The Matriarch's Daughter

Chapter Fifteen: Gamma's Destress

Thepa walked back to her room in the military barracks in silence. The night stretched around her, cool with the evening dew pressing down on her. When she left the tavern, most of the lanterns had burned out, their dying embers smothered in wax pools. The last remnants of light flickered from a lone candle, clinging to life, moments from drowning.

She glanced at the empty food carts lining the streets, their wooden frames bare where, just hours ago, they had overflowed with spices and fried noodles. The air still carried the faint whiffs of cumin and garlic, lingering beneath the sharper scents of damp stone and distant sea spray.

Thepa's hooves scuffed against the uneven cobblestones as she walked, her body moving instinctively while her mind churned.

"Find my hooves."

The words came unbidden, slipping from her lips in little more than a whisper. They barely reached the tips of her ears before dissolving into the night. It was the third time she had heard them in the past few weeks. Twice in dreams, but always the same, meant for her.

She stopped.

A shiver rippled down her spine, though whether from the night air or something deeper, she couldn't tell. Instinctively, she lifted a hoof, rolling her ankle, testing its weight. The rough texture met the cobblestone beneath her, firm and solid. She let it drop, the sharp clack echoing in the stillness.

Still there. Still hers.

But what was she supposed to be searching for?

Frowning, she lifted her leg higher, bending slightly at the knee. Her fingers traced the familiar curve of her hoof, brushing over the hardened surface, searching for something, but nothing came.

Thepa exhaled sharply. Who was she kidding? She didn't need to be a prophet to understand what Vivian and her dreams were telling her. The meaning was as clear as a cloudless sky.

It wasn't about finding her hooves.

They had never been lost. They were where they had always been. No, the message was about something else. It was about accepting that she wasn't where everyone thought she should be.

She clenched her jaw. "And where do I want to be?" she murmured into the night.

Thepa let the question hang there, expecting no answer.

"Leader of an Elite Strike Team?" she offered, her voice quieter this time.

Lately, it was the only thing that had brought her joy. Being with Claudia and Rory again felt right. It was both comforting and familiar, like something in her life had finally clicked back into place. But for every spark of happiness, there was an equal and opposite weight of frustration. The Archduke's relentless pressure to succeed. The Matriarch's assassination attempt. The team's indifference, better, though still cumbersome.

Thepa sighed, shifting her weight.

"Wildehaven?"

The name drifted, not even bouncing off the nearest wall. It seemed the easiest option. There she would have no more burdens, no responsibilities, no tangled mess of duty and destiny. Just peace.

But then what?

She didn't know what she would do in Wildehaven, let alone who she would do it with. Rory and Claudia would still be tied to the team. Einkidi would be off on her secret mission. She imagined herself there, standing alone, staring out at the southern sea, with nothing but time stretching before her.

A hollow, empty picture.

Her ears flicked back.

"The Beachwick?"