Lyra's expression grew heavy, her fingers plucking absently at the frayed cuff of her robe as she spoke. "Divine resonance conflict. It happens when two deities hold the same or overlapping divine authority. There are only so many domains in the world, and far more gods than domains. By incomplete counts, there are tens of millions of elemental-aligned deities locked in some degree of resonance conflict."
She paused, picking at a loose thread on her sleeve. "One god of flame, another god of wildfire, another of forge-heat—when their domains overlap, both their authorities weaken. But true names change that. They anchor a domain to a single bearer, no dilution, no conflict."
Laia nodded slowly, tilting her head. "So your family intends to join this War of True Names?"
Lyra nodded, her voice tight with the weight of it. "You know the winners of the last cycle, don't you? Three claimants survived: one humanoid deity, one beast-god, one wraith. The patriarch of the Chen clan held the domain of plague, and claimed the true name of Hasturul, the Blightbringer. He gained whole legions of plague-spreaders as his birthright. The beast-king of the northern holds held purgatory fire, and took the name Cerberus, Keeper of the Hellgate. He can tear open rifts to the infernal realms at will. Only the wraath wanderer remains a mystery—no records, no lineage, nothing."
She lifted her chin, steady now, as if reciting a prayer she'd repeated a hundred times. "To bear a true name is to walk the path of the One True God. It is the only way to reach the threshold of God Emperor. The borders are failing. The void presses closer every year. We have to try for the name of Vidar, the Silent Warden of the Woods. If we fail… if we don't secure it?"
A bitter smile tugged at her mouth. "My sister and I are worth nothing to the clan but marriage alliances. And if the house fractures entirely after the war? The consequences don't bear thinking about."
Laia's face stayed perfectly neutral as she listened. This had nothing to do with her. Wars of god-kings and true names were the business of ancient houses and imperial lines, not broke scholarship students scraping by on part-time work and leftover dining hall bread. She had no business sticking her nose into that kind of danger.
But Lyra was the closest thing she had to a friend at the academy. She couldn't just walk away.
Well, she could. She'd considered it. Briefly.
She bit the edge of her thumbnail, thinking, then looked back at Lyra. "The Exile Marches kill people on contact. Everyone knows that. If even veteran border lords won't venture deep, what makes you think you can reach the Far Shore of the Void Sea?"
"Better to bet my life on a chance than sit here and wait for my sister to die," Lyra said, quiet and unshakable. "If the odds aren't zero, it's worth trying."
Laia's jaw tightened. "Be reasonable. The void is more dangerous than you think. Fallen gods haunt even the outer edges. The mist seeps into your realm every second you're there, and if it breaches your core? That's a death sentence. And besides—isn't there any other way to get a true name besides fighting a war for it?"
Lyra shook her head. "They say a God Emperor can grant true names, but—what, is there a God Emperor hiding in your family tree, Laia?"
Laia sidestepped the question entirely, folding her arms across her chest. "Fine. Let's say you go. How exactly do you plan to survive long enough to unlock Void Resistance? That's no trivial trait to awaken."
She held back the rest of the thought: My subjects get pummeled by void storms every single week, and it still took them years to build up full resistance. She wasn't about to broadcast her realm's weirdly thin veil to anyone, not even Lyra.
To her surprise, Lyra's eyes lit up, bright and eager. "There's a way! A rare herb that can awaken the trait directly. It's banned from official trade, of course, but there are channels to get it. If I can get even one sprig, I'll be able to move through the outer marches safely."
Laia raised an eyebrow. "Oh? And where does this miracle herb grow?"
Lyra hesitated, then mumbled, "In the void."
Silence.
Laia held up both hands, palms out, her expression deadpan. "Let me walk through this again. You need Void Resistance to safely enter the void and harvest this herb."
"Right."
"And the herb that gives you Void Resistance grows inside the void."
"Exactly."
Laia stared at her for a long, flat beat. "So let me get this straight. This whole plan is just you making up your mind to go, with no actual way to get in the door?"
"I'm serious about this, Laia," Lyra said, squaring her shoulders, her chin tilted up stubbornly. "I've been planning for months. I have maps. I have supplies. I'm not just making it up as I go."
Laia sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. She was willing to bet good money some grifter had sold Lyra a fake story about a magic herb, planning to lure a rich, sheltered noble girl into the marches and rob her blind. Naive, loaded, desperate to save her sister? It was the perfect mark.
"Calm down," she said, dropping her hand. "Stop making grand death-or-glory plans and stressing yourself out. If things get that bad, just grab your sister and elope. Change your names. Lay low somewhere out in the countryside. It's probably easier than trekking across the void for a magic flower."
Lyra blinked, her mouth hanging open for a second.
"…Elope? I don't think that word is used for sisters, Laia."
Laia waved a hand dismissively. "Semantics. The point stands."
She glanced up at the sun climbing higher over the academy spires, and sighed again. She was going to regret this. She knew she was going to regret this.
But she'd already decided to go to the Exile Marches for the elemental fruit. And Lyra had maps, supplies, and a route planned out. And if they really did stumble toward the Void Sea along the way… well, a vial of Far Shore water would sell for enough crystals to buy three elemental attunement pools, easy.
"Look," she said, keeping her voice casual, like it was a last-minute afterthought. "I'm heading out to the outer marches over the break too. Trait research. We can travel together for the first stretch. Don't go running off alone before then. Got it?"
Lyra's face lit up so bright it was almost blinding.
"Really? You'll come? Laia, you're the best—"
"Just the outer marches," Laia cut in quickly, holding up a finger. "No deep void treks. No Far Shore suicide missions. I'm there for my own errand, and I'm leaving as soon as I'm done. Don't get any ideas."
Lyra nodded so fast her braids bounced. "Of course! Absolutely! Thank you, Laia. Thank you so much."
Laia huffed and turned toward the training grounds, her ears faintly warm.
It was just a practical arrangement, she told herself. Safety in numbers. Shared supplies. A faster route. Nothing more.
She was absolutely not going soft for the first friend she'd made at the academy.
Absolutely not.
Ahead of them, Lord Thorne's cane tapped sharply against the stone steps of the barracks, sharp and impatient. The other apprentices were already lined up, waiting for the day's lesson to begin.
Laia squared her shoulders and kept walking.
She had a seven-day abyss trial to pass first. Then she'd worry about void herbs and far shores and all the rest of it.