Lyra’s Doubts
The weight of Seraphine’s revelations pressed heavily on Lyra’s mind, pulling her thoughts into a whirlwind of uncertainty and fear. Late at night, she found herself by the academy’s fountain, the soft trickling of water failing to soothe the storm within. The moonlight cast an ethereal glow across the courtyard, her silver eyes reflecting its light as they flickered with doubt.
Eryon’s footsteps were barely audible as he approached, his movements cautious but steady. He dropped onto the bench beside her, his presence grounding even in its silence. “You’re not sleeping,” he said, his tone more observation than question.
Lyra shook her head, her voice soft as she replied, “How could I? This plan… it feels like we’re walking into something we don’t understand. What if it’s too much?”
Eryon’s jaw tightened, his amber eyes locking onto hers with a steady determination. “We don’t have a choice, Lyra,” he said firmly. “If we don’t trust Seraphine, what else do we have? The King won’t stop hunting us, and the artifact is our best chance at stopping him.”
His conviction was clear, but Lyra couldn’t shake the gnawing doubt in her chest. “And what if she’s using us?” she whispered, the question slipping from her lips like a confession.
Eryon opened his mouth to respond, but before he could, a familiar voice cut through the quiet.
“Trust is overrated.”
Misery stepped out of the shadows, her crimson eyes gleaming with a faint amusement. She strolled toward them with an air of casual confidence, her smirk faint but knowing. “But if you’re going through with this plan, you’re going to need me to make sure it doesn’t blow up in your faces.”
Eryon tensed, his wolf stirring uneasily at her sudden appearance. “You shouldn’t be here,” he said, his tone clipped and cold.
Misery waved off his protest with a flick of her hand and perched herself on the edge of the fountain. “Relax, darling. I’m not here to tattle. I’m here because I’m curious—and because I think you’re smart enough to realize you’ll need all the help you can get.”
Lyra glanced at Eryon, her wolf growling softly in the back of her mind. Misery’s unpredictable nature always left her uneasy. “What’s in it for you?” she asked cautiously, her voice laced with suspicion.
Misery’s smirk widened, her sharp expression glinting in the moonlight. “Survival,” she said simply. “And maybe a little excitement. Watching you two stumble through this mess has been entertaining, but I’d rather not be collateral damage when things go sideways.”
Eryon’s gaze hardened, but he didn’t argue. Misery’s presence, while frustrating, had proven useful more than once, and her sharp instincts made her an ally they couldn’t entirely dismiss.
As the three sat in tense silence, the artifact in Lyra’s pocket began to hum faintly. Its presence had always been unsettling, but now the vibrations seemed almost alive, the faint sound growing louder. Lyra pulled it out, the jagged crystal catching the moonlight and glowing faintly, its light pulsing with a rhythm that felt too deliberate to be random.
The whispers emanating from the artifact grew clearer, forming a single, haunting word that sent a chill through the night air: “Soon.”
Misery’s smirk faded as she stared at the glowing crystal, her playful demeanor replaced by something colder, more serious. “That thing,” she said quietly, her voice uncharacteristically solemn, “is going to change everything.”
Lyra clutched the artifact tighter, its eerie light casting shadows across her face. Eryon leaned closer, his wolf pacing uneasily, as if sensing the storm brewing ahead. For a moment, none of them spoke, the weight of the artifact’s whispered promise hanging heavily between them.
The night felt darker than before, and for the first time, Lyra wondered if they were truly prepared for what was coming.
