The first thing Lyra noticed when she opened her eyes was the unfamiliar ceiling. Wooden beams crossed above her, and the soft flicker of light suggested candles, not the harsh bulbs of her world. She groaned, shifting on the bed, her body heavy and stiff. Her head spun as she tried to recall what had happened. The poison. The shadow assassins. Zarekth.Zarekth?!Panic swelled in her and she sat up in bed, wincing as a sharp pain coursed through her arm. Her gaze flitted around the room, expecting to be alone, abandoned. But then, in the dim corner of the room, she saw him. Zarekth stood with his back to the wall, arms crossed, his silver eyes catching the low light.His presence filled the space as though he'd been there the whole time, just waiting."You're finally awake," he said, his voice even. "Good."Lyra blinked, her mind racing to catch up with everything. "How...how much time has gone by since I've been out?" Her voice was raspy, hardly audible above a whisper.“Seven cy

The mist of the morning hung in the air, lazily swirling among the ancient trees of the Eternal Grove as the village of Sylvaen began to stir, accompanied by the gentle hum of life gradually permeating the crisp atmosphere. Even though the villagers were familiar with the forest's whispers, they detected an unsettling presence creeping through the grove—a faint dissonance that tainted the typically peaceful beauty of their environment.A sense of foreboding loomed. The crops wilted at an accelerated pace, animals grew restless in their enclosures, and the elders exchanged hushed conversations about the escalating disturbances near the Heartwood tree. Amidst this atmosphere, Zarekth stood in the clearing, gazing pensively into the depths of the woods with a troubled expression.His silver eyes glowed faintly, scanning the trees as if they held some hidden secret, some invisible threat that danced just beyond his reach.But there was something about Zarekth today—something different.

The morning in Sylvaen was still, as if the village itself knew this was a day of farewells. The soft rustle of leaves and the faint hum of life in the forest were the only sounds as Lyra packed the final items into her bag. Viana had given it to her, filled with all the essentials—herbs, food, and clothing, all carefully packed with an unspoken message: You’ll need these where you’re going. Lyra’s fingers brushed over the fabric, gratitude welling inside her. This village, nestled deep in the ancient woods, had offered her more than shelter—it had given her a sense of community, a place to breathe and find her strength again. But their time here had come to an end.Zarekth stood at the heart of the village, his gaze fixed on the towering heartwood tree. Its ancient, gnarled roots twisted beneath the earth, drawing from an age-old power that pulsed in harmony with the land itself. He placed his palm on the trunk, closing his eyes. Words, both silent and potent, slipped from his l

The group rested beneath the canopy of stars, the firelight flickering low as the chill of the night settled in. Lyra and Viana had drifted into peaceful sleep, their figures wrapped snugly in soft, woven cloaks that bore the craftsmanship of Sylvaen’s villagers. The faint sounds of their steady breathing blended with the crackle of the dying embers and the occasional rustle of leaves stirred by the cool wind.Zarekth, seated a few paces away from the campfire, allowed himself to close his eyes. Just for a moment.He rarely afforded himself this luxury, knowing how vulnerable it made him. But tonight, weariness lingered at the edges of his thoughts, pressing down with a weight even he couldn’t ignore. His eyelids drooped, and in the obscurity behind them, remnants of something long concealed began to awaken. A whisper—initially faint and indistinct—intricately wove its way into his consciousness, gradually increasing in volume with each fleeting second.The words were foreign, sh

The forest was alive with the murmurs of dusk—leaves rustling in the breeze, branches creaking under the weight of night-dwelling creatures, and distant howls echoing in the cool air. Lyra crouched low behind a jagged stone, her fingers tightening around the smooth wooden shaft of a borrowed bow. Viana knelt beside her, whispering instructions that only half-registered in Lyra’s buzzing mind.“Steady your hands, keep your eyes on the target,” Viana murmured, pointing toward their prey—a deer grazing in a moonlit clearing not far ahead. Its ears twitched as if sensing danger, though it continued its meal, oblivious to the two figures hidden among the shadows.Lyra exhaled deeply, feeling her heartbeat resonate loudly as she pulled the string back. Her muscles quivered under the unfamiliar strain, yet her anticipation overshadowed any physical discomfort. Peering intensely along the arrow's path, she observed her breath forming mist in the crisp air. Her focus narrowed to a singular