The air was cool and crisp as Lexa led you through the quiet corridors of Polis. The city was settled for the night, the low murmur of distant voices fading into the background like a gentle tide. Tonight, she had chosen to share with them something precious, something she rarely revealed even to her closest advisors.

They reached the Commander’s temple, a sacred place carved deep into the mountain stone. Flickering torchlight cast tall shadows on the walls, illuminating the ancient symbols painted and etched there, stories of war, survival, and unity.

Lexa: “These marks tell the story of Trikru.” Lexa traced her fingers lightly over the worn carvings. she said softly. Lexa’s voice dropped to a more intimate tone.

Lexa: “Each mark, each symbol… it carries meaning. The spear means strength. The raven means guidance. And this.” she pointed to a delicate spiral. “means the bond between warriors. Between souls.”

Her hand found yours, and she held it firmly.

Lexa:“I share this with you because you are not just an outsider. You are part of my world. Part of me.”