Denna

DENNA

T he endless sea of grass rippled like waves in the breeze, stretching as far as my eyes could see. Wildflowers in a riot of colors dotted the landscape, their sweet scent carried on the wind. I'd never seen anything like it—so vast and open, yet teeming with life.

"It's breathtaking," I murmured, unable to tear my gaze away.

Korrin's hand found mine, giving it a gentle squeeze. "Welcome to the lands of the Wandering Nation."

I glanced at him, struck by the pride and joy radiating from his face. This was his home, his heritage. And he was sharing it with me.

As we crested a small rise, the encampment came into view. My breath caught in my throat. Dozens—no, hundreds—of enormous round tents sprawled across the plain in a mesmerizing circular pattern. Each was adorned with vibrant colors and intricate designs, creating a kaleidoscope effect against the endless blue sky.

"By the gods," I breathed. "It's... incredible."

Korrin's chest swelled with pride. "Each clan has their own section, with the royal tents at the center. The patterns tell stories of our history and legends."

As we drew closer, the sounds of life reached us—laughter, music, the rhythmic clanging of metal on metal. The scents of cooking food and woodsmoke filled the air.

"Are those... forges?" I asked, spotting plumes of smoke rising from several areas.

"Indeed," Baroness Balinta replied. "Our blacksmiths are renowned throughout the region. Their craftsmanship is unparalleled."

We entered the outskirts of the camp, and I stepped into another world. People bustled about, dressed in colorful, flowing garments adorned with intricate beadwork and embroidery. Children darted between tents, shrieking with laughter as they played some game I couldn't quite follow.

Korrin guided me through the winding paths between tents, his hand at the small of my back. "This way," he said, steering me towards a particularly large and ornate tent near the center of the camp.

"That's the royal tent," he explained. "Where my mother resides when we're not at the keep."

As we approached, I noticed the tent was even more magnificent up close. Intricate embroidery covered nearly every inch of the fabric, depicting scenes of battle and celebration. Colorful streamers danced in the breeze, creating a mesmerizing effect.

Balinta ducked inside, motioning for us to follow. I hesitated for just a moment, suddenly overwhelmed by the enormity of it all. Korrin's hand found mine again, his touch grounding me.

"It's all right," he murmured. "You're with me."

Squaring my shoulders, I stepped into the tent. The interior was even more impressive than the outside. Plush carpets covered the ground, their patterns as intricate as those on the tent walls. Comfortable cushions were arranged around a central fire pit, which filled the space with warmth and flickering light.

"Please, make yourselves comfortable," Balinta said, gesturing to the cushions.

As we settled in, I couldn't help but marvel at the contrast between this opulent tent and the stark stone walls of the keep where we'd first met. This felt... alive. Vibrant. Like the very essence of the Wandering Nation distilled into fabric and thread.

Balinta moved to the back of the tent, retrieving a small wooden box from an ornate chest. As she approached, I noticed her fingers tracing the delicate carvings on its surface. There was reverence in her touch, and I leaned forward, curiosity piqued.

My hands shook as I opened the ornate wooden box Balinta had presented. Inside lay another device, strikingly similar to Korrin's. My heart raced as I reached for the familiar weight of Korrin's pendant in my belt pouch.

I held both pieces side by side, expecting them to fit together like puzzle pieces. But they didn't. I turned them over, trying different angles, but nothing worked. Frustration and confusion washed over me.

"I don't understand," I said, looking up at Balinta. "They're so similar, but..."

Balinta nodded, her expression unreadable. "It's clear these belong to your people, . Not to the Shakai. You should take it."

I hesitated, uncertainty gnawing at me. "But what does it mean? How do they work?"

The weight of the two strange metal relics in my hands felt suddenly oppressive. Gnawing at my lip, I took a moment to center myself. The pieces were there, I was sure of it, but how they fit together remained frustratingly out of reach. A familiar restlessness stirred within me, the same feeling that had driven me from the Temple in the first place.

When I opened my eyes, I found Korrin watching me intently, concern etched on his features.

"What will you do now, ?"

The silence stretched between us, thick with unspoken questions. My mind raced, jumping from one possibility to the next. The relics, the rumors of other human women, the mysteries of my past—it all swirled together in a dizzying whirlpool of uncertainty.

Yet beneath the confusion, a sense of purpose began to crystallize. I'd come too far, learned too much, to turn back now. The path ahead was shrouded in mist, but I knew I had to follow it, wherever it might lead.

I steeled myself, aware that my words might shatter the peace we'd found.

"I need to go to Zashi," I said. "You said that's where I'd find Mila. I have to go to her."

"I shouldn't have said anything," Korrin growled, running a hand through his hair. "Zashi is no place for you. The men there... they're ruthless. They'd see you as nothing more than prey."

His words stung, but I pushed past the hurt. "I'm not some helpless child, Korrin. I can take care of myself."

"You don't understand," he insisted, leaning forward. "These aren't like the threats you've faced before. They're cunning, without mercy. They'd exploit you, hurt you?—"

"And what about the women already there?" I shot back, anger flaring. "Don't they deserve help? They might know something about our past, about the Temple. I can't turn my back on them."

Korrin stood abruptly, pacing the tent. "Then I'll send my best warriors. They can investigate, bring back any information?—"

"No." I rose to meet him, my voice firm. "This is my responsibility. My mission. I won't delegate it to others."

"Dammit, !" Korrin's fist clenched at his side. "Why can't you see reason? This isn't about proving yourself. It's about staying alive!"

"And what about living with purpose?" I challenged, stepping closer. "What about doing what's right, even when it's hard?"

I saw the struggle in Korrin's eyes—his desire to protect me warring with his respect for my autonomy.

"I won't let you throw your life away," he insisted.

"It's not your choice to make," I replied, matching his tone.

We stood there, neither willing to back down, the air heavy with unspoken emotions. I loved him, fiercely, but I couldn't let that love cage me.

Balinta cleared her throat, breaking the standoff. "You've both had a long journey," she said firmly. "Perhaps we should take a break, get some food. No one's going anywhere tonight."

I clenched my fists, trying to center myself. The aroma of cooking meat and spices wafted through the tent, reminding me how long it had been since we'd eaten. My stomach growled traitorously.

"That... might be wise," I conceded.

Korrin nodded curtly, his jaw still tight. Without a word, he ducked out of the tent, leaving me alone with Balinta.

The baroness sighed, shaking her head. "He's stubborn, my son. But his heart is in the right place."

"I know," I said softly, sinking back onto the cushions. "I just wish he understood."

Balinta studied me for a long moment. "Give him time. And perhaps... give yourself time as well. Decisions made in haste are often regretted."

I nodded, though doubt still gnawed at me. The relics felt heavy in my hand, a physical reminder of all the mysteries that still surrounded me. As I followed Balinta out of the tent, the scents and sounds of the camp washed over me anew.

The Wandering Nation's vibrancy was a welcome distraction from the turmoil in my heart. I knew the conversation with Korrin was far from over, but for now, I let myself be swept up in the bustle of camp life, hoping it might quiet the storm of thoughts in my mind.

As I stepped out of the royal tent, the sudden shift in atmosphere was jarring. The weight of our conversation, the gravity of the choices before me, still pressed heavily on my shoulders. Yet around me, the camp had transformed into a scene of jubilation.

The air thrummed with excitement, and the scent of roasting meat and sweet spices filled my nostrils. I felt oddly disconnected, as if I watched the scene unfold from a great distance. How could the world go on, so bright and joyous, when my own future felt so uncertain?

I took a deep breath, willing myself to be present in the moment. Perhaps, I thought, I could find some clarity amidst the celebration.

"!" a familiar voice called out. I turned to see Roji approaching, a wide grin on his weathered face. "There you are. Come on, you can't miss this!"

"What's happening?" I asked, curiosity momentarily overshadowing my earlier turmoil.

Roji's eyes sparkled. "An impromptu festival to celebrate the baroness's return. It's been years since we've had cause for such revelry."

He gently took my arm, guiding me through the bustling crowd. "Let me show you around. You haven't truly experienced the Wandering Nation until you've been part of one of our celebrations."

As we walked, I marveled at the speed with which the camp had transformed. Strings of glowing lanterns crisscrossed overhead, bathing everything in a warm, golden light. The aroma of sizzling meats and baking bread made my mouth water.

"How did they put this together so quickly?" I wondered aloud.

Roji chuckled. "We're a people used to seizing moments of joy when we can. Everyone pitches in—it's part of who we are."

We passed a group of women weaving flower garlands with nimble fingers. One looked up and smiled, offering me a crown of vibrant blue blossoms. I accepted it with a grateful nod, placing it atop my head.

"It suits you," Roji said warmly. "Now, let's get you something to eat. You must be famished after your journey."

He led me to a long table laden with an array of dishes I'd never seen before. Steam rose from clay pots filled with fragrant stews, and platters overflowed with grilled meats and vegetables.

"Try this," Roji said, handing me a small, golden-brown pastry. "It's called a klova—filled with spiced meat and herbs."

I took a bite, and flavors exploded across my tongue—savory, with a hint of sweetness and a gentle warmth that spread through my chest. "It's delicious," I mumbled around the mouthful.

Roji beamed. "Wait until you try the rest. Our cooks have outdone themselves tonight."

As we sampled more dishes, Roji pointed out various clan banners and explained their significance. I found myself relaxing, caught up in the infectious joy of the celebration.

"Look there," Roji said, gesturing to a group of dancers whirling in dizzying patterns. Their colorful skirts billowed as they moved, creating a mesmerizing display. "That's the Dance of Reunion. It tells the story of loved ones finding each other after a long separation."

I watched, transfixed, as the dancers wove in and out of complex formations. There was such grace and emotion in their movements—it stirred something deep within me.

"It's beautiful," I murmured.

Roji nodded. "It is. You know, , I've never seen Korrin as happy as he is when he's with you."

A pang stabbed at my belly at the mention of Korrin. Our argument from earlier still weighed heavily on me. "I care for him deeply," I said softly. "But there's so much I need to do, to understand about myself and where I came from."

Roji's expression grew serious. "I understand. But remember, you don't have to face those challenges alone. Sometimes, having someone by your side makes you stronger, not weaker."

Before I could respond, a cheer went up from the crowd. I turned to see Baroness Balinta emerging from her tent, resplendent in flowing robes of deep maroon and copper. Korrin stood beside her, his eyes scanning the crowd until they locked with mine.

Even from a distance, the intensity of his gaze sent a quiver of need through me. I wanted nothing more than to run to him, to feel his strong arms around me. But the memory of our argument held me back.

"Go to him," Roji said gently, giving me a small push. "Life's too short for stubbornness."

I hesitated, then squared my shoulders and made my way through the crowd. As I approached, I saw Korrin's expression soften, a mix of relief and uncertainty in his eyes.

"," he rumbled. "I?—"

"Not here," I interrupted, glancing at the curious onlookers. "Can we talk somewhere more private?"

Korrin nodded, taking my hand and leading me away from the festivities. We ducked behind a large tent, the sounds of celebration muffled but still audible.

We stood in silence, the tension between us stretching unbearably. Then, simultaneously, we both spoke:

"I'm sorry?—"

A small laugh escaped me and Korrin's lips quirked up in a half-smile.

"You first," he said.

"I'm sorry for being so stubborn earlier." The words tumbled out. "I know you're just trying to protect me. But Korrin, I need you to understand—this isn't just about me. There are other women out there, women like me, who are going to get sucked into the Temple if I don't do something. I can't ignore that."

Korrin's expression softened. He reached out, gently tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. The simple touch sent warmth spreading through me.

"I understand," he said softly. "And I'm sorry, too. I shouldn't have tried to make decisions for you. It's just... the thought of you in danger, . It terrifies me."

I stepped closer to Korrin, close enough to feel the warmth radiating from his body. The scent of him—leather, spices, and something uniquely Korrin—enveloped me. My heart raced as I looked up into his gaze.

"Korrin," I said softly. "I don't want to think about any of that right now. Not tonight."