Rowan stepped into the meadow, the tall grass brushing his knees. His eyes widened. “Whoa… this place is amazing,” he said, brushing his fingers over a cluster of petals. “It feels like a dream.”

Bjorn flopped into the grass with a sigh. “My legs might never forgive me.”

Rowan chuckled and joined him. The ground was soft, the grass cool and springy beneath his hands. A butterfly perched on his boot before flying away. 

Rowan tilted his face to the sun, letting its warmth sink in. He glanced at the Stormreach Peaks, which towered behind them now. For the first time in what felt like forever, the light felt safe instead of feeling like it was trying to eat him.

His stomach growled. Loudly.

Bjorn cracked one eye open. “That you, or the mountain grumblin’ in the distance?”

Rowan grinned sheepishly. “Do I have to answer that?”

Bjorn sat up. “Didn’t I hear someone say somethin’ about berries on the west side of the Stormreach Peaks?”

Rowan perked up. “Oh ya! I think I remember overhearing someone mention that. Let’s find some. I’m starving.”

They wove through tall grass and ducked beneath branches. Butterflies danced ahead like tiny guides, and the slope carried them gently downward. Soon, a patch of berry bushes appeared between a small patch of trees, heavy with plump red berries gleaming with dew.

“These look safe,” Rowan said, plucking one to inspect. “I think.”

Bjorn sniffed one, shrugged, and popped it into his mouth. “If I start glowin’, we’ll know they’re magic.”

Rowan laughed and bit into one himself. Juicy and sweet, with just the right tang. He reached for another, then froze.

A rustle stirred behind the bushes.

Bjorn stopped chewing. “…Did you hear that?”

Rowan’s ears twitched at the rustle in the bushes. “Uh… maybe a squirrel?”

The leaves shook again, louder this time.

Rowan took a step back. “Or… a gigantic squirrel.”

WHOOOSH!

The shrubs burst apart in a storm of green, and something leapt high into the air.

“STAND AND DELIVER, YE SCURVY SNACK-SNEAKERS!”

“WAAAH!” Rowan yelped, tumbling straight into the berry patch with a thump. Bjorn hopped three steps away, his hand flying to his axe.

Rowan blinked through the berry leaves plastered to his face. “Lyra?!”

The girl swept into a dramatic bow. “Aye, the one and only! And what’s the meanin’ of pilferin’ my berries before I’ve had so much as a nibble?”

Rowan laughed from the ground. “I thought we were done for!”

Bjorn lowered his axe with a quiet sigh. “We thought you were some kind of beast.”

Lyra winked. “Oh, I’ve been called worse. But your faces were absolutely priceless.”

She hopped over, gave Rowan her hand, and pulled him to his feet.

“What are you even doing up here?” Rowan asked, brushing twigs and grass from his cloak.

Lyra popped a berry into her mouth with a mischievous grin. “Could ask the same of you! Last I saw, you two were bumblin’ through the woods like lost sheep. Then, bam! A green beam of light shoots up into the sky. Tell me that doesn’t have you two written all over it.”

Bjorn shrugged his shoulders. “She’s not wrong.”

The three of them settled into the grass, passing berries between each other as the wind rippled across the meadow. Rowan told her everything: the tower hidden in the forest, the shimmer inside the ruins, the silence of Hollowmere, and the climb to the Stormreach Peaks. He described the Burlok, the frost phoenix that froze the mountain with a single cry, and the unity koro that pulsed in its throat like a captured star.

Lyra listened closely, then shook her head. “Sounds like a sailor’s tale after too much sea air.”

Rowan’s smile was soft but certain. “I’m serious, it really happened.”

Lyra flicked his arm, laughing. “I believe you. Just didn’t expect such wild adventures so soon. You two’ve changed since I last saw you.”

“It wasn’t that long ago,” Bjorn said.

“Maybe not,” Lyra said, lying back on her elbows to watch the drifting clouds. “But once your feet step onto the road of legends, it only takes a day to change everything.”

Rowan looked down at his hands. He could still feel the Unity Koro’s pulse deep in his chest, like a mountain’s heartbeat echoing through him. He wasn’t sure who he was becoming. Only that there was no turning back.

As the sun slipped below the horizon, they gathered dry grass and sticks. Lyra tossed a pinch of powder from her satchel into the flames, and the fire flared before softening into a warm orange glow.

For a while, they simply sat in a circle, voices quieter, laughter fading into comfort. Fireflies drifted through the tall grass like tiny lanterns, and the meadow swayed gently in the night breeze.

“This is nice,” Bjorn murmured, leaning back with a sigh.

Rowan nodded. “Yeah. It really is.”

The night deepened around them. Owls calling, crickets singing, stars spilling like jewels across the night sky. Rowan pulled his cloak tight and pulled the compass out from his pocket. Its glass gleamed in the firelight. He tilted it, expecting it to point southeast toward Zyranth.

Instead, it spun once, then clicked to a stop.

“Huh?” Rowan sat straighter. The thought stirred something deep in him. He had imagined returning home after the mountain. 

Bjorn cracked one eye open. “What is it?”

“The compass,” Rowan whispered. “It’s pointing west.”

Lyra pushed herself up on one elbow, her grin catching the firelight. “The Never Ending Lark be waitin’ to the west. Seems the wind’s already charted our course.”

Rowan smiled softly at her. “Does that mean you’re coming with us?”

Lyra let out a chuckle. “About time ye asked.”

Bjorn tilted his head. “Wait… did we actually ask?”

Lyra jabbed a thumb back at Bjorn. “Think back to the forest, aye? Right after ye saved me from them scurvy bandits, ye gave me that wide-eyed look and said, ‘You should come with us. We could use a healer.’ In pirates’ tongue, that be as good as a contract.”

Rowan laughed, his cheeks growing a little pink. “Then I guess we did ask.”

“And now ye’ve got your answer.” Lyra smiled and swung her satchel over one shoulder. “Aye, I’ll join ye. Someone has to keep this crew sailing straight.”

Bjorn pushed to his feet. “A King, a warrior, and a healer!”

The fire popped, sparks flying upward like tiny fireworks.

Rowan smiled. “Let’s see where the wind takes us.”

Lyra gave a proud nod. “To the Never Endin’ Lark.”

Bjorn yawned, but his voice was steady. “We’ll leave at first light.”

The three of them stood together in the dark meadow, their silhouettes outlined by the fire’s glow. Behind them, the green beam still shimmered faintly over the Stormreach Peaks. Ahead, the grassy hills stretched toward secrets waiting in the west.