The herald raised his golden staff and announced:
— The Fifth Trial of the Eleven — The Crossing of Echoes!
The crowd roared, but soon fell silent.
Everyone knew this trial’s reputation — it was the cruelest of those that tested the heart.
Amid the murmuring, the Autumn delegation entered the square.
At the front walked a figure who drew attention through sheer composure: Sarya Veyrunn, Huntress of Autumn.
Proud, yet silent.
1.75 meters tall, wearing a tight armor that didn’t hinder movement.
Her long red hair, braided in a root braid, swayed at her hips with each step.
The bow rested across her back, and her amber eyes scanned the space like a predator mapping its prey.
Lukas saw her for the first time.
…She wasn’t in my past life.
His chest tightened. What else will appear that didn’t exist before?
César muttered, deep and analytical:
“She’s hunted. She’s killed. Walks like a trained soldier, not a mere archer.”
Morgana laughed, venomous:
“And she walks like sin itself. Look at that braid, chocolatinho... imagine pulling that.”
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Lukas gritted his teeth.
“Shut up.”
Then the wind stirred — another presence drew the crowd’s attention.
Valen Rowan, son of the Patriarch of Autumn.
Tall as a wall, 1.92 meters, fiery red hair falling over his shoulders, cloak embroidered with scorched leaves that shimmered under the sun.
He walked with the confidence of one who knew every eye was upon him.
And indeed, they were.
But his gaze sought only one person: Sarya.
— So it’s true... — he said, voice clear, dripping with irony.
— They sent the best Huntress of Autumn to compete in Sorriso.
Sarya didn’t stop. She simply tilted her head, replying with cold detachment.
— I’m here to follow orders, Valen. Nothing more.
A crooked smile bent his lips.
— Orders... or maybe you just don’t want to admit you came here for me?
Murmurs rippled through the spectators. Some chuckled. Others exchanged looks.
Sarya didn’t answer.
Her braid danced in the wind as she walked past him without turning.
Valen stood still, smiling — as if he had already won some invisible battle.
Lukas watched from afar, eyes narrowing.
That guy… obsessed with her. The kind who never accepts losing what he desires.
César: “He’s dangerous. Not because of his spear or sword… but because of the poison in his tongue.”
Morgana: “And what a sweet poison. I bet some of it’s coming your way, chocolatinho. I can’t wait.”
The herald raised the staff again, commanding silence.
— Competitors, prepare yourselves! The Crossing begins in moments!
Banners fluttered. The crowd erupted in applause.
But Lukas remained still, thinking quietly:
Sarya. Valen. Two new pieces on the board.
And neither of them existed before.
End of Chapter 4