The air after the amulet settled wasn't relief. It was like the house had paused, holding its breath, waiting for something. Mira's arms were still tight around me, her fingers twitching slightly against my back as if to remind herself I was still here, still safe. My head rested against her chest, where her heart beat hard and uneven. I could tell she was trying to calm it, but it wasn't working. The tension in the room clung to us like cobwebs—sticky, impossible to shake.
Charlotte hadn't moved much. She sat slumped against the wall, her hand still loosely gripping the hilt of her sword as though she wasn't entirely convinced the danger was gone. Her breathing was shallow, her face pale and damp with sweat. Every so often, her fingers twitched, brushing against her thigh as if to test she still had control. Her eyes flicked toward Lucien, then the amulet, then the window, before settling into a hard stare at nothing.
Lucien stood by the table, his back to all of us. He hadn't said anything since declaring the amulet a guide. His posture was stiff, his shoulders drawn up slightly as if bracing for an argument he didn't want to have. The amulet glowed faintly in his hand, its light casting faint crimson shadows across the wood. He held it tightly, almost possessively, his thumb brushing over the markings as though trying to decode them by touch alone.
The silence grew too thick.
Mira's voice cut through it first, low and tight. "What now, Lucien?"
Her tone was sharp, but there was an undertone of something else—fear, maybe, or exhaustion. She shifted me slightly in her arms, leaning forward as if ready to spring into action if his answer wasn't what she wanted to hear. I felt the tension coil tighter around her, and my small hands instinctively curled into her shirt.
Lucien didn't turn around. "We follow it." His voice was calm, detached. Too calm.
Mira's breath hitched sharply. "You can't be serious."
He glanced over his shoulder, his expression unreadable in the dim light. "Do you have a better idea? The map is leading us to the core of the Crimson Trail's influence. If we're going to end this, we need to go there."
Mira stared at him, her lips pressed into a thin line. I could feel the way her heartbeat spiked, the way her arms tightened protectively around me. "You want to walk into the heart of this thing with him?" Her voice cracked slightly, and she shifted me again, like I needed shielding just from the thought.
Lucien's jaw tightened. "We don't have a choice."
"You keep saying that." Mira's voice was rising now, the sharp edge of frustration cutting through the fear. "But you don't know what's waiting for us there. You don't know what it'll do to him."
Charlotte stirred, her voice cutting through the argument like ice. "We don't have the luxury of avoiding this." She pushed herself upright, her movements slow and stiff, but her gaze was steady as it landed on Mira. "The longer we wait, the stronger it gets. We've seen that."
Mira opened her mouth to argue, but Charlotte held up a hand. "And before you say it, yes, it's a risk. A massive one. But Lucien's right. Sitting here won't solve anything."
The room fell quiet again, the weight of her words settling heavily over all of us. Mira's grip on me didn't loosen, but I felt the tension in her arms shift, her breathing evening out slightly. She didn't look at Charlotte or Lucien. Instead, her gaze dropped to me, her expression softening just enough to remind me that whatever happened, she was here.
"Fine," she said at last, her voice barely more than a whisper. "But if this goes wrong, I'm pulling him out. I don't care what it costs."
Lucien nodded curtly, his eyes lingering on Mira for a moment before turning back to the amulet. He held it up, angling it toward the faint light filtering through the curtains. The markings on its surface shifted slightly, their edges glowing brighter as the light hit them. "We need to head to the western wing."
Charlotte pushed herself to her feet, her movements deliberate as she adjusted her sword. "What's in the western wing?"
Lucien didn't look at her. "Something we've overlooked." He hesitated, his thumb brushing over one of the symbols. "I think it's connected to Lilia."
The name hung in the air like a physical weight, and I felt Mira stiffen against me. "Lilia?" she echoed, her voice low. "As in Lilia Redthorn?"
Lucien nodded, his expression unreadable. "If the trail started with her, it makes sense to go back to where it began. The map is leading us to her study."
---
The western wing was worse than the eastern. The air was colder here, heavier, and it carried a faint metallic scent that clung to the back of my throat. The walls seemed darker, the shadows deeper, twisting unnaturally as if they were alive. Every step felt wrong, the floor creaking beneath our weight in a way that didn't match our movements.
Mira held me close, her arms like a shield as she walked slightly behind Lucien and Charlotte. Her breathing was steady, but I could feel the tension radiating off her in waves. She didn't speak, her gaze flicking constantly between the walls, the floor, and the faint crimson glow of the amulet in Lucien's hand.
Charlotte moved with purpose, her sword unsheathed and ready. Her movements were precise, deliberate, but there was a tautness to her posture that betrayed her unease. She glanced back at us occasionally, her eyes lingering on me for a moment before turning forward again.
Lucien led the way, the amulet casting faint red light across the corridor. His grip on it was tight, his movements quick but controlled. He didn't speak, his focus entirely on the path ahead.
The study wasn't locked. The door creaked open under Charlotte's hand, revealing a room that felt untouched by time. The air inside was still, heavy with the scent of old paper and faintly metallic like the rest of the wing. Shelves lined the walls, crammed with books and artifacts that seemed to hum faintly with latent energy. In the center of the room was a desk, its surface cluttered with scattered papers and a single, ornate diary.
Lucien stepped forward, his movements hesitant as he approached the desk. The amulet pulsed faintly in his hand, its light casting eerie shadows across the room. He reached for the diary, his fingers brushing against its worn cover.
The moment he touched it, the air in the room shifted. The faint hum of the artifacts grew louder, sharper, and the shadows along the walls twisted violently. Mira's grip on me tightened as the temperature dropped, the chill biting through my skin.
Lucien opened the diary slowly, his eyes scanning the first page. "It's hers," he said quietly, his voice barely audible over the growing hum.
Charlotte stepped closer, her hand tightening on her sword. "What does it say?"
Lucien didn't answer immediately. His gaze flicked over the pages, his expression growing darker with every line. "She knew," he muttered finally. "She knew what the pact was doing. She tried to stop it."
Mira's breath hitched, her arms curling protectively around me. "And?"
Lucien's jaw tightened. "She failed." He turned the diary toward us, revealing a page filled with jagged, chaotic writing. The words seemed to bleed off the paper, their edges blurring as if they were trying to escape. "The pact is cyclical. Each generation serves as a host for Valthys."
Mira's grip on me tightened painfully. "And Caelum?" Her voice was barely more than a whisper.
Lucien's expression hardened. "His birth disrupted the cycle. That's why the fractures are happening."
The room fell silent, the weight of his words sinking in. I didn't fully understand, but I felt the way Mira's body tensed, the way her breathing grew shallow.
The system flickered into view suddenly, its text sharp and cold.
[Break the Cycle.]