Lorian lay flat on his back on the cold, blood-soaked ground.
That part came first. Just that. The ground. Cold against his spine. Too cold.
Wet in certain places and sticky in others and his cloth was so soaked that it cling to him.
For a moment, that was all his mind could hold.
Not where he was.
Not how he got there.
Just the pressure of the earth beneath him and the faint awareness that it didn't feel right.
He didn't remember falling.
He didn't remember stopping either.
There was no actual moment where he could point that he ever decided to lie down. His body was simply there now, lying flat against the ground and his thoughts felt slow and very messed up trying to grab onto things.
His eyes were open.
He knew that much because light kept drifting across his vision.
He looked up right at the sky.
It took longer for him than it should have for things to start making sense. The shapes above him didn't line up at first. Things were all blurry and stretched, floating lazily, pale and thin, sliding across his sight slow. He couldn't figure out what were they floating on the sky.
Clouds.
That was what they were.
The realisation didn't bring comfort.
It bothered him instead.
He didn't understood why this bothered him that much, only that it did. The way they moved so calmly. So steadily. Like nothing had happened underneath them. Like the ground below hadn't been torn apart by magic and claws and screaming only moments ago.
Like none of it mattered.
The battle was over.
He knew that at a distant, that certain parts of his mind the part that dealt with outcomes and endings, the part that counted what was left and what was gone.
There were no screams anymore.
No shouting.
No spells ripping through the air hard enough to make his teeth buzz and his head ring.
The shadows were gone. Completely gone.
Whatever dragged them into the clearing had dragged them away again, leaving nothing behind but damage.
The cursed clearing was quiet.
Not peaceful.
Just quiet.
For a long moment, Lorian didn't move.
He didn't choose by himself to stay still. He wasn't deciding anything. His body simply didn't responded when he tried to tell it to move. His chest rose and fell , uneven breaths, each one feeling very wrong, like his lungs were working harder than they should have to. Something heavy sat on his chest not sharp, not stabbing just heavy enough that breathing felt like effort instead of instinct.
His arms hurt.
That realisation hit him very slowly, creeping in instead of hitting all at once. A deep, pain ran through , the kind that made it feel like he had been holding something far too heavy for far too long. His ribs burned every time he tried to breath, the pain spreading more and more instead of stopping at any point where it should have, and he found himself pausing between breaths as it hurt him.
That was when he noticed him magic was drained.
Not the moment it left. Just the moment he realised it wasn't there anymore. The faint warmth he usually felt just under his skin the quiet assurance that something was still answering him, still listening was missing.
It hadn't been replaced by pain.
Just nothing.
A hollow, numb space where something used to live.
He knew that feeling.
It always came after he went too far.
Normally, that would have scared him and it would have sent a spike of panic through his chest.
But Right now, it didn't.
Because Sylvera—
The thought didn't finish itself.
It didn't need to.
Sylvera was gone.
The idea didn't rushed into his mind. It slipped in slowly. She had been right there. Close enough that he could still remember exactly where she had been standing.
Close enough that he should have been able to stop it.
He hadn't.
The creature had taken her. Wrapped her in shadow and dragged her away while he stood there, frozen, useless, watching it happen and doing nothing.
Again.
The word settled heavy in his head.
Again.
Lorian closed his eyes, his jaw kept tightening until it started hurting. Guilt and anger weighted his chest down feeling even more heavy, making it difficult for him to breathe. His mind could not let go of that one moment, replaying the moment in repeat, always ending in the same question.
Why didn't I move faster?
Slowly, he forced himself to sit right up.
Pain increased immediately sharp and unforgiving. His muscles screamed, his ribs burned hard enough to blur his vision. He stayed hunched forward, elbows on his knees, breathing through clenched teeth and waiting for the pain to ease.
He didn't care.
He stared at the place where Sylvera had vanished.
The ground there was ruined. Burn marks there deep into the earth. Deep cut through the soil where claws and spells had torn into it. It looked like something violent had passed through and taken whatever it wanted without leaving anything behind.
Now there was nothing there.
Nothing.
Too much nothing.
He stayed like that for a long time. Long enough for the pain to fade into a constant throb. Long enough for the silence to start feeling unbearable instead of empty.
Then something inside him snapped.
With a rough, broken sound, Lorian slammed his fist into the ground. Pain shot up his arm, but he barely noticed. He hit the dirt again. And again. Over and over, like if he hit it hard enough, something might change, like the moment might undo itself.
His knuckles split open.
Blood smeared into the soil.
He didn't stop.
"How stupid can I be?" he shouted.
His voice cracked halfway through the sentence.
"How stupid?"
His whole body shook. He couldn't tell if it was from pain, exhaustion, or the anger burning through him. He dragged a bloodied hand through his hair, teeth clenched so tightly his jaw ached.
"I should've locked her away," he muttered. "Kept her far from all of this."
His voice dropped, rough and tired.
"Somewhere safe. Somewhere no shadow could reach her. Somewhere she wouldn't have had to deal with me."
He swallowed hard.
"I should have waited," he said. "Until I found a real way. A proper way. An exact way to bring Lyria back without dragging anyone else into this."
His hand fell uselessly to his side.
"I used her," he whispered. "I used her because she reminded me of Lyria. Because she heard the same voices. Because she carried the same pain."
The name settled heavy in his chest.
Lyria.
The first one he failed. The loss that never really left him, no matter how far he ran.
"And now Sylvera's gone too," he said quietly. "Because I needed her to be strong enough to survive being near me."
The guilt hit him fully then. Heavy. Crushing. Enough to make his whole body shake. He had brought Sylvera into this cursed world. He had promised her guidance. Protection.
And instead, he had handed her over to the same fate that had taken Lyria.
For a moment, the grief was so thick he couldn't see past it.
What was the point of getting up again?
The thought stayed longer than it should have.
Long enough to scare him.
Lorian took a slow breath.
Then another.
"No," he muttered.
He clenched his fists until his nails dug into his palms.
"No," he said again. "Not like this."
He forced himself to stand up but His legs shook right away, pain shooting through his body, but he stayed upright. Anger kept him standing when his strength couldn't. He turned toward the forest, toward the place where the creature had disappeared with Sylvera.
"I have to find her," he said aloud. "I will find her."
The words sounded thin at first. Then steadier.
"I don't care what it takes," he continued. "I don't care how deep into the dark I have to go."
His jaw tightened.
"I'm not stopping."
He took a step forward.
"She trusted me," he thought to himself. "And I failed her. But this isn't over."
He looked up at the sky. The clouds were dark and heavy. Every mistake he'd ever made seemed to sit on his chest, but he kept his eyes there.
Not for himself.
Not just for Lyria.
But for Sylvera.
"She's not gone not yet," he whispered. "I'll bring her back no matter how."
The wind moved through the trees, low and restless. Lorian turned his back on the clearing and started walking. He limped at first, then slowly pushed through it.
He didn't know where they had taken.
But he would find her.
And nothing would stop him.
Far away, hidden beneath layers of illusion.
Arther stopped walking and turned his gaze out a narrow window carved into the stone. Sunlight poured in, illuminating the serene valley, but the glint in Arther's eyes said he saw nothing peaceful.
"Lorian will come looking," Arther said. "He always does. That beast cannot help but dig through graves looking for what he's lost."
The attendant remained silent.
Arther turned to a guard stationed by a side corridor. "Have the old palace been emptied completely?"
"Yes, my king," the soldier said with a bow. "We left nothing. Every scroll, every trace of magic, every item that could link us to that place gone. Even the bloodstains have been cleansed."
"Good," Arther muttered. "He'll go there first. Let him waste time among the ruins."
"And the girl?" the robed person asked.
Arther paused.
"She's not ready yet," he said quietly. "But she will be. In time, she'll understand everything."
Sylvera slept behind a closed door.
"She's waking sooner than expected," a mage said quietly.
Arther smiled faintly.
As they walked away down the long corridor, the sounds of the valley wind faded behind thick stone walls. Outside, the castle remained cloaked, its edges blurred like a mirage. No road led to its gates. No traveler could see its walls. Even the birds seemed to avoid it.
It was a fortress not meant to be found.
But Lorian was coming.
By the time Lorian reached the foothills, it got darker as the night has fallen. Lightning flashed across the sky, briefly lighting up the palace ahead.
He slowed.
Something felt wrong.
A voice brushed his thoughts.
Lorian.
He turned and whatever he was been seeing vanished as a hand snapped around his throat.
"You should've listened," Arther said, and then everything went dark.