40 - Tierra

The road had narrowed to stone and shadow by the time Luna reached the foot of the mountain.

All along the winding path, the crowd of travelers thickened—merchants with heavy wagons creaking beneath barrels of ore and timber, knights in gleaming armor guiding their steeds, and cloaked wanderers with faces hidden beneath hoods.

The road was alive with chatter and the soft clang of metal against metal, echoing off the high cliffs that framed the entrance to the Kingdom of Tierra.

And there, carved directly into the mountain’s face, stood the Great Gates of Tierra.

They rose higher than any wall Luna had ever seen, forged of blackened steel and framed by dwarven runes that glowed faintly gold in the sunlight.

The symbols shimmered like breathing light, pulsing in quiet rhythm—as though the mountain itself had a heartbeat.

Luna stopped several paces away, her satchel slung across her shoulder, her wide eyes tracing the intricate engravings that climbed the gates like vines of molten gold. The sheer magnitude of it all left her a little breathless.

“Whoa…” she whispered, her voice barely carried by the wind. “So this is Tierra…”

Excitement and awe filled her chest—until another feeling quickly followed.

Trouble.

She looked down at the small leather pouch in her hands. Inside was her identification card, stamped with the Terra family crest, a mountain crowned by a shield. Her grandfather’s emblem. Her adopted family’s name.

And, right now, her biggest problem.

Her thumb brushed over the etched mountain symbol. For a moment, pride flickered there—she’d always liked the design, how strong and elegant it looked—but that pride was swiftly replaced by unease.

“What if I cause a ruckus?” she murmured under her breath.

She had thought about this all the way from Baron Eldwin’s territory.

The card was proof of her identity, yes, but it also shouted who she was—the daughter of Duchess Valerie Terra, and worse, the granddaughter of Duke-Emeritus William Terra, the man hailed as the strongest level-eight.

Even if Luna had no intention of flaunting her lineage, her card did it for her.

And what if the Kingdom of Tierra wasn’t on good terms with the Empire?

Baron Eldwin had described Tierra as an independent and proud nation of craftsmen—dwarves who valued their autonomy and guarded their borders carefully.

Sarah had said that Tierra traded frequently with the Empire, but trade and trust weren’t always the same thing.

Luna’s brow furrowed as she shuffled forward in line.

“What if they see the card and think I’m a spy? Or—worse—they try to contact my family?” she whispered to herself, imagining her adopted mother’s scolding voice echoing all the way from the capital. “Oh, she’d drag me home by the ear.”

The thought made her wince.

The queue moved again.

Luna glanced toward the guards posted at the gate. They were human—three of them, all clad in light armor trimmed with brass and bearing the insignia of Tierra’s royal army.

Their expressions were stern but not unfriendly. They spoke with the travelers ahead of her in turn, checking papers, marking ledgers, and waving each through.

Her heartbeat quickened as her turn drew near.

She could just… sneak in.

The idea flitted into her mind, a mischievous spark lighting her eyes. Her mist magic would make it easy—turn herself into a veil of vapor, slip past unnoticed, and find her way inside without showing any identification. It would be so simple.

But then she remembered Baron Eldwin’s patient voice, calm and fatherly,

“Luna, a person’s choices show more of their heart than their power ever will.”

Her shoulders drooped. “Right… and sneaking in counts as illegal entry.”

She could already imagine the paperwork nightmare that would cause if someone caught her—and if they later discovered her family name attached to it?

The thought made her stomach twist. The Empire’s Duchess’s daughter smuggling herself into another kingdom? The scandal alone would be enough to shake half the continent.

“Nope. Bad idea. No mist magic,” she decided firmly, puffing out her cheeks. “I’ll just… use the card and try not to make a scene. Maybe bribe the guards a little? People like money, right?”

It wasn’t exactly a brilliant plan, but it was a plan.

When the traveler ahead of her finally stepped away, Luna found herself standing before the three guards.

The closest of them—a broad-shouldered man with a neatly trimmed beard and kind eyes—looked down at her with mild surprise.

“Well now,” he said, crouching slightly so their eyes met. “Traveling alone, little one?”

Luna forced a smile, though it wobbled a bit. “Mm-hmm! I’m, um… on a journey.”

His brows lifted. “That so? How brave of you.” He extended a gloved hand. “May I see your identification card?”

Her pulse quickened. She hesitated a beat too long before slipping the card from her pouch and holding it out carefully.

As his fingers brushed the edge of the card, Luna leaned forward and whispered, “Um… could you please keep my identity a secret?”

The guard blinked, clearly not expecting that. “Your… identity?”

“Please,” Luna said earnestly, clutching her hands together. “Just don’t tell anyone, okay?”

He stared for a moment—then smiled indulgently, assuming it was a child’s game. “All right, all right. I promise, little miss.”

“Thank you!” she said, relief flooding her face.

The guard chuckled, amused, and looked down at the card.

And froze.

For a long moment, he simply stared. His eyes widened as if he’d just been handed a piece of divine revelation.

The name engraved gleamed clearly, Luna Terra.

He blinked once. Twice. His mouth opened slightly, but no sound came out.

In his mind, a dozen rumors and reports he’d heard over the past weeks rushed together at once—the tales of a prodigious young mage from the Empire, a child said to have inherited the terrifying power of her grandfather, the “Empire’s Shield,” Duke William Terra.

And now that very same name was on the identification card of a small, bright-eyed girl standing right in front of him, smiling like she hadn’t a care in the world.

The guard’s fingers stiffened around the card.

“Uh… sir?” one of his comrades asked, noticing the sudden stillness. “You all right?”

He didn’t answer. His eyes were locked on the emblem—the mountain crowned by a shield.

It was unmistakable. The Terra family crest, etched with imperial craftsmanship that no forger could ever replicate.

“Is something wrong?” Luna asked innocently, tilting her head.

That small, curious voice snapped him out of his trance—at least partially. He forced his body to move, though it felt like stone.

“No, no,” he said quickly, his tone a touch too high. “N-Nothing’s wrong.”

But the other two guards, curious now, stepped closer.

“What’s the hold-up?” the second one asked, a red-haired man with a crooked grin. “It’s just a kid—”

Then his gaze dropped to the card. The grin vanished instantly.

“By the Forge…” he breathed.

The third guard leaned in too, peering over his shoulder. The moment his eyes caught the letters and the crest, his jaw slackened.

“Terra?” he whispered. “That Terra?”

Luna blinked between them, bemused by their reactions. “Um… yes? Is something wrong with my card?”

The first guard barely managed to shake his head. “N-no, ma’am. Not at all.”

Ma’am.

That single word made Luna blink in surprise.

The red-haired guard started to bend his knee, instinctively moving into a half-bow—but the first guard, regaining control of his body, reached out and caught him by the shoulder, forcing him upright.

“Don’t,” he muttered under his breath. “She asked for secrecy.”

The second guard’s eyes darted between his friend and the girl, realizing what that meant. His throat bobbed as he swallowed hard and nodded.

Luna tilted her head again. “Um… are you okay?”

The first guard straightened, clearing his throat. “Perfectly fine, Lady Luna.” His tone had shifted—still polite, but edged with something like reverence, careful and deliberate. “Welcome to the Kingdom of Tierra.”

He handed the identification card back to her with both hands, as though presenting a royal decree.

Luna took it, beaming. “Thank you!”

The guards stood frozen for a heartbeat longer as she passed between them, stepping through the gates with light, carefree steps.

None of them dared to breathe until she was gone.

Only then did the red-haired guard exhale in a rush. “You saw that, right? That was her.”

The first guard nodded slowly, eyes still fixed on the spot where the little girl had stood moments ago. “The Duchess’s heir. The granddaughter of the Empire Shield himself.”

“And she asked us to keep it secret,” murmured the third. “But we still have to file the entry report… the captain will see her name.”

The first guard’s jaw tightened, though his voice remained calm. “Indeed. We’ll report it properly—protocol’s protocol. But there’s no need to spread it further than that.”

He glanced at his comrades, lowering his voice. “We’ll tell the captain in private, and no one else. No gossip, no whispers. The young lady trusted us enough to ask for silence—we’ll respect that much.”

The others exchanged looks, then nodded. It was the best balance they could strike between duty and discretion. Some names, after all, carried a weight that demanded both.

And Terra was one of them.

Meanwhile, Luna walked on, blissfully unaware of the quiet panic she’d left behind.

The first thing that struck Luna inside Tierra’s gates was the light—soft and golden, yet somehow brighter than the morning sun outside. The kingdom wasn’t dark or cavernous like she’d imagined. It glowed.

Luminous crystals lined the walls and ceilings, their gentle radiance casting warmth across the stone streets. Streams of molten light ran through carved channels in the ground, carrying both energy and beauty through the city like veins of gold.

And above it all, the great mountain walls soared, polished smooth by centuries of dwarven craftsmanship.

Luna’s mouth fell open in awe.

“It’s like a whole world inside a mountain…” she whispered.

Her heart swelled with excitement, her earlier worries momentarily forgotten. She clutched her satchel, took a deep breath, and grinned.

“Alright, Tierra,” she said softly, her voice full of anticipation. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”

And with that, she stepped deeper into the kingdom, her small figure soon swallowed by the bustling streets—leaving behind three speechless guards still wondering if they’d just greeted a living legend.

The scent reached her before she even saw the stall.

It drifted on the warm air that wound through the cavernous streets—a smoky, mouthwatering aroma that curled around Luna like an invisible ribbon. She stopped mid-step, nose twitching.

Her stomach gave a small, traitorous growl.

“What is that smell?” she murmured, sniffing again as her eyes darted toward the direction of the aroma.

Somewhere beyond the steady rhythm of dwarven hammers and the murmur of voices, the air shimmered with the unmistakable perfume of grilled meat and spice.

She followed it.

The path took her past bustling rows of merchants and travelers—dwarves in aprons dusted with soot and metal flakes, elves wrapped in traders’ cloaks, and humans leading small carts laden with glittering gemstones or finely forged tools.

Voices mingled in a dozen accents, a symphony of business and barter. But Luna hardly noticed any of it.

Her attention was fixed entirely on that smell.

It drew her like a spell—smoky, savory, a hint of herbs and caramelized fat. Her feet moved faster, her pace bouncing with anticipation.

When she rounded the corner, she finally saw the source.

A squat wooden stall stood tucked between a smithy and a pottery shop, its roof half-covered in copper scales that gleamed in the lantern light.

Over an open grill, thick skewers of meat sizzled, fat dripping down onto glowing coals with soft hisses. The flames licked upward, painting the air in dancing orange hues.

Behind the grill stood a stout dwarven woman, her auburn hair braided tightly under a green headscarf, her arms strong and dusted with spice. She was humming to herself as she turned each skewer with practiced grace, the savory scent intensifying with every motion.

Luna stopped right in front of the stall, her eyes wide.

The dwarf glanced up and grinned when she saw her.

“Ah! There’s that look again,” she said, her voice warm and hearty. “I can spot hunger from ten paces away. You’ve caught a whiff, haven’t you, lass?”

Luna blinked, a little embarrassed, but her stomach betrayed her again with another growl. “Maybe…”

The dwarf laughed, the sound rich and bright. “Aye, that’s a yes if I’ve ever heard one! Come closer, then. Don’t just stand there starvin’ in the open. You’ll scare my other customers into thinkin’ I’m heartless!”

Luna giggled and stepped forward. “What is that you’re making? It smells amazing!”

“Ah, these beauties?” The dwarf twirled a skewer with a flourish. “Grak’s Fire Skewers. Dwarven delicacy! Fresh-cut mountain boar, marinated in amber spice and roasted slow over crystal coal. We dwarves pair it with our best ale, but—” she gave Luna a knowing look, “—I’m guessin’ you’re not the ale type.”

Luna wrinkled her nose. “I don’t think I’d like ale…”

“Good answer,” the dwarf said, laughing. “One skewer’ll fill that wee belly just fine. Want to try one?”

Luna’s eyes sparkled. “Yes, please!”

The dwarf pulled a skewer from the rack and placed it carefully on a clay plate. The meat glistened, its surface caramelized and glinting with golden oil.

Steam rose in delicate tendrils, carrying the smell of smoked herbs and sweetness. Luna accepted it reverently, her mouth already watering.

She took a tentative bite—

—and froze.

The flavors burst across her tongue in a chorus of warmth and spice. The meat was tender, smoky on the outside and juicy within, with a hint of something sweet and fiery at the same time. She blinked once, twice—then smiled so wide her cheeks hurt.

“It’s so good!” she exclaimed.

The dwarf threw her head back and laughed heartily. “Ha! I knew it! You’ve got good taste, little miss. You’d make a fine dwarf someday if you keep eatin’ like that.”

Luna laughed between bites, too busy savoring to answer right away.

The dwarf watched her fondly, arms crossed, a soft gleam in her eyes. “Not many humans know how to enjoy food proper,” she said, her voice gentler now. “But you—you’ve got that look of someone who’s travelin’ far. You taste the world when it’s in front of you.”

Luna paused and nodded shyly. “I’ve been traveling for a while,” she said. “I wanted to see what’s out there… learn about different places.”

The dwarf chuckled. “Then you’ve come to the right mountain, lass. Tierra’s full of stories, if you know where to listen.”

She leaned an elbow on the counter, her tone shifting into that of a storyteller easing into a tale. “You see this city? It’s been carved, rebuilt, and carved again for near five hundred years. Every stone you step on’s been shaped by a hammer at least once. The mountain remembers everything—our triumphs, our mistakes, our songs. Even our meals.”

Luna listened, captivated, her skewer halfway finished.

The dwarf pointed toward the distant street that curved upward into the heart of the city. “That way, you’ll find the jewelers’ row. Dwarven-made, of course. Silver filigree so fine it can fool an elf. And if you follow the copper banners, you’ll reach the smithing quarter—where most knights and adventurers order their blades.”

Luna’s lips curved into a knowing smile. “So it’s true then—your forges really are famous for a reason.”

The dwarf chuckled, pleased by her familiarity. “Aye, sounds like you’ve heard a bit about us already. And it’s no exaggeration. Knights, mercenaries, even a few noble houses send their commissions here. We forge blades that don’t break, armor that sings when struck. That’s Tierra’s pride.”

Luna leaned forward on the counter, eyes gleaming. “I can’t wait to see them for myself.”

The dwarf puffed her chest proudly before lowering her voice conspiratorially. “And just past the armory lane, you’ll find the sweet district. Little stalls run by apprentices and their grannies, sellin’ caramel nuts, honey-glazed fruits, and melt sugar that sticks to your teeth. Best to go early, though—sold out by dusk.”

Luna’s eyes shone like stars. “That sounds wonderful…”

The dwarf chuckled again, the sound like the rumble of distant thunder. “You’ve got spirit, lass. Reminds me of my own daughter when she first wandered off to see the world. Tell you what—since you listened so nicely, your next skewer’s on the house.”

Luna blinked in surprise. “Really? But I can pay—”

“Bah! Payment’s for customers. You’re a guest now,” the dwarf said, handing her another skewer with a wink.

Luna accepted it gratefully, bowing her head a little. “Thank you! You’re so kind.”

“Don’t thank me yet. Wait ‘til you’ve finished that one. Then we’ll see if you’re still standin’,” the dwarf teased.

Luna laughed, took another bite, and sighed in delight. “It’s perfect,” she murmured.

For a while, she stayed there at the stall, listening as the dwarf—who introduced herself as Grakha of Ember Row—told tales of Tierra’s deep halls and festivals.

She spoke of the “Forge Moon Feast,” where the mountain’s great forges burned blue for one night every year, and the people celebrated by lighting lanterns made of molten glass.

She told Luna about dwarven miners who claimed to hear the mountain hum when they struck true ore, and about the oldest blacksmith, who had forged the gates themselves and once laughed in the face of a dragon.

Luna listened with wide eyes and an eager heart, her imagination painting every word in fire and gold.

When her last skewer was gone, she thanked Grakha once more, her cheeks rosy with warmth and happiness.

“Come by again if you’re stayin’ long,” Grakha said, waving her off. “There’s more to Tierra than what the mountain shows first glance. And maybe next time, I’ll teach you how to make those skewers yourself.”

Luna’s eyes lit up. “Really?”

“Aye,” the dwarf said with a grin. “Just don’t tell anyone I shared the recipe. It’s older than the king’s beard.”

Luna laughed, promised she wouldn’t, and set off down the cobblestone street.

The rest of the day passed like a dream.

Tierra unfolded around her in layers—bustling markets, glowing halls, and spiraling walkways that wound higher into the mountain.

Everywhere she went, Luna found something to marvel at, rings of silver and gemstone displayed like miniature constellations, weapon racks lined with swords so finely crafted that they seemed to hum softly, mechanical trinkets that danced on their own when a lever was pulled.

She wandered from stall to stall, her satchel bouncing lightly at her side.

Most of the time, she only window shopped.

She admired the glittering wares—the embroidery on a dwarf maiden’s shawl, the exquisite carvings on a pipe, the shimmering runes etched onto a dagger’s hilt. But she never lingered too long.

Luna knew she didn’t need such things. Beautiful, yes—but she preferred things she could use or taste.

Still, she treated herself now and then. A cup of chilled berry juice. A paper cone filled with sugar-dusted nuts. Another skewer, because she couldn’t resist. And a few sweets from a stall shaped like a beehive, each candy gleaming like amber in the light.

She spent hours exploring, her curiosity never waning. Every corner of Tierra seemed to hold a new story, a new sound—the clang of forges, the rhythm of dwarven songs, the laughter of children echoing off stone.

By the time she reached a quiet plaza near the upper ring, the artificial sun-crystals dimmed slightly, marking evening’s approach.

Luna stopped before a tall fountain carved into the likeness of a hammer striking an anvil, its cascading water glowing faintly blue. She sat on its edge, watching the ripples shimmer, and felt a wave of contentment settle in her chest.

The city felt alive. Safe. Welcoming.

After a long while, she rose and made her way toward the inns she’d seen earlier.

The first few were full, but finally, she found a smaller one tucked between two crystal-lit stairways. A round wooden sign hung over the door, etched with a sleeping badger and the words, The Hearth Hollow Inn.

Inside, warmth enveloped her like a blanket.

The innkeeper—a cheerful dwarf woman with flour on her apron—welcomed her with a smile and showed her to a small but cozy room. The bed looked impossibly soft, the sheets smelling faintly of lavender.

Once the door closed behind her, Luna sighed, unbuckled her satchel, and stretched her arms wide.

Her body was pleasantly tired from walking, her heart full from the day’s discoveries.

She glanced at herself in the mirror—dust smudged on her cheeks, hair a bit tangled—and smiled wryly. “I look like I’ve been running around all day… because I have.”

With a flick of her fingers, water shimmered into existence around her.

A soft bubble of magic hovered in the air before cascading gently over her like a waterfall. The droplets glowed faintly blue, drying and cleaning her skin and hair without leaving a trace of dampness behind. Within moments, she felt fresh and warm again.

Her water magic always made her smile—it reminded her of simpler days, those first few weeks after she had arrived in this world, when everything was strange and wondrous.

She remembered the first time she’d learned to shape water, the thrill of watching droplets twist and spin at her command, and the mornings she’d spent playing with puddles she created just to see how the reflections danced.

Magic, to her, had always felt like a friend—fickle, playful, and full of life.

She climbed into the bed, sinking into its soft embrace.

For a while, she simply lay there, eyes half-closed, replaying the day in her mind—the gates, the guards’ kind smiles, Grakha’s laughter, the taste of fire skewers still lingering on her tongue.

Her lips curved into a soft smile. “Tierra is… amazing,” she whispered.

She thought about what she might do tomorrow. Visit the jewelers’ row, maybe. Or see the forges Grakha mentioned. Maybe even try one of those molten-glass lanterns if she could find them.

The thought made her heart flutter with anticipation.

For the first time in a while, Luna felt completely at ease.

A traveler, seeing the world one bite, one story, one smile at a time.

Her eyelids grew heavy. The soft hum of Tierra’s inner forges echoed faintly through the stone walls, like a lullaby from the mountain itself.

Within minutes, Luna drifted into sleep, dreaming of firelit skewers, glittering gems, and the laughter of dwarves under the glowing heart of the mountain.