scary, and there’s something charming about that tail of his. I stifle a chuckle. How can someone as fierce as Theron have such a fluffy tail?
The forest around us changes as we walk. The trees stretch taller, their trunks twisted and gnarled. They look ancient, as if they’ve stood here for centuries. Their bark is dark and rough, with tendrils of mist clinging to their roots. The leaves above us glow with the moonlight, and their shadows shift and sway.
Along the path, colorful flowers bloom. Their petals glisten, yet the colors are robust, reds like blood, purples like bruises, and blacks as dark as the night. They’re beautiful and haunting all at once, as though they were grown in both light and shadow.
Small, luminous orbs flit around. They leave trails of light that fade into the darkness behind them.
This place is unreal.
I feel like an outsider. How could someone like me be destined for something so grand?
Theron’s presence beside me keeps my nerves in check. For now.
“We’re almost there,” he says. “Just beyond these trees.”
As we make our way through the dense forest, the trees gradually part, revealing the entrance to Ávera, and my breath catches in my throat.
Towering, timeless trees, their trunks as wide as houses, stand like guardians around the village. Their branches weavetogether high above, creating arches adorned with shining flowers and creeping vines that pulse with light. Streams of crystal-clear water wind through the earth, reflecting the moon’s silvery sheen.
The homes, nestled high within the colossal trees, appear to have grown from the wood itself, as if the trees and structures are one and the same. Water flows down from every dwelling, and vines coil around the trunks, creating stairways that spiral upward, leading to platforms and terraces that seem to float among the branches. Clusters of glowing flowers illuminate the pathways with a pale radiance that lights up the faces of those passing by. Ofvólkinspassing by.
The place is a perfect harmony of nature and architecture, where the boundaries between the living forest and the crafted homes blur into one. I try to hold in my countless gasps.
Bridges woven from leaves and vines as wide as carriages stretch between the trees, their surfaces strong, allowing the giant vólkins to move easily between the different levels.
“Theron,” I call.
“Yes, little dove.”
“I have never seen such beauty,” I whisper. The wind flows through my hair, and I turn to him. “This is unbelievable.”
“Welcome to Ávera.”
A hush falls over the village as we approach, and curious faces turn our way. Vólkins of all ages pause in their activities, their gazes fixed on me. Small vólkin children peek from behind their parents, their wide eyes following my every move as if I were something mythical stepping into their world.
A group of vólkins approaches, their expressions kind and welcoming. A relief, really. If I hadn’t met Theron first, I’d probably be running for my life at the sight of them. They’re all so large and imposing, covered in thick fur, and their presence makes me want to retreat.
The one leading them comes forward, bowing with the others. “Your Majesty, welcome home,” he says, his tone respectful, though, is he holding back a grin?
Golden-brown fur covers him completely, and he has white crystals on his forehead, shaped in a V just like Theron’s. He’s tall and lean, his build more athletic than Theron’s bulk, with a line of fur along the top of his head that stands up slightly. Do all vólkins style their... fur? Hair? Theron’s looks styled too.
He studies me with icy-blue eyes, a color I’ve never seen in any human.
“I am Kaël, one of the warriors of Ávera. We’ve been expecting you, Your Majesty.”
Will I ever get used to being calledYour Majesty? The goddess called meEthereal Leader, and Theron agreed without hesitation. And now, hearing it from Kaël, it’s clear they all know. They don’t look the least bit surprised by the title. But what unsettles me is the way they’re looking at me. Back in Tárnov, my soldiers look at me because they’re afraid to look away. But these vólkins... they’re curious. Of course they wouldn’t be afraid of me. Between us, I’d be the first to run. But still, it makes me uneasy. Their eyes studying every part of my existence.
I clear my throat and turn my gaze back to this Kaël vólkin. “It’s an honor meeting you, Kaël, and everyone else. My name is Noël.”
