Night in the hidden valley was strange.
The sky didn't go dark—it shimmered faintly with threads of gold that drifted like living dust. The trees glowed with soft veins of blue, and the river whispered as if the world itself was trying not to wake something ancient.
Daniel sat near the edge of the campfire the Kynari had built for them. The flames burned white, not red, and gave off no smoke—only warmth and a clean scent like morning rain.
Mira leaned back against a smooth boulder, her daggers lying beside her. She traced faint lines on the metal, sharpening not the edge, but her thoughts.
David sat cross-legged, eyes half-closed, channeling slow pulses of energy through his arms to stabilize the cracks in his Titan Glyphs.
For a while, none of them spoke. Silence wasn't awkward here; it was part of the valley's breath.
Then, from the shadows beyond the trees, came a soft sound—footsteps light as falling petals.
A young Kynari girl stepped into the glow. Her hair was the color of pale silver leaves, and her eyes shimmered with faint turquoise light. She carried a tray carved from crystal bark, on which sat bowls of steaming fruit and glimmering water that pulsed faintly with energy.
"I—" she hesitated when Daniel looked up, "—I was told to bring food for the outsiders."
Daniel offered a small smile. "You don't have to sound like it's a crime."
The girl blinked, surprised by his tone, then set the tray down near the fire. "The elders said you would need to regain strength before the dawn. The Gate of Truth consumes more than energy."
David arched an eyebrow. "What, it eats people's souls or something?"
She didn't laugh—she only tilted her head. "If one's heart is too heavy… sometimes the Gate doesn't return them."
That shut him up.
Mira picked up a glowing fruit, sniffed it, and gave a half-smile. "So, you've been living here… for generations? How do you survive with the realm sealed?"
The girl sat carefully beside the fire, curiosity overcoming her shyness. "The realm sustains us. The light in the river feeds our crops. The air renews itself. Some say we live within our ancestor's dream."
"Ancestor," Daniel repeated. "You mean Eryndor?"
She nodded. "He was not only our master—he was the first to see the light in the storm. When the heavens closed upon him, he gave us this valley, bound it with his essence, and told us to wait for the day his lightning would return."
Her gaze flicked to the Codex on Daniel's arm. "And now… it has."
Mira gave Daniel a small smirk. "Seems like your reputation's growing faster than your cultivation."
He chuckled softly. "Not sure I like being called lightning's return."
David leaned closer to the girl. "What's your name?"
"Lyra," she said. "Of the Fifth Line. My family tends the Riverlight Grove."
"That's a lot of light," David muttered.
She smiled shyly. "Light keeps the shadows asleep."
Her words made something flicker across Daniel's thoughts. Light keeps the shadows asleep… A phrase simple but heavy, like a truth disguised as comfort.
Lyra noticed his silence. "You fear the trial?"
Daniel glanced at the river. "Not for myself. The Gate judges hearts… I'm not sure what it'll show us. We've all done things we'd rather not see again."
Lyra looked into the fire, its white flame reflected in her eyes. "Then remember this, outsider—truth doesn't destroy those who face it. Only those who deny it."
For a moment, no one replied. The only sound was the low hum of the valley's strange night.
Mira finally broke the quiet. "For someone raised in isolation, you speak like a philosopher."
Lyra giggled softly, the sound pure and unexpected. "We have little else to do but listen—to the river, the wind, the dreams of the world. They speak, if you're patient."
The laughter eased the tension. They ate quietly, the fruit tasting faintly of lightning and sweetness.
When Lyra rose to leave, she paused and turned to Daniel. "Tomorrow, when you face the Gate, do not look at what it shows you. Look at what it hides."
Then she disappeared into the faint mist, her steps leaving glowing prints that faded behind her.
David exhaled. "That girl gives advice like a riddle wrapped in poetry."
Mira nodded. "And yet… she might be right."
Daniel looked at the faint shimmer of the Gate in the far cliffs. "What it hides…" he murmured. The Codex pulsed once, quietly, as if agreeing.
Above, the golden threads of sky dimmed slightly. Dawn was near.
The storm within Daniel stirred, restless but steady.
He whispered, "Whatever truth waits behind that Gate… we'll face it together."
Mira smiled faintly. "Together, always."
David grinned. "And preferably not dead this time."
The white fire burned low, and the night faded into a pale horizon of gold.
Tomorrow would decide who they truly were.