Higher Plain Ch 29: The Falling Body, Enter The Next Xylarion!

We worked the field all morning—and then into the afternoon. To my surprise, Faylina didn't stop. Not once. She kept growing and shrinking a

We worked the field all morning—and then into the afternoon.

To my surprise, Faylina didn't stop. Not once. She kept growing and shrinking as needed, making it easier to reach different parts of the land without leaving craters the size of my house in the soft dirt. When she needed to be precise, she'd return to her regular size, sleeves rolled, hair pulled back tight, sweat lining her brow like any seasoned farmhand. When the heavy work came—hauling broken tree stumps from the field, or dragging deep water channels through the rocky bits—she'd rise back up, her massive form doing in seconds what would take me hours.

It was... honestly incredible.

We didn't talk much at first. There was just the sound of work—the scrape of my Groatspade, the whoosh of her colossal finger carving rows, the rustle of trees shifting as she stepped carefully around them. For a while, it was just enough being there together. The rhythm of work. The healing kind.

As the sun climbed higher, I wiped the sweat from my brow with the back of my arm and paused to take it all in.

The field—once a mess of torn roots, broken irrigation lines, and gnarled earth—was beginning to look like something again. Like a future. Like a place that might grow something worthwhile.

I let out a soft whistle. "Well, would you look at that..."

Faylina, back at her full size, was crouched at the far end of the field. She was using a sharpened stick—well, more like a tree trunk, in her hand—to tamp down the far rows. Her movements were slow and thoughtful. She'd gotten the hang of it faster than I expected.

And then I heard it.

A long, low, unmistakable sound that came from the sky itself.

Grrgrrrrrrrowl.

I blinked and turned my head toward her. She froze, eyes wide.

Her hand shot to her stomach.

I didn't say anything at first. Honestly, I tried not to laugh. She looked mortified.

"...Was that a landslide or your stomach?" I called out with a grin.

She glared at me from high above, cheeks blooming red. "I didn't eat breakfast," she said in a mutter that still echoed across the field like distant thunder.

I couldn't help it—I chuckled. "No judgment. I've been guilty of skipping a few meals myself."

I stepped a little closer—carefully. Her size still made my heart thump in my chest, but the fear had turned into something else. Familiarity, maybe. Comfort, even.

And then I caught sight of the tear in her tunic.

The entire left seam had split, and the fabric was bunched awkwardly at her hip. It rode high—too high—and with her crouched like that, I had a clear view of... well.

I immediately looked away.

Heat rushed to my cheeks, and I rubbed the back of my neck like an idiot, trying to pretend I hadn't seen anything. "Uh—so, uh, you might want to... um... maybe shrink down? Y'know. For modesty reasons. Not that I'm staring! I'm not! I swear."

She blinked down at me, confused at first—then followed my awkward glance.

"Oh gods—!" Her hand flew to her side and she quickly shrank back down to her normal size, her cheeks going nearly as red as the apples in the eastern orchard. "Why didn't you say anything sooner?!"

I shrugged with a crooked smile. "I was trying to be polite. And also a little terrified you might smite me."

She laughed—a real one this time, soft and breathy and a little embarrassed. "You're ridiculous."

"Says the mountain-sized girl who made crop rows with her finger."

We both stood there a moment in the cooling air, the sun starting its slow descent toward the western hills. The field around us looked nearly complete—rows tidy, earth even, irrigation lines waiting to be re-laid.

I looked at her and smiled.

"You hungry?"

She raised a brow. "Obviously."

I motioned toward the house. "Let's head inside. I think we've earned something warm."

She nodded, brushing dust from her skirt. "I'll make myself small again."

"Thank you," I said with mock seriousness. "My sanity and the roof of my kitchen appreciate it."

She giggled, and that made me grin a little more.

It was hard to believe this was the same woman who had stormed down from the sky and turned my life upside down.

But here she was.

Working beside me. Laughing. Growing... in more ways than one.

And for the first time in a long time, the future didn't feel so uncertain.

It just felt... good.

***

The kingdom of Lornesse was small and young—just over fifty years old, its banners still vibrant with fresh dyes, its marble courtyards clean from the wear of time. Nestled in the eastern valleys between jagged cliffs and ancient forests, it had always kept to itself. But peace can sour when ambition festers.

King Veldran paced within the marble halls of his war chamber, a modest room with a long table and carved wooden chairs that still carried the scent of the forest they'd been cut from. Scrolls were scattered across the table—maps, reports, hand-drawn illustrations of broken walls and scorched banners. At the center, a single name was scrawled in thick, bold ink: Valtheron.

Veldran tapped a ringed finger against the table and looked at his gathered council—young, loyal, eager to prove themselves.

"It's gone," he said, voice rich with awe and hunger. "Valtheron. A city carved into the cliffs, known for standing against centuries of war and storm... reduced to rubble in a single day."

The council murmured among themselves. Some whispered of gods, others of curses. But Veldran only saw one thing: opportunity.

"If their walls fell, so can their claim to that land. No ruler. No heirs. No defenses. The eastern border lies open, ripe for annexation."

He leaned forward, placing both hands flat on the table.

"Lornesse will not remain small. Not while I breathe."

The chamber erupted with cautious cheers. Plans were being drawn up already—supply chains, troop deployments, a banner to fly over the broken city's ruins. The air in the room buzzed with purpose.

But that's when the wind shifted.

It began with a tremble in the glass windows, then a low groan as the wood of the ancient beams creaked in protest. The torches along the stone walls flickered violently—then snuffed out one by one.

A courtier rushed in, cloak flapping. "Your Majesty! The sky—it's gone black!"

Veldran turned sharply and strode to the balcony. Others followed. The view, once sunlit and serene, was now devoured by a roiling mass of dark clouds that twisted unnaturally fast above the valley. Lightning cracked in white veins across the heavens, though no thunder followed.

The wind screamed.

From all across the kingdom—from villages, temples, towers—people emerged and looked upward.

"What is that?" a farmer asked, shielding his eyes.

"Is it falling?" a mother whispered as she held her child close.

"It's not a bird. Not a star."

"No wings..."

And then—

Impact.

The world shattered.

There was no time to scream. No time to run. No time to pray. The very air seemed to vanish as something incomprehensibly massive, warm, and flesh-colored plummeted from the heavens like a divine meteor.

A body.

Female, covered in silver armor, impossibly vast.

She struck just beyond the capital walls—though "beyond" was relative. Her arrival was not so much an event as a catastrophe. Her thighs alone crushed forests. Her hips flattened hills. The sheer pressure of her landing sent waves of earth rolling outward like ripples on a pond, but made of stone and death. Buildings exploded from the shock. Roads crumbled. People became dust.

The proud banners of Lornesse were torn from their posts and swallowed into the wind.

From far above, where clouds now clung to her calves like mist to a mountain, Kaelira lowered her gaze. Her eyes, glowing faintly with power, studied the landscape below with a calm detachment, unaware—or perhaps uncaring—of the destruction beneath her knees.

To her, it was nothing but soft terrain. Another patch of land on her journey.

"Princess..." she murmured, her voice like thunder rolling over oceans. "I'm coming."

Her bare feet shifted, grinding the ruined kingdom deeper into the soil as she began to walk westward—each step shaking the earth, carrying with it the force of an unstoppable will.

The last remnants of Lornesse vanished beneath her towering shadow.

And Kaelira, tall as the sky itself, never once looked down.