novelraw Chapter 127 : The Town That Grew Too Fast
Chapter 127 : The Town That Grew Too Fast
(Lyra’s POV)
The tower’s staircase groaned under my boots as I made my rounds for the third time that morning.
Everywhere I looked, Valemont was buzzing with life—too much life.
When Darius first turned this wasteland into farmland, I used to joke that we’d need guards just to stop the weeds from stealing space.
Now?
I’d pay to have only weeds again.
The streets below the tower were packed with traders, farmers, and drifters who’d followed the scent of easy coin.
People shouting, bartering, arguing.
Carts jammed the main road, stalls blocked alleyways, and half the buildings leaned against each other like they were too tired to stand alone.
“Too many people,” I muttered under my breath, clutching my clipboard tighter.
“No proper law. No militia. Prices all over the place…”
I could already hear Darius’ calm, steady voice in my head:
‘Growth is a good problem to have.’
Good problem, my foot.
Every corner I turned, someone was fighting over market space.
Half the merchants still measured crops by hand instead of standard weight, and the other half invented new currencies daily.
And the villagers—they still behaved like exiles.
Everyone for themselves.
No law. No order. No sense of community.
“Honestly,” I grumbled, “we cure the land, and suddenly everyone forgets how to behave like humans.”
I was halfway through scolding a group of traders for blocking the road when I heard a familiar voice call from behind me.
“Lady Lyra!”
I turned to see Iris Vaelwyn hurrying up the street, her silver hair gleaming under the morning light.
She held a sealed scroll in her hand and wore an expression that was far too calm for someone walking straight into my storm of irritation.
“Please tell me that scroll contains good news,” I said, crossing my arms.
She didn’t even blink. “That depends on how you define good.”
“Oh, perfect,” I sighed. “Go on then—ruin my day.”
“The elven envoy from Elarindor will arrive in several days,” Iris said evenly.
“They carry the mark of the Seer of the Veil herself.”
I froze. “...Come again?”
She extended the scroll. The seal was unmistakable—woven roots of silver mana pressed into wax.
Authentic. Unforged.
I blinked slowly, letting the words settle in my head.
“The Seer? From the Holy Forest?”
“Yes.”
“That’s impossible,” I snapped. “A Seer can’t leave her sanctuary. The entire forest depends on her presence.”
Iris inclined her head slightly. “It appears the forest allowed it. Or perhaps… commanded it.”
I stared at her for a moment, waiting for the punchline.
None came.
“Do they know about the Supreme Spell?” I finally asked.
“They do now,” Iris replied, “but it isn’t why they’re coming.”
I frowned. “Then what in the world could drag a divine oracle halfway across the continent?”
“The Seer,” Iris continued carefully, “has spoken of a vision. A future in which she must find her destined mate—the one with whom she can save the world.”
I just… stared.
“Her what?”
“Mate,” Iris repeated, perfectly serious.
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My mouth opened, then closed again. “That’s absurd. A Seer’s life is bound to prophecy, not romance. They live untouched—”
I stopped mid-sentence.
A terrible, sinking thought hit me.
“Wait.”
Iris nodded slightly, reading my expression. “Yes. She believes her fated partner is in Valemont.”
I pressed a hand to my forehead. “Please don’t say it.”
“She described him as the child of human flesh bearing the song of the roots,” Iris said quietly. “There’s only one person who matches that.”
I groaned, dragging a hand down my face. “Of course there is.”
I started pacing across the tower’s floor, muttering under my breath.
“The Seer of the Veil. Coming here. To meet Rooga. Because she thinks he’s her—”
I stopped, exhaled sharply. “Selene’s going to love this.”
Iris raised an eyebrow. “Should we inform her immediately?”
“Are you insane? I’m not letting her blast a holy envoy before they even cross the border!”
She didn’t smile, but her tone carried faint amusement. “Then I suggest preparing a guest chamber that can withstand divine mana—and a mother’s temper.”
I groaned again. “Wonderful. Just what this town needed—another miracle child and a prophecy about true love saving the world.”
I turned toward the window, watching the chaos of the market below.
Valemont had survived corruption, divine storms, and human greed.
But this?
I wasn’t sure it would survive Selene’s reaction.
(Selene’s POV)
I had been having a good morning for once.
Eria’s magic practice had gone smoothly, Riaz was outside training with Kain, and Darius was finally sleeping in after another long night of patrols.
Then Lyra walked in.
And peace died.
I could tell something was wrong the moment she stepped through the door.
Lyra only looked that stiff when she was about to deliver the kind of news that made me want to throw a fireball through the wall.
“What is it this time?” I asked, setting down my cup. “Please tell me it’s not another trade argument or someone stealing crops again.”
Lyra took a deep breath. “No. It’s… a visitor. From the Holy Forest.”
That caught my attention immediately. “You mean elves? We haven’t had elven contact in decades.”
“Not just any elf,” she said. “The Seer of the Veil herself.”
I blinked. Then blinked again. “Excuse me?”
“The Seer,” Lyra repeated slowly, “of Elarindor. The Holy Forest. She’s coming here, to Valemont.”
My cup nearly slipped from my hand. “That’s impossible. A Seer never leaves her sanctuary. The forest’s balance depends on her staying there.”
“That’s what I said,” Lyra muttered. “Apparently, this one doesn’t care about rules. She claims she had a vision.”
I leaned back, narrowing my eyes. “What kind of vision?”
Lyra’s tone flattened. “The kind where she saw her future mate waiting for her… here.”
There was a silence so thick that even the fire crackling in the hearth seemed afraid to make a sound.
Then I laughed — short, humorless.
“A Seer of the Veil—divine, ancient, chosen by the forest—had a vision that her husband is living in Valemont.”
Lyra nodded carefully. “Yes.”
I put my cup down before I shattered it.
“Who is it this time?” I said sharply. “Please tell me she didn’t point to Darius again. I’ve had enough women doing that for one lifetime.”
Lyra’s mouth twitched. “No. Not Darius.”
“Then who?”
Her answer was soft, but it hit like a hammer. “Rooga.”
I stood up so fast my chair nearly toppled.
“My son?”
Lyra winced. “Yes.”
I started pacing, each step sharp against the floorboards. “First Seris—Elara decided she’d make a perfect fiancée for him. Then that merchant’s daughter, the one whose father promised her hand years ago but never bothered to send her. And now—”
I stopped, throwing up my hands. “Now an old woman from the Holy Forest suddenly declares herself his wife?”
“She’s not old,” Lyra said cautiously. “Actually, quite young—”
“I don’t care if she’s newborn!” I snapped. “The point stands. What’s next? Goddesses lining up at our door?”
Lyra folded her arms, clearly trying not to smile. “Considering Rooga’s history with divine attention, I wouldn’t rule it out.”
I glared at her. “You’re not helping.”
Silence fell again, broken only by my sigh.
I pressed my fingers against my temple.
“My son can’t even go into town without people staring like he’s my apprentice,” I muttered.
“Half the village still thinks I cast the rain, and now there’s a divine prophecy knocking at our door.”
Lyra tilted her head. “You don’t believe her?”
“I don’t care whether it’s true or not,” I said. “What I care about is keeping him safe.”
I looked out the window, where Maori’s great tree shimmered faintly in the distance.
“He’s already done more than anyone should at his age. He’s healed the land, carried burdens no child should. And now this Seer wants to drag him into another prophecy? No. Absolutely not.”
Lyra didn’t argue. She just watched me, her eyes calm and understanding.
Finally, she said, “You can’t stop prophecy, Selene. You know that.”
“I can stop anyone who tries to use it to take my son,” I said flatly.
For a long moment, we said nothing.
Then Lyra cleared her throat. “The envoy will arrive in four days. You might want to prepare your composure before then.”
I huffed. “Composure? You expect me to smile while an elf priestess claims my son as her divine match?”
Lyra shrugged. “If it helps, I’m sure she’ll be polite about it.”
I stared at her. “Polite?”
Lyra smirked. “Yes. You can threaten her politely.”
I couldn’t help it — I laughed.
A low, weary laugh that carried more exhaustion than humor.
“Fine,” I muttered, rubbing my forehead. “But I’m warning you, if this Seer so much as breathes the word ‘husband,’ I’m casting Vermilion Spark on the entire delegation.”
“Noted,” Lyra said dryly. “I’ll prepare the fire wards.”