Ymir's Necklace: The Secret You Hold | Book I | Levi x Reader

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YOUR POV

The mornings held a quiet so profound, one could almost believe in a world untouched by war. The sound of birds outside the tent signaled the start of another day, and the smell of stew cooking somewhere reminded you it was Tuesday.

You woke not in your bed but on the floor, greeted by a now familiar ache in your back.

Not this again.

The first time it had happened, Jelena had found you. Her face was a mask of horror as she shook you awake, your name a desperate plea on her lips. The confusion of that night never fully dissipated; you had been sleepwalking through the camp, your voice lifting in song as you wandered, as if your dreams were escaping into the night air.

It had become a part of you, this strange nocturnal ritual, leaving you to wake in places you didn't remember lying down in. Like now, on the cold ground of your tent.

Rising, you pushed hair from your eyes, the weight of sleep still clinging to your eyelids. You dressed quickly, the Liberio morning biting at your skin. You took your paintbrushes and paper and stepped out, seeking solace in the routine of your day.

By the river, the landscape unfolded, serene and indifferent to the turmoil that had swept through your life and the lives of those around you. Painting there, you found a momentary peace, a reprieve from the whispers of Jeagerists and resistance, from fears of a future as yet undecided.

Liberio was healing, slowly stitching itself back together through the efforts of its people. This community, resilient and tightly knit, faced the threat of those rumors, those whispers of unrest, with a determined grace. But the fear of loss, of suffering, it was a shadow that lingered, an unspoken dread among the beauty of this rebirth.

You decided, enough of solitude for now. The river, with its ceaseless flow, offered one last moment of calm before you returned to the world.

The pendant at your neck, a constant companion, caught the light. Its origin, its purpose, remained a mystery, much like the path your life had taken. "Where did you come from?" you whispered, though no answer had ever come. This small piece of the past, tied so closely to your heart, remained silent.

Lunchtime called you back, the bells ringing out across the camp, and you gathered your things. There was a brief pause, a final look at the river, a connection to something timeless and unspoken.