The Border of Becoming
809 Words
Lucian stumbled through the last stretch of forest, breath ragged, cloak torn. The sun was rising—soft gold spilling over the horizon, warming the frostbitten edges of the world.
He had made it.
The border of Polis.
He stepped into the clearing—and froze.
Two figures waited for him.
One stood tall and still, arms crossed, eyes sharp as obsidian. Kassiopiea. Her expression unreadable.
The other leaned on a massive sword, its blade sunk into the earth like a monument. Titus. The strongest warrior in the Polarian army. The only one who had ever bested Eden in combat—and even then, only once.
Lucian raised his hands slowly. “I’m not here to fight.”
Titus didn’t move. “Good. Because you’d lose.”
Lucian almost smiled. “Would I?”
Kass stepped forward. “You’re lucky she sent us.”
Lucian lowered his hands. “I know.”
They didn’t speak again. They didn’t need to. Kass turned, and Lucian followed. Titus walked behind him, silent but watchful.
They led him through the woods, past the outer sentries, into the hidden paths only Polarians knew. At the edge of a quiet glade, they stopped.
“She’s waiting,” Kass said.
Lucian stepped forward—and there she was.
Eden.
Standing beneath the twisted branches of a silverleaf tree, her cloak billowing in the wind, her eyes locked on his.
Neither spoke.
Not at first.
Then Eden said, “You came.”
Lucian nodded. “I had to.”
Convincing her father was not easy.
King Markus of Polis was a man of reason, but also of pride. He had fought in the early border wars. He had buried friends and brothers at the hands of Shadorians. And now his daughter stood before him, asking him to shelter one.
“He’s not like them,” Eden said. “He’s something else. He’s part of the prophecy.”
Markus’s gaze was hard. “And you trust him?”
“I saw what he saw. I felt it. He’s not our enemy.”
Lucian stood silent, letting her speak for him. He knew better than to plead. He had nothing to offer but truth—and truth was rarely welcome in courts of power.
At last, Markus spoke. “You have three days. He stays under guard. If I sense even a whisper of betrayal…”
“You’ll have my sword,” Eden said.
Lucian met the king’s eyes. “And mine.”
From the far end of the chamber, Queen Elizabeth watched quietly, her expression unreadable. She had always seen more than she said. And though she did not speak now, Eden felt her mother’s gaze settle on Lucian—not with suspicion, but with something else.
Recognition.
As the sun set over Polis, the first threads of the alliance were woven. Fragile. Tense. Uncertain.
But real.
And in the quiet that followed, Eden and Lucian stood alone in the garden of mazes, where the goddess once whispered.
They did not speak of love.
Not yet.
But something had begun.
The garden was quiet, but Eden felt the tension in the air like static.
Queen Elizabeth stood among the silverleaf trees, hands clasped, gaze distant. She wore her crown like a burden, her robes pristine, her posture perfect. But Eden saw the cracks beneath it all.
“You summoned me,” Eden said.
Elizabeth turned slowly. “You’ve been distracted.”
“I’ve been preparing.”
“You’re not a soldier,” the queen replied. “You’re a future queen. Your focus should be on diplomacy, not swords.”
Eden stepped closer. “You know the prophecy.”
“I know it’s real,” Elizabeth said, voice tight. “And I know what it says. That you will rise. That you will fall. That our kingdom will burn.”
Eden’s jaw clenched. “Then why do you pretend it’s not happening?”
“Because I’m your mother,” Elizabeth whispered. “And I hate knowing how your story ends.”
Silence.
Then Eden said, “This isn’t the time to mourn a future that hasn’t happened. It’s time to fight for the one that still can.”
Elizabeth didn’t respond. She turned back to the trees, her silence louder than any scream.
Eden left her there heading towards the training grounds.
The training yard was alive with motion.
Kass moved like wind—fast, precise, unpredictable. Titus was a mountain—solid, unshakable, brutal. And Lucian… Lucian was something else entirely.
He matched Kass’s speed, countered Titus’s strength, and moved with a grace that made Eden’s breath catch.
She joined them, blade in hand, cloak tossed aside. The four of them trained until the sun dipped low, until sweat and laughter replaced silence and suspicion.
It was the first time Eden saw Lucian smile.
It wouldn’t last.
- Writer
