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2024-11-18 19:10:55The autumn chill wrapped itself around the Evervale campus, crisp and biting, as Lyra Donovan walked alongside her friends. Ivy’s laughter rang out in the cool air, echoing off the brick buildings that had stood the test of time. Though familiar, the atmosphere carried an energy, a charge, as if the start of their final year was heralding something new, something about to shift.
Clusters of students buzzed around them, engaged in animated conversations about summer adventures or already lamenting the workload ahead. Skateboarders zipped by, expertly dodging a group of wide-eyed first-years who huddled together, trying to make sense of the campus map clenched in their hands.
Lyra glanced sideways at Ivy and Harrison. Ivy’s arm was looped around his, her auburn hair bouncing with every step, while Harrison looked at her the way only someone madly in love could—like she was the center of his universe. They were that couple. The ones everyone admired, sometimes envied. High school sweethearts who had somehow managed to make it all work. Their affection was nauseating at times, but genuine. Lyra couldn’t help but be happy for them, even if she occasionally felt like the third wheel.
They walked as Ivy bumped her hip against Harrison’s, eliciting a soft laugh from him. Lyra rolled her eyes, amused but inwardly resigned. She’d known them both for so long, but moments like these often reminded her of how alone she felt sometimes, even among her closest friends.
Rhett sauntered behind, his attention absorbed by his phone. Lyra suspected he was checking stock prices or reading about some investment trend, given his penchant for business. He exuded a kind of effortless cool, his black leather jacket flaring out slightly as he moved, the Latin tattoo on his neck just visible. “Greatness from small beginnings.” A fitting motto for someone set to inherit a family empire, she mused. Unlike Harrison, whose academic future was grounded in the past with his love of history, Rhett’s path was already paved with wealth, whether he earned his degree or not.
The campus bell rang out, signaling the start of lectures, and the crowds began to thin as students hurried to their classes. Ivy turned to Harrison, her eyes bright with excitement.
“Do you believe we will make it through the year?” she inquired, partly in jest although there was unmistakable concern in the tone.
Lyra merely shrugged. “We’ve made it this far. What’s one more year?”
Rhett’s voice broke through the moment as he strode toward them. “We’re late enough as it is. Can’t you two move any faster?”
Ivy smirked, not missing a beat. “You’re the one who had to stop for coffee, remember?”
“Yeah, but I didn’t think we’d be crawling afterward,” Rhett shot back, his tone as dry as ever.
His eyes flicked over to Harrison, who was too wrapped up in Ivy to care about the jabs.
“Some of us have real work to do,” Rhett added, throwing a glance at Lyra. “Business doesn’t run itself.”
“Yeah, poor Rhett,” Ivy chimed in, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “Slumming it with us peasants while preparing to take over Daddy’s empire.”
Rhett rolled his eyes, though the corner of his mouth twitched with amusement. “Jealousy doesn’t suit you, Ivy.”
“Neither does humility, but I’m not holding my breath,” Lyra quipped, earning a snort from Ivy.
Harrison, ever the mediator, sighed dramatically. “Alright, enough. Don’t you all have classes to get to?”
Ivy leaned in closer to Harrison, her voice dropping to a teasing whisper. “Think you’ll survive without me?”
“Barely,” he replied, pulling her in for a quick kiss.
Lyra groaned, throwing her hands up in mock horror. “Gross. Can you two keep the PDA to a minimum when I’m around?”
Ivy grinned at her mischievously. “You’re just jealous.”
Lyra smirked, playing along. “Obviously.”
With a final parting kiss, Harrison broke away, adjusting his bag. His eyes gleamed with excitement. “Time to enlighten some minds,” he declared, already heading toward the history building with purpose in his step.
The rest of them groaned in unison. History had always been Harrison’s passion, and even though they had all signed up for the same class to humor him, none of them were particularly looking forward to it.
Rhett grumbled, “The only reason I’m in that class is to shut him up about ‘extra credit.’”
Harrison shot back a dimpled grin. “You’ll thank me later.”
“Highly unlikely,” Lyra muttered, but a small smile tugged at her lips.
Harrison disappeared into the crowd, Rhett veered off toward his business lecture with a wave, and Ivy darted away toward her tourism class, leaving Lyra to head to her sociology course alone.
She glanced down at her schedule.
Sociology 401.
Professor McBride.
Not exactly the class she was most excited about, but it was part of the program.
By the time Lyra reached the classroom, it was already bustling. She found a seat at the back, pulling out her notebook as Professor McBride, a large man with a bald head and an ever-present brown tweed jacket, took his place at the front. He continued to speak for an interminable period of time and Lyra’s attention was completely diverted to other things as the lecture went on.
Her hand, which had held a pen, was over her notebook for quite some time but her eyes were lost looking at the window. There was a quad which was quite lively, full of whirling leaves, students scurrying about and everything else. It was as if anything happening outside was far more captivating than any class proceedings.
“Miss Donovan?”
The piercing voice of Professor McBride brought her back to the moment. She blinked, realizing that the Professor had asked something of her way too late.
Everyone was looking at her now.
“Erm, sorry, could you please repeat yourself,” she asked ashamed and blushing.
Just when the professor was preparing to answer her the bell rang to signify the end of the class.
Lyra had no qualms in scrambling for her things and dashing out of the classroom. But the moment she stepped out of the room into the corridor, that feeling inside her returned, the one she’d experienced for weeks – that sense of anticipation. A feeling as if some disturbance lay in wait for her somewhere just out of reach.
Even in the midst of laughter and comfort, her chest was laden with an unshakable tension; as if everything she understood, knew, was on the brink of something unfathomably huge.
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The hallway was gently buzzing with the low hum of talking students, soft thud of closed books, and footsteps echoing against the old tiled floor. There was something about this building, reeking with a feel of being from another era. Or, perhaps, the walls panelled in ancient wood, with dusty portraits lining every corridor of professors long forgotten, their eyes seeming so very stern, far away, and passing in silent judgment on the present.Ivy shivered, hugging her cardigan closer as she walked beside Lyra. "Ugh, I wish we could skip this class," she muttered. Ivy was worn out, and it showed in the lacing of tiredness within her voice. Surprisingly warm October weather outside hadn't stopped the chill of autumn from seeping into the building. "I'm already tired from the first class of the day. A nap sounds perfect right about now.”Rhett, striding ahead of them with his usual relaxed swagger, ran a hand through his dark hair. “We’re already here,” he pointed out, his tone resigned
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Tharion carefully placed a weathered tome on the table, its aged leather cover showing cracks, accompanied by scrolls that exuded an equally ancient air. A solitary lantern illuminated the room, casting elongated shadows on the stone walls. Lyra and Viana, consumed by curiosity, leaned in closer, their eyes gleaming with interest. “Alright,” Tharion commenced in a scholarly yet eager manner, “let's delve into the fundamentals—how Nerathia came into existence.”Lyra, feigning composure despite the myriad of questions bubbling within her, rested her chin on her hand. The sense of anticipation surged through her, though she strived not to disrupt the narrative unfolding before her.Turning the fragile, yellowed pages of the book, Tharion's lips curled into a faint smile as his fingers delicately traced the text. It seemed as though he had traversed the tale countless times, yet still found marvel in its words.“An era preceding mortals, cities, or even the notion of time, Nerathia lay
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Tharion guided Lyra and Viana through the winding corridors of Valestra, the soft echo of their footsteps reverberating against the ancient stone walls. The flickering glow of enchanted lanterns bathed their path in a pale, ethereal light. The day’s events had left Lyra’s muscles sore, but the faint smell of parchment and ink in the air brought a strange comfort, reminiscent of the library back home. They entered a modest chamber with three neatly arranged beds and a table cluttered with scrolls and ink pots. Tharion paused, gesturing around with a bright smile. “You’ll rest here. Not bad, eh? Well, as much as one can expect while journeying with a god of chaos.” He glanced around as if expecting Zarekth to appear from the shadows. When he didn’t, Tharion shook his head. “Where is he? Wandering off, I suppose. Typical gods, always mysterious.” He looked back at Lyra and Viana, his face alight with excitement. “Still, I can’t believe it. You’re traveling with Zarekth. Do
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The towering gates of Valestra, the City of Scholars, loomed before them, their intricate carvings glinting faintly under the soft glow of enchanted lanterns. The gates were vast, an imposing wall of engraved knowledge and symbols of wisdom, as though every inch carried the weight of history. Beyond them, faint murmurs of life could be heard—footsteps, low voices, and the hum of magic weaving through the air.Zarekth, Lyra, and Viana approached cautiously, their journey weary yet purposeful. Two magicians, clad in flowing robes lined with silver runes, emerged from their posts near the gate, their staff glowing faintly with defensive magic. Their expressions were stern, their gazes sharp as they surveyed the strangers before them.“Halt!” One of them commanded, his voice as crisp as the cold night air. “Who seeks entry into Valestra? Strangers are not welcome without cause.”Lyra tensed, clutching her bow instinctively. Viana stepped closer to her, though her own knives were sh
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The ruins stood like a forgotten monument, its jagged stones and crumbled walls offering shelter from the night’s chill. The distant wind whispered through the ruins, carrying the last remnants of the battle they had just escaped. Lyra’s breath came in shallow gasps, her body tired but her mind racing from the encounter. She had barely noticed the minor scratches that lined her arms and face, too preoccupied with the danger that had almost claimed them.Viana, ever the healer, moved swiftly to her side. “You’re lucky, Lyra. Nothing too serious here,” she murmured as her hands glowed with healing light, closing the shallow cuts with a practiced touch.Lyra nodded, grateful for the comfort, but her eyes drifted toward Zarekth. The god’s face was strained, his jaw clenched as he stood, trying to ignore the pain radiating from his side. The slash was deep, the blood oozing from the wound in thick golden rivulets. Lyra’s heart skipped at the sight—gods didn’t bleed red, as mortals di
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The Creatures of the Night
The dwindling fire barely illuminated the camp, casting subtle, flickering shadows. The night remained tranquil, disturbed only by the occasional leaf rustling in the breeze and the soft crackling of the embers. Lyra and Viana rested on their bedrolls, swathed in their cloaks, the fire's warmth easing them into a profound slumber.Zarekth, ever vigilant, had drifted into a restless slumber, though his mind never fully left the surrounding woods. Even in sleep, his senses remained sharp, attuned to any threat that may arise.And something was coming.The unfolding events began with a mere whisper, a faint and fragmented murmur that hovered on the fringes of consciousness. Subsequently, the ambient temperature plunged, shrouding the camp in a chilling embrace, while shadows seemed to lengthen ominously. An array of peculiar sounds permeated the atmosphere: soft skittering, faint rustling, and indistinct murmurs, suggestive of a veiled observer, a silent presence lingering nearby. As
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The Unseen Threat
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
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A Taste of Malice
The air reeked of sulfur and decay. Shadows swayed unpredictably on the uneven walls, driven by a restless, simmering fire casting erratic flickers in the heart of the chamber. Within the vast expanse, skeletal remains, devoid of flesh, stood in rows, their empty sockets giving an impression of a perpetual, haunting gaze.The oppressive heat of the place made even the darkness feel alive, writhing with malicious intent.From the depths of the gloom came laughter—low and guttural at first, then rising into a cacophony of voices, each more twisted and deranged than the last.“Awake. Awake!” one voice hissed, its tone dripping with mockery. “The son of Aureon lives again. Can you believe it?”Laughter rippled through the chamber, sharp and biting, like claws scraping against stone.“Foolish,” another voice sneered. This one was deeper, a slow rumble that seemed to shake the very ground beneath. “He should have remained buried, forgotten. Who dared disturb the seal?”A third voice join
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Fractured Memories
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
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The Road to Valestra
Zarekth scowled, his patience already wearing thin. He cast a cold glance at Viana, who stood before him with a determined look in her eyes and a travel bag slung over her shoulder. The sight of her preparing to join their journey only added to his irritation. It was enough that Lyra had been thrust into his path—an unexpected weight he hadn’t asked for—but now this? Another mortal tagging along? He released a quiet exhale, gently squeezing the bridge of his nose.“You should go back,” Zarekth said, his voice flat and commanding. “This journey isn’t for you. It’s dangerous, and you’ll only slow us down.”Viana tilted her head proudly, indifferent to the biting coolness of his refusal. "I'm no longer a child," she said in a steady tone.“Alda knows that, which is why she let me leave. I’m seeking a better future, and I’ll find my own path when the time comes. But for now, I’ll travel with you both.”Lyra, standing at Viana’s side, crossed her arms and looked at Zarekth with a raise
