NOVEL NEXT Vol 3. Chapter 7: I Can't Hear It Now
Lukas cut through the sky, the wind howling past his ears, the dark stretch of sea beneath them restless and glimmering under the fading moonlight. In his arms, Rosalia stirred. Her lashes fluttered as she blinked into the night.
When her eyes finally focused, she stiffened.
"Where… where are we?" Her voice was groggy, still tangled in sleep, but the unease in her voice was immediate.
Lukas didn't slow. The ocean below had grown restless again—white crests snapping at the horizon—but it was no longer the furious, world-breaking storm it had once been. Ever since he had stilled its rage, the sea had not regained its full wrath. If Daerion tried to send ships after them, calmer waters only made pursuit easier and Lukas wasn't going to take that chance.
Rosalia asked again, louder this time. "Lukas, what's going on!?"
Instead of answering with words, he called upon the Crown.
In an instant, the events of the night before bled into her mind—images, sounds, emotions—raw and unfiltered.
Her breath caught. Her fingers dug into his arm until her nails bit into his skin. Rosalia shook her head violently, eyes widening as the tide of memory drowned her.
Every battle cry. Every scream. Every fall. Every loss. Rosalia saw it all.
"Stop!" she cried.
"We can't," Lukas told her, voice tight. "Not until Easthaven is long behind us."
But Rosalia pushed against him, panic breaking through her shock.
She screamed the word again—"Stop!"—and this time the world listened.
Mana surged, wild and immediate, coiling around her will. A wall of invisible force slammed into Lukas mid-flight. The impact tore him from the air, his wings straining against the sudden resistance before he crashed into the unseen barrier. Rosalia slipped from his grasp—yet she did not fall. She hovered, suspended in the air as if the wind itself was holding her.
Lukas lunged for her, but the barrier had reshaped itself, enclosing her in a sphere of thickened air so charged with magic it hummed with intensity. The wind bent around it like water flowing past stone.
Inside, Rosalia was trembling, her knees drawn to her chest. Her sobs were sharp and unsteady, her face hidden in the cage of her arms. The pure, unbridled magic she had summoned rippled outward, carrying with it the sound of her grief.
Lukas pressed his forehead against the invisible wall. He could feel her pain through their connection—it was raw, jagged, enough to make his own throat tighten.
Just yesterday, Rosalia had stood at the heart of a cheering crowd, fire in her eyes as she vowed to follow in Magnus' footsteps; to rule over the people of Easthaven that she cared so deeply for.
Now, that dream had been ripped away before it had even begun.
Why her? Why this? Why couldn't the world, for once, just let her be happy?
Lukas stayed there, forehead pressed against the barrier, as her sobs shook the night sky. Not only had she lost her grandfather—she had lost her home. Easthaven had been her entire world, it was all she had known for years. The cobbled streets, the marble halls, the laughter that echoed through its markets—all of it had been hers since the day she was born. Now Rosalia did not even know if she would ever set foot in that Kingdom ever again.
Lukas felt it all. Her pain, her thoughts and raw, searing weight of her grief as if it were his own. He placed a hand against the invisible barrier, shaking his head helplessly as she curled into a tight ball, her sobs so deep they caught in her throat until they became strangled gasps.
There was the pain of loss.
And then there was the pain of betrayal.
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The people she had trusted without question had been the ones to twist the knife deepest:
Celina—the Divine Knight, her mother's dearest friend, the woman she had once saw as her hero—had stood at her side for years, guiding her, shaping her into the person she was today. And yet it was Celina who had drugged her, taken her against her will to be used by the same King that now controlled Easthaven.
Maelis—her uncle, her mother's younger brother—who had laughed with her, encouraged her, supported all her outlandish dreams and rebellious tendencies. Now, Maelis was also the man who had helped bring about Magnus Elarion's death; the death of his own father, her grandfather. And he had done it, all so he could take her place, stealing the future she had been ready to fight for.
Who could Rosalia trust now?
Her gaze flickered to Lukas, red-eyed and wet with tears. Could she even trust him? What if Lukas too was only keeping her close for her power—for that cursed gift everyone whispered would change the world? And this power of hers, gods of Hiraeth and beyond, she hated it. Because if she had so much power, why hadn't she been able to stop this from happening? Why hadn't she been able to save her own people Why had she been powerless when it mattered most?
Her sobs deepened, breaking into raw cries that carried through the air.
Lukas heard her doubts, her questions, each one like a shard driven into his own mind through their connection.
Rosalia simply wanted it all to end.
What was the point of going on? She had been tested and broken and made to pick herself back up again so many times. Every time she had risen from each defeat, failure and obstacle. Every time she had forced a smile, put on a brave face because she wasn't a quitter. Every time she had swallowed the pain for the sake of those around her. Every time she believed that this was the worst of it.
But Rosalia was tired. She was tired of fighting, tired of being brave, tired of existing in a world that only seemed intent on taking everything from her.
And then Rosalia felt it.
It was another rush of memories flooding through their connection—but this time it was far different.
Rosalia turned her head and saw Lukas with his eyes closed, brow furrowed as if reaching deep within himself. And then she understood why.
She was now seeing the world through Lukas' eyes.
Rosalia saw the very first moment they met, how she had found Lukas lying on the shores of Easthaven and how grateful he had been when she had saved his life.
Rosalia saw herself—smaller, younger—giggling as she tugged him by the hand, leading him barefoot through the palace halls in the middle of the night after having stolen some of her favorite pastries from the kitchen.
Rosalia saw herself training with everything she had, and felt the quiet admiration Lukas carried for her even then, because to him, she was the most determined child he had ever known.
Rosalia saw herself laughing among dragons and wyverns on the deck of their ship to Nozar, her joy so radiant that it warmed everyone around her.
Rosalia saw herself walking beside Jesse, cheeks pink, her affection for the young dragonborn unspoken yet unmistakable.
And through all the memories she saw, Rosalia felt the love Lukas held for her. The pride that he felt whenever he saw this young girl that he had watched grow up before his eyes. The quiet awe Lukas had at how far she had come.
Her greatest power had never been her ability to wield multiple Divinities nor the rare gift of speaking to the living force they called Mana. Her true strength was far greater.
Rosalia's greatest power was how she healed people in ways they didn't realize they needed, the warmth that she made people feel.
Rosalia's greatest power was her kindness.
That was her gift.
Rosalia had always loved without hesitation, without condition and without asking for anything in return.
That was why she was his Miracle Girl.
It had never been about becoming as strong or as powerful as Rosalia Elarion. It had always been about becoming as kind-hearted as her—because she was not just a princess, she was an ideal to strive towards. A reminder of what they could be.
She cried, she bled, she suffered like all of them but still, she chose to do good.
That was what made her great to Lukas. That was why those who truly knew her would follow her to the ends of Hiraeth.
This time, her tears were not born from sorrow, but from joy.
The barrier between them softened, then dissolved entirely.
Rosalia leaned forward into Lukas' arms, and Lukas held her tightly as if he would never let her go.
The question of whether or not she could trust Lukas had been answered. And the answer was yes. Because Lukas loved her like a father would and that love was greater than any grief that Rosalia could ever feel.
Lukas whispered into her hair, steady and certain, "No matter what, I will keep you safe. I promise you that we will return to Easthaven. And when you do, it will be to take back the throne that is rightfully yours."