Chapter 3 Adventure Time

Eyrndra POV

I packed quickly.

Clothes folded tightly. My mother’s amulet slipped over my head, warm and familiar against my skin. The ring my father gave me stayed on my finger where it belonged. I braided my hair back, my long emerald strands woven tight and practical. I pulled on my travel leathers, worn but well-fitted, and felt like myself again for the first time all day.

I counted the gold my mother left me. Not much, but enough for a horse and a small wagon. Enough to get started. Food went next. Dried meats. Cheese wrapped in cloth. Hard bread. Berries pressed into waxed paper. Dried fruit. My healing kit. My journal. Everything that mattered. I slung the satchel over my shoulder and took one last look around my room, then I went downstairs. At the bottom of the steps, I paused and pulled the spell from the trunk. The shrinking enchantment shimmered as I spoke it, the weight of the books and scrolls collapsing inward until the trunk fit neatly into the satchel waiting inside it.

I reached for the folded patch next, the prophecy stitched in careful thread. The door upstairs opened.

I rolled my eyes. “Of course you’re back.”

Boots hit the steps hard. Callum came down with a bag slung over his shoulder, a sword strapped across his back, wearing dark leathers instead of Temple white. My breath hitched. He was hot. So hot. Wow. Get it together, Eryndra. It’s just a boy.

“I thought you left,” I said.

“You’re not going alone,” he snapped.

“So you’re just abandoning your mage duties now?” I asked coolly.

His jaw tightened. “I don’t trust them anymore. If this is true, then it’s my duty to find out, aand if it’s not, then… it isn’t. But I won’t pretend anymore.”

I tilted my head, studying him. “Fine,” I said. “One condition. We’re friends only. That’s it. No sleeping together. No intimate anything.”

His cheeks heated. “Deal.”

I nodded and unfolded the patch between us.

We read the prophecy together in silence.

When stone runs cold and fire sleeps,

When scaled kings fade to myth and keeps,

When nests lie bare and songs unheard,

The world will turn on a single word.

Born of blood the old gods knew,

Marked in green of flame and dew,

She wakes the eggs, the lost, the lyre—

Emerald Eryndra, keeper of fire.

Where she stands, the silent stir,

What was broken bends to her.

My hands trembled.

Callum exhaled slowly. “Well,” he said. “That’s… a lot.”

I folded the patch carefully and tucked it away.

“Yeah,” I sighed. “And it starts now.”

I slung the bag over my shoulder and looked at him. “You sure you’re in? Last chance to change your mind.”

Callum nodded without hesitation. “I’m in. Let’s go.”

“Okay,” I said briskly. “We need a wagon.”

I tucked the enchanted satchel safely into my bag, double checking the clasp, and we headed out. Callum grimaced mid-step. “Let me glamour myself real quick.”

Before I could argue, he murmured a spell. His hair darkened, his eyes shifted to an unremarkable brown, his features dulling just enough to fade into a crowd.

“If they see us leave together, they’ll follow,” he said.

I scowled. “Let them.”

He shook his head. “They’re dangerous, Eryndra. Powerful. You have no idea.”

I started humming. He scowled harder. “Please tell me you’re not doing that on purpose.”

“This is going to be a fun journey,” I said sweetly. “I know I’m delightful to be around,” I added. “You’re the one with the problem.”

He groaned, then laughed shakily. We pooled our coin at the stables and ended up with two sturdy horses and a wagon far larger than I’d planned. Better for the road, Callum said. Harder to flip or ambush. He was already coming in handy and a part of me liked it. Oh boy. We packed quickly. I picked out and purchased a silver knife set, then a bow, quiver, and arrows. Callum grabbed more food, medical supplies, and a worrying amount of magical components.

When we led the horses toward the edge of the village, two guards stepped forward. “Miss Sonbrae,” one said gently. “Are you leaving? And who is your friend?”

I smiled, soft and practiced. “This is my cousin, Tomlin. He came to fetch me. I’ll be staying with my mother’s sister for a while, up the coast.”

The guards relaxed, sympathy in their eyes. “We’re terribly sorry for your loss. We hope the change does you good.”

“Thank you,” I said.

They tipped their heads and stepped aside. We kept walking, and with every step away from Sunreach, the air felt lighter, like the world itself was exhaling. I walked beside the wagon for a while, one hand resting on the worn wood, the other clenched tightly at my side. My chest felt hollow, like someone had scooped me out and left me walking anyway. Every step away from Sunreach was supposed to feel freeing. Instead, it felt like tearing something loose that still wanted to bleed.

Mama should have been here. She should have been fussing over the straps, reminding me not to forget my cloak, tucking my braid back where it had slipped loose. The absence of her voice was louder than the road beneath my boots. I swallowed hard and kept moving. We stopped once we were far enough out that the buildings gave way to open land and the road widened into a well-worn trade path. Callum was efficient and focused, and started checking the saddles like he’d done this a hundred times before.

I watched him for a moment longer than necessary.

Stop it. I mean he is really good looking. Nope. Not today. I shook my head and moved to my own horse, running my hands along the tack, tightening straps, and grounding myself in the familiarity of the motions. Mama had insisted I learn everything practical. Sewing, healing, fighting, riding. “You never know what you’ll need,” she’d said.

She was right. Gods, she was always right. When we were done, Callum swung up onto his horse and turned to look at me. I climbed onto mine and adjusted my seat. When I looked up, our eyes met, and for a heartbeat, everything stilled. My cheeks warmed before I could stop it. “Stop staring.”

His head snapped away immediately. “I wasn’t.”

“You were.”

“I was not.”

I snorted and snapped the reins, urging my horse forward. “Liar.”

He muttered something under his breath and followed, his horse falling into step beside mine. “So,” he said after a few moments, “where the hell are we going?”

I shrugged. “Honestly? I have no idea.”

He stared at me like I’d just told him I planned to wrestle a dragon barehanded. “You’re joking.”

“Nope.”

“You dragged me out of the city,” he said, gesturing vaguely behind us, “with half the Temple potentially watching, and you don’t have a plan?”

“I tend to fly by the seat of my pants,” I said cheerfully. “I figure we’ll end up where we’re meant to be.”

His mouth fell open. “We’re going to end up lost or dead.”

“Maybe,” I agreed. “But at least it’ll be an adventure.” I laughed, the sound surprising even me. It felt rusty, like a door that hadn’t been opened in years, but once it was out, it was hard to stop.

Callum groaned. “This is my nightmare.”

I grinned. “You’ll survive.”

“That remains to be seen.”

We followed the path as it slowly shifted beneath us, the packed dirt giving way to looser soil, then sand that crept in pale drifts along the edges. The land opened wide, the air growing warmer, and saltier. To our right, the Siren Sea stretched endlessly, sparkling under the sun like it was showing off.

I slowed without meaning to, staring. The water was impossibly blue, and flecked with white where waves broke against distant rocks. It looked peaceful. Deceptively so. “That’s it,” I murmured.

“The sea?” Callum asked.

“The Siren Sea.”

He followed my gaze, his expression tightening. “People disappear out there.”

“People disappear everywhere,” I said quietly.

He glanced at me, something unreadable flickering across his face. “Fair point.”

We rode in silence for a while after that, the rhythm of hooves and wheels steadying. My thoughts wandered despite my efforts to keep them in check. What if I was wrong? What if the Temple hadn’t lied? What if I’d just… run? Abandoned everything on a theory and a letter written by a man who vanished years ago? Grief and anxiety crept up my spine, heavy and cold. I thought of Mama’s hands in my hair. Her voice telling me to be strong. Her last breath against my cheek. My vision blurred.

“Hey,” Callum said softly.

I stiffened. “I’m fine.”

“You’re not.”

I huffed. “Brilliant observation.”

He didn’t press. He just rode closer, close enough that our knees brushed once, lightly. It sent a strange jolt through me, sharp and warm. I pulled away immediately. Focus. “So,” he said after a minute, clearly changing the subject, “are we staying on this continent?”

“I don’t know,” I admitted. “The letter mentioned other continents. The sea. Merpeople.”

“Can we even take a wagon on a boat?” he asked.

I snorted. “Surely.”

“Surely,” he echoed doubtfully.

“I mean, people transport cargo all the time.”

“Dragons and wagons are not standard cargo.”

“They should be.”

He barked out a laugh. “You’re ridiculous.”

“You’re welcome.”

The path curved, leading us closer to the shoreline, the sand thickening beneath the wheels. The sea breeze tugged at my braid, carrying the smell of salt and something deeper, and older. I shivered.

Callum noticed. “Cold?”

“No,” I said slowly. “Just… weird.”

He frowned. “Weird how?”

“I don’t know.” I pressed a hand to my chest. “Like something’s… pulling.”

He went very still.

“You too?” I asked before I could stop myself.

He looked at me sharply. “What?”

I waved a hand. “Nothing. Forget it.”

But he didn’t. I could feel it in the way his gaze lingered, and in the way his posture shifted subtly closer again. We rode on. As the sun dipped lower, the road grew quieter. Fewer travelers. Fewer signs of life. It should have felt lonely. It didn’t. Callum kept glancing at me like he was checking I was still there. I caught him doing it twice, three times.

“Stop that,” I said.

“Stop what?”

“Looking at me like I might disappear.”

He scowled. “I’m not.”

“You are.”

“Am not.”

I rolled my eyes. “You’re terrible at lying.”

“So are you.”

I opened my mouth to argue, then stopped. He wasn’t wrong. The realization hit me sideways. I wasn’t pretending to be brave. I wasn’t pretending not to hurt. I was just… moving. Forward. It scared me how right that felt. We stopped again as the light softened, letting the horses rest and adjusting the wagon straps where the sand had shifted them loose. Callum hopped down and handed me a waterskin.

I took it, and our fingers brushed. That strange warmth flared again, stronger this time, coiling low in my stomach. I jerked my hand back and took a long drink, staring resolutely at the horizon.

“Eryndra,” he said quietly.

“Yes?”

He hesitated. “If this… if what your father wrote is true… and you really are…” He trailed off.

“The last Eggkeeper?” I finished.

He nodded.

“Then what?”

I capped the waterskin and really looked at him. At the way the sun caught in his hair. The tension in his shoulders. The uncertainty he was trying to hide behind sarcasm and scowls.

“Then I guess,” I said slowly, “I stop running from what I am.”

His breath hitched.

“And you?” I asked.

He swallowed. “I stay with you.”

Something in my chest shifted, then settled.

I nodded once. “Good.”