The Kingdom of Elarion was not supposed to exist.
At least, that was what every map insisted.
Maps, after all, were honest things usually. They showed mountains where stone pushed against the sky, rivers where water carved patience into the land, and oceans where ships vanished with admirable consistency. Between the Ember Coast and the Frostreach Isles, however, there was nothing. No border. No annotation. Just pale parchment and the quiet suggestion that no one had ever bothered to look too closely.
And yet, Elarion breathed.
Morning arrived with silver sunlight spilling across floating bridges, drifting towers, and rooftops carved with runes that glowed faintly when people laughed beneath them. The sky shimmered in layered blues, as if reality itself had been painted twice and forgotten to dry. Airships hovered lazily overhead, their sails catching wind that no one had ever managed to explain.
On the western edge of the capital city, Lunareth, a girl sat on a stone railing, swinging her legs over the open air beyond the city's floating edge.
Her name was Lyra Fenwick, and she was late.
Again.
Lyra squinted at the sun, then at the clocktower across the plaza. The tower blinked back at her, literally. Its enchanted face yawned before snapping awake and chiming the hour.
"Of course," Lyra muttered. "Of course it's noon."
She hopped down, boots clacking against the marble, and sprinted forward. Her satchel thudded against her hip, crammed with scrolls, half eaten honey bread, and one very illegal object wrapped in blue cloth.
She darted through the market, weaving between shouting vendors and strolling nobles.
"Fresh sky-apples!"
"Protective charms! Mostly tested!"
"Absolutely legal potions!"
Lyra nearly collided with a man juggling flaming knives.
"Sorry!" she called, ducking as a blade whizzed over her head.
"Watch where you—oh," the man paused, grinning. "It's you."
Lyra groaned. "I don't have time, Jax."
"Running late to disappoint the Academy again?"
"Running late to survive the Academy," she corrected, skidding around a corner.
The Grand Arcane Academy of Lunareth rose ahead, its ivory towers marked with glowing symbols. It hovered just above the ground, held aloft by ancient magic. Students streamed inside, their robes neat and their faces confident.
Lyra slowed, suddenly aware of her scuffed boots and wind tangled hair.
"Hold it together," she whispered. "You belong here. Probably."
She slipped through the gates just as they closed behind her with a deep hum.
Inside, the main hall buzzed with magic. Crystals floated overhead, showing scenes of old battles and legendary figures. Professors moved between students, correcting spells and arguing quietly about fate.
Lyra slid into a seat at the back just as Archmagister Thalen stepped onto the platform.
Tall. Silver haired. Calm in an annoying way.
"Today," he said, his voice carrying easily through the hall, "we begin advanced field studies. Those chosen will be sent beyond the kingdom's borders."
Excited whispers spread through the room.
Lyra leaned toward the student beside her. "Beyond the borders?"
"Yes," the girl nodded dreamily. "Where legends are real."
Lyra's grip tightened on her satchel.
Thalen continued. "Selection will be based on skill, discipline, and—"
A pause.
"fate."
Lyra frowned. Fate had never been kind to her.
"Students," Thalen said, "place your assigned maps on the table."
Groans filled the hall. Everyone hated maps, except Lyra.
She hesitated, then unwrapped the blue cloth.
The map inside was old. Older than the Academy. Its edges shifted slightly, lines rearranging themselves when she wasn't looking. It had no title, no legend, and no reason to be in her hands.
The moment she placed it on the table, the room went silent.
The map pulsed.
Light burst outward in gold and violet, throwing students back from their desks. Crystals shattered into sparks. The floor cracked beneath Lyra's feet.
"By the Stars!" Thalen shouted.
The map spread open on its own, growing far larger than it should have been. Symbols burned bright like fire. The blank space between the Ember Coast and the Frostreach Isles glowed white.
And then,
Lyra fell.
Not down.
Not forward.
Into the unknown.
The world twisted. Sound vanished. Laughter echoed strangely as darkness rushed in.
She hit the ground hard.
Grass. Cool and damp beneath her hands.
Lyra groaned and rolled onto her back, staring at a sky she had never seen before. It was deep violet, filled with slow moving stars that shifted as if whispering to each other.
She sat up.
This was not Lunareth.
She was in a clearing surrounded by tall trees with silver bark and crescent shaped leaves. Fireflies drifted through the air, humming softly.
"Well," Lyra said weakly. "This is new."
Something rustled in the bushes.
Lyra froze.
Another rustle. Heavier this time.
Her hand moved to the dagger she was not supposed to have.
A young man stepped out from the bushes.
He wore light armor marked with strange symbols, a sword resting easily on his shoulder. His dark hair was tied back carelessly, and his sharp eyes locked onto her with open interest.
He studied her, dark eyes sharp and curious.
"You fell out of the sky," he said.
Lyra blinked. "That happens more than you'd think."
He raised an eyebrow. "No, it doesn't."
She stood, brushing dirt from her clothes. "Fair. But it's been a strange day."
He smiled, and something about it felt dangerous.
"Welcome to the Uncharted Wilds," he said. "You're either very unlucky "
He paused, gaze flicking to the faintly glowing map now hovering behind her.
"or you just changed the fate of this world."
Lyra stared at the map. Then at him.
She laughed.
A short, breathless, completely inappropriate laugh.