The Quiet Light of the Valley

It had been only a few days since Kate opened her eyes again.

Life, as it turned out, became simpler from that point on. Lia still went out to gather supplies, lots of times coming back with not only herbs, but forest mushrooms, wild leafy greens and the occasional edible root. The knightess, however, didn’t like the thought of the princess being by herself outside. So, as soon as her wounds permitted, Kate followed Lia on one of those trips.

The forest around them still carried the scent of smoke: not thick anymore, but stubborn, lingering in the bark and the soil. Each step they took left faint imprints on gray dust.

Lia walked a little ahead, her satchel heavy with empty jars and bits of dried herbs. Behind her, Kate followed in silence, one hand resting lightly against her side. The bandages held, though every uneven stone in the path made her flinch.

They hadn’t spoken much since dawn, when a discussion was had about Lia going alone again. The quiet between them wasn’t uncomfortable, only fragile, as if words might break the thin agreement that had settled after too much running, too much loss.

When the trees finally began to thin, the air changed. It smelled different. Wet grass, maybe. Something green.

Lia slowed, squinting through the haze. The forest gave way to open fields, and light spilled over the horizon: soft, golden, almost alive. Blades of grass swayed like water, and further ahead, sunlight caught on glasslike cliffs, turning them translucent.

Kate stopped beside her, breath shallow.

“Is that…?”

“A valley,” Lia said, almost whispering. “And it’s alive.”

They stood there for a moment, just looking.

The road sloped downward, winding between wildflowers that had somehow survived the fire. Each petal seemed to catch light from nowhere, glowing faintly against the gray earth. At the end of it, almost a gray smudge in the golden fields, a small village stood.

Kate’s hand tightened on her cloak.

“If there’s life down there, there’ll be people.”

“I hope so.” Lia said, without hesitation.

Kate glanced sideways.

“You hope so?”

Lia’s eyes stayed on the horizon.

“We can’t hide in the woods forever. If this valley survived, maybe we can, too.”

The knight’s expression softened - not agreement exactly, but a tired kind of trust.

“All right. But we go slow. Careful.”

“Of course.”

They started down the slope, one step at a time. The wind brushed through Kate’s hair, catching in strands of copper. Lia adjusted her pack, glancing back once, checking if Kate needed any help.

The knightess, however, just kept going forward.

The road led them into a quiet rhythm - the crunch of boots against earth, the whisper of wind through tall grass. As they walked, the valley unfolded in layers: gold fields giving way to clusters of trees, then to neat lines of irrigation canals glimmering with light. The air smelled of grain, honey, and sun-warmed stone.

Nestled at the base of the cliffs was a village.

From a distance, the rooftops shone like coins, with clay tiles mixed with flecks of crystal dust that caught the light in slow, shimmering pulses. Small gardens clung to every wall, vines heavy with fruit and flowers. Wooden bridges arched over channels of clear water that hummed faintly, carrying warmth from the veins of solar magic beneath the soil.

Lia slowed, wonder spreading across her face.

“It’s beautiful.” She breathed.

Kate scanned the path, eyes wary.

“Beautiful places can still be dangerous.”

But even she couldn’t ignore the calm that lived here, the hum of a village alive, untouched by smoke or war. Chickens darted through the paths; a bell chimed softly somewhere beyond the hill.

When they finally stepped into the main street, the chatter of daily life halted.

Farmers, potters, children - all turned to look at the two strangers covered in dust and travel, clothes a mismatched mess of torn royal clothes and old dusty apparel. For a heartbeat, silence pressed down heavy. Then, a woman with hair the color of ash stepped forward, wiping her hands on a linen apron.

“Travelers?” She asked, her tone cautious but not unkind.

Lia nodded.

“We didn’t mean to intrude. We were… Passing through.”

The woman studied them, eyes lingering on the faint shimmer of runes beneath Kate’s cloak.

“Passing through,” she repeated, as if testing the words. “Few do, this far south.”

Another voice cut in, rough but warm.

“They look half-starved, Maren. Let them breathe.”

A broad-shouldered man emerged from a nearby forge, his apron dusted with gold powder. The heat behind him shimmered with more than fire as tiny veins of crystal ran through the stone walls, glowing faintly with stored sunlight.

He smiled, not unkindly.

“Name’s Thalen. And this here’s Old Maren - our village healer, though she hates being called that.”

Maren snorted.

“Because I’m not old.”

Kate’s hand brushed the hilt of her sword, but Lia stepped forward first, offering a careful smile.

“My name’s Lia. This is Kate. We’re… Actually, we’re renovating the old cabin in the woods south of here.”

Maren’s sharp eyes softened when they met Lia’s.

“You’ve got the hands of a gatherer,” she said, glancing at the satchel of herbs. “And the look of someone who doesn’t know when to stop working.”

Lia blinked, startled into a laugh.

“Maybe both are true.”

That seemed to be enough.

Maren gestured toward a smaller path.

“There’s some leftovers from the renovation we did on my house last summer. Thalen was gentle enough to store them behind his place - feel free to grab anything.”

“And if you’ve got a blade in need of fixing, bring it by. Payment can wait until you’ve eaten.” Thalen added.

Kate hesitated, glancing toward Lia - who, for the first time in what felt like forever, didn’t look lost. She nodded gratefully.

“Thank you.”

As they walked through the village, people slowly returned to their work. The sound of laughter drifted from the courtyard; a child waved, bold enough to smile at them. The tension ebbed, replaced by something gentler.

After gathering some materials, they stop to look at the fields beyond.

“Maybe,” Lia said softly, “we were meant to find this place.”

Kate adjusted the strap of her pack, eyes still wary but softer now.

“Or maybe it found us.”

The light had softened into amber, the sky brushed with pink, and the valley hummed with quiet life in the field beyond. Bees moved through lavender and wheat alike, the faint trickle of water nearby.

That was when the small voice came.

“You’re the sun people.”

Both turned. A little girl stood on the dirt path behind them, barefoot and serious, holding a clay jug that looked too heavy for her arms.

Kate’s hand twitched toward her sword, out of habit, but Lia quickly touched her arm.

“Easy.”

The girl tilted her head, studying them.

“Your armor glows,” she said to Kate, matter-of-fact, before moving her eyes to Lia. “And the flowers like you.”

Lia blinked, following the girl’s gaze. The herbs tied to her satchel were faintly luminous, their petals unfolding toward her in the fading light.

“Oh,” Lia said softly. “That’s… Just the reflection.”

The child frowned, clearly unconvinced.

“Mama says light doesn’t trick.”

Lia opened her mouth to answer, but the girl had already turned, running back toward the village, the water on the jug splashing lightly with her steps.

Kate let out a slow breath.

“Sun people, huh?”

Lia sighed, rubbing the bridge of her nose.

“Wonderful. Day one, and we’re already a child’s bed time story.”

Kate’s smirk was small.

“Could be worse. Could be the mushroom people.”

Lia tried not to laugh, and failed.

They made their way back to the old cabin - their cabin now - carrying the scraps of wood and tools Thalen and Maren had given them. The sight of it was familiar and weary: the roof still crooked, one shutter hanging loose, herbs from Lia’s drying rack swaying in the breeze.

“Home sweet home, I guess,” Lia said quietly. “Though it needs some TLC.”

Kate nodded, setting down the pack with a grunt.

“Then let’s make it better.”

They worked through the last of the light, sweeping dust, hammering boards back into place, mending what time and fire had loosened. The warmth from the valley crept in through the open door, gold and steady.

When they finally stopped, night had fallen. A lamp burned low on the table, throwing soft light over the walls.

Kate sat back, stretching her shoulder.

“So… What exactly are we now?” Lia choked on her tea, a furious blush creeping from her chest up. Kate immediately went to help, before finally understanding what she asked and blushing too. “Not like that! I meant in like… Our personas. We can’t be the knight and the princess while on the run…”

It took some seconds for Lia to finally calm down and think properly about the question.

“How about…. I’m a herbalist and gatherer, traveling south in search of rare ingredients.”

Kate raised an eyebrow.

“And me?”

“You’re... A mercenary who got hurt protecting me from bandits. Or, or, wolves! Wait - maybe both.”

Kate gave a disbelieving laugh.

“Wolves and bandits? Together? That’s ambitious.”

“It’s memorable.” Lia states, with a resolute nod and serious expression, before dissolving in a fit of giggles.

The knightess by her side can’t resist but chuckle along.

Their laughter lingered for a while, gentle and quiet.

Outside, the valley rested beneath starlight, and the faint hum of the canals echoed like a heartbeat through the ground.

The rain began just as they had the last of their meal. A soft drizzle at first, then steady, rhythmic; a sound that filled the little cabin until it felt alive again.

Lia stretched her back with a sigh, looking around. The repairs weren’t perfect, nor done, but they held. A few candles flickered on the table, and the air smelled faintly of pine, drying herbs and warm stew. She yawned, finally being able to relax a bit.

“Tired?” Kate asked, softly. Lia nodded, and rubbed her eyes.

“These past nights haven’t been the best…”

Katherine winced.

“Sorry. If I haven’t gotten hurt…” She started, but the princess cut her off.

“Nonsense. You did what you could, and that was enough. We’re both alive, ain’t we?” She said, using Katherine’s own words against her. Kate smiled softly.

“Fair enough, your highness.”

“Lia.” Kate frowned, confused. “Call me Lia now. I know you already do, but… I’m not a princess here. I’m a herbalist.”

“Lia then.” Kate said, her voice soft with an emotion neither of them could quite place. “You should go to bed - we did a lot today.”

That was when Lia noticed the problem.

“Oh.” She muttered.

Kate followed her gaze, eyebrow raising.

“Something wrong?”

The narrow, lopsided bed was pushed against the wall, still covered with the same worn and bloodied quilt from when they first found the place. The mattress looked soft - well, soft enough. But still… It was only a single bed.

“Just…” Lia gestured helplessly toward the bed. “That.”

Kate’s mouth quirked into a half-smile, but she couldn’t hide the faint blush in her cheeks.

“I’ll take the floor.”

“Of course not.” Lia said, matter of factly. “You’re still recovering.”

“I’ve slept on worse.”

Lia folded her arms.

“And probably reopened your wounds by doing it. No.”

Kate frowned, the stubborn line between her brows deepening.

“I’m not letting you take the floor either.”

“Then what do you suggest?” Lia shot back, more flustered than she intended.

The silence stretched. Both stared at the bed.

Finally, Kate sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose, her blush growing slightly.

“Fine. We share. But stay on your side.”

“Fine!” Lia said, though her voice came out a little too high, her blush a little too bright.

They settled awkwardly, backs turned and trying not to touch, each pretending to be far more comfortable than they were. The rain kept falling, soft against the roof, and the flicker of candlelight danced across the ceiling.

For a long time, neither spoke. Lia could hear Kate’s breathing - steady, warm - just a little too close. The kind of closeness that made her heart thunder in her chest.

When she finally dared to glance over her shoulder, Kate was still awake, eyes open, watching the window.

“Can’t sleep?” Lia asked softly.

“I… I’m not used to quiet.” Kate murmured. However, they both knew she was lying.

“Me neither.” Lia whispered back.

The words hung there, small but true.

Outside, the rain slowed to a drizzle. Inside, two strangers bound by ruin and light lay side by side, not sleeping yet, but not alone, either.

Kate then put her hand on the mattress between them, almost touching Lia. Neither of them could tell apart their own heartbeats from the other, until Lia reached out, tangling their fingers together.

In that moment, both of them were glad the dark was hiding their growing blushes.

“Lia…?” Kate asked, her voice hoarse.

“Shh.” The princess said, softly, voice bolder than what she was really feeling. “We should sleep.”

“… Are you sure?”

“Course I am. We are both tired… And you’re injured. And honestly… I don’t mind.” She squeezes Kate’s hand. “I’m… Nervous, yes. But… It’s just you, Kate. And it’s just me.”

“It’s not really proper for a princess to sleep with a knight…”

Lia has to fight with all her strength to not choke again.

“It might not be. But, right now… I’m Lia. And you’re Kate. Simple as that.”

This time, Kate is the one to tighten her hold on Lia’s hand.

“Simple as that.”