Cosmic Lord: The Error Awakens
Chapter 136: Rhea’s Burden

Chapter 136: Rhea’s Burden

Rhea stood in the shadow of the valley’s main keep, its bone walls dusted with fresh snow, the late morning light casting a soft glow over the western valley. The air was crisp, carrying the scent of woodsmoke and damp earth, as survivors and Kin bustled through the central square—hauling grain, mending tents, and tending fires. Kael was gone, leading his team toward the southern ruin, and the weight of his absence settled on her shoulders like a heavy cloak. Her flames flickered faintly at her fingertips, a quiet comfort, but her heart churned with doubt. She wore no armor, only a thick woven tunic, her auburn hair loose, catching the wind. Kael’s love anchored her, Lyra’s fire lingered in her memory, but the valley’s fragile unity tested her resolve. She brushed a hand over the ground, feeling the faint pulse of Kael’s golden veins, their warmth a distant echo of his EX: Gold Dominion, steadying her.

Day 129, late morning. The valley breathes—my heart falters. Her green eyes scanned the square, resolve a flickering ember despite the strain—hundreds lost, Kael far, the valley’s hearths her charge. My home’s hope—thousands strong, lands enduring—but trust tests hope. The Nexus was gone, a ghost buried, but her blood murmured: Rhea, you hold. She squared her shoulders, the crowd’s hum grounding her. Hold? I lead.

Rhea’s role was clear: keep the valley strong while Kael sought the ruin’s truth. No lords threatened, no storms loomed; the challenge was within—a growing rift between Kin and survivors, sparked by whispers of favoritism. A Kin weaver, Koryn, had accused Rhea of prioritizing survivors’ needs—grain for their families, wood for their tents—while Kin workers toiled longer in the forges. The accusation stung, threatening the unity Kael had forged with Mara’s Kin. Heart falters. Her blood stirred, heavy with a new truth: You are the valley’s keeper. She closed her eyes, seeking Kael’s strength—vision: the valley, keeps glowing, Kin and survivors sharing bread, voices united: Rhea, your heart binds us. Her blood warmed, the square steady—binds? Mara approached, her cloak loose, eyes sharp but weary. "Rhea, Koryn’s words spread—Kin murmur, survivors snap back. You’re not Kael. Fix this, or it fractures." Her voice was firm, eyes on the crowd—doubt lingered.

Rhea’s frown softened, meeting Mara’s gaze. "Fracture? I’m no storm, Mara—but I’ll hold us." But Koryn’s anger burned—am I failing? Thora trudged up, hammer slung, gold dust faint in her braid. "Hold? You’re fire, Rhea—Koryn’s loud, but she’s hurting. Forges run hot, stores grow, but hearts are cold. Speak to her, not above." Her voice was warm, eyes on Rhea—hope burned.

Drayce joined them, glaive sheathed, militia scattered through the square—950 elite now, thousands working, their hands busy but tense. "Militia’s gold—Kin and survivors, side by side, but whispers cut deep. Koryn’s got a following. Lead like Kael, Rhea—face her." His voice held fire, trust steady—Kael’s shadow lingered.

Rhea’s jaw tightened, flames flickering—vision: the square, Kin and survivors arguing, a fire dimming, her voice rising. She nodded, voice low. "Face her? I’ll listen first. Mara, gather the weavers. Thora, ready the hall. Drayce, keep the militia calm—we talk, not fight." Her blood stirred, flames flaring faintly—golden veins pulsed through the square, warming the air, the crowd pausing, eyes on her.

The square buzzed as Rhea moved toward the weaving hall, a sturdy structure of bone and wood, its looms silent today. Koryn stood outside, her dark hair tied tight, arms crossed, a crowd of Kin weavers behind her—ten, maybe twelve, their faces hard. Survivors watched from a distance, their murmurs sharp. Rhea stopped, hands open, voice steady. "Koryn, you’re angry—speak. I’m here." Her flames dimmed, inviting trust—listen, don’t lead.

Koryn’s eyes narrowed, voice sharp. "Here? You give survivors grain, tents, rest—Kin work till our hands bleed. You’re Kael’s flame, not our lord. Why favor them?" The Kin nodded, their grumbles rising. Survivors bristled, a young farmer, Tila, stepping forward. "Favor? We starve too, Koryn—Rhea’s fair!" The square tensed, voices clashing.

Mara moved to Rhea’s side, voice low. "Rhea, they’re both right—stores are thin, work’s uneven. Koryn’s pride’s wounded, Tila’s scared. Balance it, or it breaks." Her caution sharpened—trust wavered.

Thora’s hammer tapped the ground, voice bold. "Break? Rhea’s fire—Koryn, you weave gold, Tila, you sow life. Talk, don’t shout. Rhea, lead ’em." Her hope roared—trust held.

Rhea’s flames flared, voice firm but warm. "Enough—Kin, survivors, you’re one valley. Koryn, your hands build us. Tila, your fields feed us. I hear you—let’s fix it, together." Her blood stirred, golden veins pulsing—Kin and survivors paused, eyes flickering with hope.

Koryn hesitated, then spoke, voice softer. "Together? My kin work double shifts—survivors get first grain. We’re equal, or we’re not." Tila nodded, voice trembling. "Equal? My brother’s sick—grain’s all we have. Rhea, you see us, don’t you?" The crowd murmured, torn but listening.

Rhea’s heart clenched—vision: the valley, keeps dim, Kin and survivors divided, her flames fading. She stepped forward, voice clear. "I see you—both. Koryn, survivors work fields, not forges—your shifts are heavy, I know. Tila, Kin haul wood, not grain—your hunger’s real. We’re short, but we’re one. Name your terms." Her flames steadied—bind, don’t break.

Koryn’s shoulders eased, voice low. "Shorter shifts—Kin get equal grain, no less. We’ll weave, but not bleed." Tila spoke, eyes wet. "Grain for all—sick first, Kin or survivor. We’ll sow, but not starve." The crowd nodded, murmurs softening.

Mara’s eyes softened, voice low. "Rhea, they’re meeting—guide it. Kael’s not here, but you are." Her trust stirred—hope glowed.

Drayce grinned, voice gruff. "Guide? Militia’s ready—Kin and survivors, gold in ’em. You’re Kael’s heart, Rhea—seal it." His trust steadied—crew held.

Rhea’s flames flared, voice bold. "Terms heard—equal grain, shorter shifts, sick first. Weavers, farmers, militia—meet me in the hall, now. We plan as one." Her blood roared, golden veins pulsing—the square warmed, Kin and survivors nodding, moving together.

The weaving hall hummed as Rhea led the group inside, looms still but voices alive. Koryn and Tila sat across from each other, flanked by weavers and farmers, Mara and Thora nearby, Drayce at the door. Rhea stood, hands on a loom, voice steady. "We’re short—grain, wood, time. Koryn, your Kin know forges—can you craft tools for the fields?" Koryn nodded, eyes sharp. "We can—lighter plows, stronger sickles. Give us wood, equal shares." Rhea turned to Tila. "Survivors know soil—can you plant a new field, share the yield?" Tila smiled, voice firm. "We will—Kin help us dig, we’ll split the grain." The hall buzzed, agreement growing.

Thora’s laugh boomed, hammer tapping a loom. "Split? That’s iron, Rhea—Kin and survivors, forging one valley. Keep it hot." Her hope roared—trust held.

Mara nodded, voice calm. "One valley—Koryn, Tila, you’re its heart. Rhea, you’ve done what Kael couldn’t—listened." Her trust deepened—hope glowed.

Rhea’s flames flickered, heart easing—vision: the valley, keeps bright, Kin and survivors working, her flames steady. She sat, voice soft. "Not me—us. Koryn, Tila, lead your people. Mara, track the stores. Thora, build the tools. Drayce, mix the militia—Kin and survivors, equal drills." Her blood warmed, golden veins pulsing—the hall glowed, voices rising.

The afternoon waned, the hall alive with plans—Kin sketching plow designs, survivors mapping fields, militia sharing cloaks. Rhea stepped outside, snow falling lightly, the square quieter now, Kin and survivors working side by side. Koryn approached, offering a woven cord, golden threads glinting. "For you, Rhea—not lord, but kin. We’re one." Rhea tied it to her wrist, blood stirring—new bond.

Tila followed, holding a small sack of grain. "For the sick, Rhea—you saw us. Thank you." Her eyes shone—Rhea took the sack, heart full—new trust.

The evening settled, the valley glowing with firelight, keeps warm, voices soft but united. Rhea stood by the keep, flames steady, Mara and Thora nearby, Drayce rallying the militia. The square hummed—Kin and survivors planning, not arguing, their hands busy with hope. Rhea’s heart lifted—Kael, we’re holding. She closed her eyes, feeling his golden veins, faint but strong—you seek, I bind.

Mara’s hand rested on her shoulder, voice low. "Rhea, you’re the valley’s fire—Kael’s lucky. We’re yours." Her trust burned—hope held.

Thora grinned, hammer slung. "Fire? You’re gold, Rhea—valley’s one, stores grow. Kael’s got work to match you." Her hope roared—trust held.

Drayce approached, voice gruff. "Match? Militia’s 11,000—Kin and survivors, gold in their hearts. You’re their spark, Rhea—burn on." His trust steadied—crew held.

Rhea’s smile was faint, flames warm, standing in the snow—cost repaid. She faced the square, voice a soft hum. "Valley’s ours, Kael’s seeking—game shifts. Speak."

Mara’s voice was firm. "You’ve bound us, Rhea—keep listening. We’re stronger." Her hand tightened—trust burned.

Thora’s laugh was soft. "Stronger? You’re the hearth, Rhea—valley’s alive. Lead on." Her voice steadied—trust echoed.

Rhea’s flames flared, heart steady—new valley. She turned to the square, feeling Kael’s absence but not his shadow. "Mara, watch the stores—Thora, forge the tools—Drayce, rally ’em—Koryn, Tila, keep planning."

The night deepened, fires glowing as keeps stood—fields mapped, gold trickling, unity strong. Rhea stood by the keep, Koryn’s cord heavy—hundreds lost, Kael’s love heavier. The valley worked—alive, shadow gone, Kin and survivors one, their voices a hum. The Nexus was silent, buried in ash—unseen, vanquished.

Rhea touched the cord, flames clear, pulse warm—whispering: Heart binds... A memory stirred—Kael’s grin, fierce and sure. She looked to the south, snow falling, heart set. "You seek, I hold—we’re one."

The valley glowed, golden veins faint, the keeps warm—Rhea’s valley kindled anew, its heart forged in her quiet strength.

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