Lira's POV
Lira adjusted the stack of scrolls on her counter, feigning disinterest as the tall stranger browsed her wares. It wasn't unusual for travelers to come through Falbridge, especially those looking for maps or enchanted trinkets, but this one… this one was different.
She hadn't missed the way he moved, purposeful yet cautious, like someone who had lived through more than most. His height made him stand out, towering over the other market-goers at well over six feet, but it wasn't just his stature that caught her attention. His face—sharp and striking, framed by unruly white hair—was almost unnervingly perfect. His deep blue eyes scanned his surroundings with a practiced sharpness, and Lira couldn't help but think they seemed too knowing for someone so young. Nineteen, maybe twenty at most, yet his gaze carried the weight of someone much older.
But it wasn't just his appearance. It was the way people reacted to him. Passersby glanced his way, some lingering as if trying to place his face. Even the merchants, who rarely cared about more than their coin, had watched him carefully. There was something about him, a presence that commanded attention without him even trying.
Lira pretended to rearrange her wares as he approached her stall, her mind racing. Is he the one? she wondered, her pulse quickening. The rumors had reached her days ago—an impossible story about a boy who had killed a Shard Beast in Tyrellos, wielding magic and skill that didn't belong to an ordinary scavenger. At first, she had dismissed it. Stories like that were common in the Shattered Lands, exaggerated tales spun to make life seem less bleak.
But this stranger… he matched the descriptions too perfectly to ignore.
"Can I help you?" she asked, her voice calm despite the questions swirling in her mind.
"I'm looking for a map," he said, his tone low and steady. "Specifically one that covers the Riftforge."
Lira's breath caught. Of all the places he could ask about, it had to be the Riftforge. She reached under the counter, pulling out the crude map she'd acquired from another traveler months ago. As she handed it over, she studied his reaction carefully. His expression didn't change, but she noticed the subtle tension in his jaw, the way his fingers tightened slightly on the parchment.
"I don't have much," she said, leaning against the counter. "Most scavengers don't make it far into the Riftforge. Whatever you're looking for, you're braver than most."
He glanced up at her then, his deep blue eyes locking onto hers for a brief moment. There was a quiet intensity in his gaze, something unspoken but undeniable. "How much?"
"Fifty shard coins," she replied. "And a warning: don't get yourself killed. Whatever's in the Riftforge isn't worth dying for."
He handed over the coins without argument, his movements efficient and deliberate. Lira watched him carefully as he turned to leave, a dozen unasked questions on her lips. Finally, she called out, "If you need anything else, my name's Lira. I run this stall most days."
He paused briefly, glancing back with a nod before disappearing into the crowd.
Lira waited until he was out of sight before slipping out from behind her stall. She pulled her cloak tight around her shoulders, her thoughts racing. She'd been searching for someone like him for weeks, following the rumors of Tyrellos and the whispers of relic hunters chasing a boy with a strange power. If he truly was the one who killed the Shard Beast, he might be her only chance.
But why is he going to the Riftforge? she wondered, weaving through the market streets. The Riftforge wasn't a place for the faint of heart—it was a death trap for most who dared approach it. And yet, the stranger had asked for a map with the calm certainty of someone who knew exactly what he was walking into.
Lira spotted him near the edge of town, his white hair catching the fading light like a beacon. He moved through the crowd with the quiet confidence of someone who had been fighting his whole life, his cloak billowing slightly as he adjusted the sword at his side. She followed at a safe distance, careful not to draw attention.
"Are you sure about this?" she muttered under her breath, more to herself than anyone else.
She knew she was taking a risk. If he wasn't the one from the rumors, if he wasn't capable of handling what lay ahead, she would be wasting her time. But if he was… if he really was the one who killed a Shard Beast, then maybe he could help her.
When he slipped into a side street, she hesitated for only a moment before following. She barely had time to react before the cold steel of his blade pressed against her throat. His deep blue eyes were sharper now, burning with suspicion.
"Why are you following me?" he demanded, his voice low and controlled.
Lira held up her hands slowly, keeping her movements calm. "I'm not your enemy," she said, her voice steady. "At least, not yet."
His gaze narrowed, but the pressure of the blade lessened slightly. "Then who are you?"
She pushed back her hood, meeting his eyes. "Someone who's interested in what you're looking for at the Riftforge. And someone who can help—if you're willing to listen."
For a moment, neither of them spoke. Then, with a faint sigh, he stepped back, lowering his sword but not sheathing it. "Talk," he said simply.
Lira straightened her cloak, keeping her gaze steady. "I think we're after the same thing. And if we are, you'll need all the help you can get."