The forest seemed different as the trio continued their journey. The air was thicker, the light dimmer, and the sounds of nature muted. Even Grent, who usually joked to lighten the mood, was uncharacteristically silent. Ryan's HUD flickered intermittently, but no warnings appeared—yet.
"Feels like we're being watched again," Ryan muttered, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword.
Arya didn't glance back as she responded. "We probably are. The shadows don't give up that easily."
Grent tightened his grip on his hammer, his eyes scanning the underbrush. "Then let's hope they stay in the shadows. I'm not in the mood for another fight."
The group pressed on, the path winding through dense undergrowth and uneven terrain. The faint sound of a river guided them toward a clearing, where they planned to rest before the final stretch to Dawnstead.
When they reached the clearing, it was almost surreal in its tranquility. The river's clear waters sparkled under the muted sunlight, and the soft rustle of leaves created a calm that felt out of place after the chaos of the Azure Spires.
"We'll stop here," Arya said, dropping her pack near the riverbank. "Refill your canteens and rest while you can."
Grent groaned as he sat down, leaning back against a tree. "Finally. A spot that doesn't feel like it's trying to kill us."
Ryan crouched by the river, the cool water a welcome relief as he splashed some on his face. As he refilled his canteen, a faint noise caught his attention. It was soft, almost like a whisper carried on the wind.
He straightened, his gaze darting toward the dense trees on the far side of the clearing. "Did you hear that?"
Arya's head snapped up, her bow already in hand. "What?"
Ryan pointed toward the trees. "A voice. It sounded like…someone calling out."
Grent sighed, standing with a grunt. "Great. Voices in the woods. That's never a bad sign."
Arya's expression darkened. "Stay here. I'll check it out."
Ryan shook his head. "No way. I'm coming with you."
Grent rolled his eyes. "And leave me to guard the camp? Fine, but don't take too long. If you're not back in ten minutes, I'm coming after you."
Arya and Ryan moved cautiously through the trees, the whispers growing louder with each step. The forest seemed to close in around them, the air growing colder and heavier. Ryan's HUD began to flicker again, static interrupting its usual clarity.
"This doesn't feel right," Arya said, her voice low. "Be ready for anything."
Ryan nodded, his sword drawn. The whispers coalesced into something clearer—a voice, soft and melodic, yet filled with an unplaceable sadness.
They emerged into a small grove, the air shimmering faintly as if charged with unseen energy. At the center stood a woman, her back to them. Her long, dark hair cascaded down her back, and her pale skin seemed to glow faintly in the dim light. She wore a flowing, silver-blue cloak that shimmered with an ethereal quality.
Ryan's breath caught in his throat. She didn't seem threatening, but her presence was overwhelming, as though the forest itself bent to her will.
"Who are you?" Arya demanded, her bow trained on the woman.
The woman turned slowly, her movements graceful and deliberate. Her eyes, a striking shade of violet, locked onto Ryan's, and for a moment, the world seemed to stand still.
"I'm not your enemy," she said, her voice soft but carrying an undeniable authority. "You're seeking the Cores, aren't you?"
Arya didn't lower her bow. "How do you know about the Cores?"
The woman's gaze didn't waver. "Because I've been watching you. You're walking a dangerous path, one that could lead to ruin if you're not careful."
Ryan stepped forward, his grip on his sword tightening. "Who are you? Why are you watching us?"
The woman smiled faintly, though it didn't reach her eyes. "My name is Lyra. I'm here to help you—if you'll let me."
Arya's expression hardened. "Help us? Or use us?"
Lyra sighed, her gaze dropping briefly before meeting Arya's again. "I don't expect you to trust me, but our goals align. The Cores are powerful—too powerful to fall into the wrong hands. I can guide you, but the choice is yours."
Ryan exchanged a glance with Arya, uncertainty etched into his features. "How do we know you're telling the truth?"
Lyra's eyes softened as she looked at him. "You don't. But if you continue without understanding what you're up against, the shadows will consume everything."
The weight of her words hung in the air, and for a moment, no one spoke. Arya finally lowered her bow, though her posture remained tense.
"We'll listen," Arya said cautiously. "But one wrong move, and you're done."
Lyra inclined her head in acknowledgment. "Fair enough. There's much to discuss, but not here. The shadows are closer than you think."
As Lyra turned to lead them back toward the camp, Ryan couldn't shake the feeling that meeting her was no coincidence. Her presence stirred something within him—a mix of intrigue, doubt, and an unshakable sense that their journey had just taken a far more complicated turn.