The cold morning air brushes against her face as she adjusts her gear. With the proteins from the previous day stored in her system, she activates her advanced metabolic enhancement systems. A wave of energy courses through her body, an electrifying sensation that awakens all her senses.
"Ready, Lugh. Activate trajectory monitoring," she says, checking the map projected on her visor one last time.
"Optimized trajectory. Caloric expenditure rate within acceptable parameters. I'll keep you informed of any anomalies," Lugh responds.
Lyra nods, and with a slight push, she launches herself forward. Her speed exceeds any ordinary human limit, her legs moving in perfect rhythm, powered by the technology that enhances every fiber of her being. The desolate landscapes blur around her: twisted trees, moss-covered rocks, and beyond, the horizon beginning to bathe in the colors of a new day.
Within minutes, the fortress appears before her. An imposing structure, surrounded by thick walls of dark stone, seeming to resist the passage of time. The wooden bridge leading to the main entrance is flanked by soldiers in plate armor, and above, several ballistae point outward, imposing and lethal.
Lyra gradually slows down, leaving a trail of dust behind her. Her breathing is steady, barely altered by the effort. She stops a few meters before the bridge, pulling out a fish protein bar. She takes a bite while assessing the situation with a mix of curiosity and caution.
"This place is well defended," she comments, chewing as her eyes scan the ballistae and soldiers.
"Too well for a mere border garrison," Lugh replies in her ear. "The design and placement of the defenses suggest they are expecting something more than just minor incursions."
Lyra frowns at Lugh's words. She finishes her snack and puts away the empty wrapper. Then, she slowly moves toward the bridge, keeping her hands visible to avoid appearing as an immediate threat.
One of the soldiers spots her approach and raises his hand, signaling her to stop.
"Halt! Identify yourself and state your purpose," he commands in a firm voice.
Lyra raises her hands, showing that she has no visible weapons, although she knows that her gear and appearance have likely already raised suspicions.
"I'm an explorer, lost in this world. I need information and help to survive."
The soldier exchanges glances with his companions, and one of them disappears behind the walls, probably to report to a superior. While waiting, Lyra feels the weight of the ballistae aimed at her, each one capable of piercing her if they make the right shot.
"Relax, Lyra," Lugh whispers in a soothing tone. "They're just as confused as you."
She lets out a small sigh.
"I hope so, because I'm tired of getting arrows or threats wherever I go."
The seconds feel like minutes until the sound of a gate opening breaks the tension. A middle-aged man, with armor more ornate than the soldiers', steps out from the fortress. His eyes scrutinize her carefully before he speaks.
"You are... different. Come in, but with caution. We don't tolerate betrayal here."
Lyra crosses the bridge with controlled steps, feeling the gazes fixed on her back. She knows she's entering an unknown environment, but the promise of answers and resources pushes her to continue. With each step, she reminds herself that survival means adaptation, and she's willing to play whatever card necessary.
Lyra is escorted by the soldiers through dark hallways, the echo of their footsteps resonating off the stone walls. The atmosphere inside the fortress is tense and meticulously organized, designed to convey power and control. The guards surround her, watchful, their eyes fixed on her every move. The air is thick with distrust, but Lyra remains calm, aware that an impulsive reaction could be fatal.
Finally, they arrive at a large room, a stark dining hall with walls decorated with tapestries depicting battles and victories from a distant past. At the far end, a strong-looking man with a stern gaze is seated at a solid wooden table. His uniform is perfectly fitted, and a stylized dragon emblem gleams on his chest: the insignia of Lord Lucian Drakenhoff. The commander of the garrison studies Lyra with a calculating look as she stops in front of him.
"Who are you?" the commander asks, his authoritative tone cutting through the cold air that fills the room. "And more importantly, what are you doing in the lands of Lord Lucian Drakenhoff? We don't usually receive strangers without prior authorization."
Lyra surveys her surroundings; the soldiers posted along the walls seem more alert than ever, ready to act at the slightest sign of threat. The situation is clearly out of her control, but she keeps her composure. She needs to be careful with her words.
"My name is Lyra Nyx. I'm an explorer, I pilot the Astra Nova, an interstellar exploration vessel under the command of the United Earth Confederation Space Force base." — she pauses, watching the commander's expression, knowing that doubt is the first barrier she must overcome. — "I got lost in this world. I've been traveling alone for days. I've been trying to find an energy source for my ship, but I haven't heard back from my base..." — her voice softens, as if trying to convey some of her desperation — "I need information, help."
The commander stares at her, evaluating each word. In the distance, a soldier whispers something, and Lyra watches as the commander nods slightly, indicating that he is processing what he has just heard.
"Explorer, you say," murmurs the commander, his eyes never leaving hers. "If you are who you say you are, then you have access to technologies I've never seen. What brings you to Drakenhoff's lands? You don't look like a mere curiosity seeker, and your words sound like someone with much more at stake."
Lyra breathes deeply, feeling the pressure of the situation. She can't afford to reveal too much, but she also can't lie about her mission. There are still too many unknowns in her mind.
"My mission is to find resources, especially energy sources. My ship is damaged, and without energy, I can't move forward. I was looking for something, something that could help me get out of here and continue my journey."
The commander leans back in his chair, his fingers interlaced as if weighing her words with a dangerous calm. The room fills with silence, and Lyra feels the tension escalate.
"Drakenhoff is no place for the curious, Lyra. Nor are its lands. Here, we follow rules, and those who don't, disappear," he responds finally, his tone cold and cutting. Then, his eyes shift toward one of the soldiers, who nods quickly and exits the room. The commander doesn't take his eyes off Lyra. "And now, you want me to help you. I'll tell you this: you say you're an explorer, but you wear a strange kind of combat armor, and what ships are you talking about? We're far from the sea here. I think you're a spy. Some other kingdom plans to invade us," the commander leaves the sentence hanging in the air, and the implied threat is clear.
Lyra remains still, her eyes locked on the commander, carefully measuring each word before responding. She knows she's on the brink of confrontation, but the situation is delicate. The tension hangs in the air, heavy, as if any false move could trigger an irreversible conflict.
"I am not a spy," she says, the firmness in her voice contrasting with the uncertainty coursing through her body. "I am an explorer, sent on a mission of research and survival. My ship, the Astra Nova, was damaged in a cosmic storm. I've been searching for resources and solutions so I can continue my mission."
She pauses, allowing the commander to process her words as she adjusts the armor she is wearing. The combat armor is an extension of herself, a constant reminder of the fragility of her situation and the need to be prepared for the unpredictable. It's a piece of advanced technology, yes, but its purpose is to defend, not to attack.
"As for the armor..." she continues, "It's just protective gear. Exploration in unknown worlds, especially places like this, often requires more than simple tools. I'm not here to invade, just to survive."
She watches the commander, looking for any sign that he might understand her position. The man's gaze seems harsh, but something in his posture suggests he is still weighing her words.
"I am not with any other kingdom. And, if my words mean anything, what I want most right now is to find a way back to my world. I have no intention of getting involved in other people's conflicts."
Lyra steps forward, her expression serious but honest, hoping that the commander can see the truth in her eyes. She knows that in this hostile, isolated world, doubt and fear are more common than trust, but she still hopes she can convince him that her mission is peaceful.
At that moment, Lugh interrupts her thoughts.
"Lyra, this situation is dangerous, but not impossible. Don't give away too much information. They won't understand what intergalactic travel means, let alone a spaceship like the Astra Nova. Try to simplify. Talk about your ship as if it were a terrestrial exploration vehicle. Tell them you come from a far-off place, but don't mention other civilizations or advanced technologies they can't grasp."
"I can try," says Lyra, and the moment she reaches for her backpack, the guards intervene, gripping her arms firmly while another opens the backpack and empties its contents in front of the commander's scrutinizing gaze.
"What is this?" he asks, raising the rifle in front of Lyra, who curses quietly, feeling her body tense up.
Lyra, knowing she has no choice but to remain calm, responds, "It's an energy rifle. It's not a conventional weapon, but it serves for personal defense in extreme situations."
The commander doesn't seem convinced. He examines the rifle carefully and then lifts it, as if wanting to study every detail of the weapon.
"Personal defense? What exactly are you defending yourself from? We're thousands of miles away from any threat."
Lyra takes a deep breath, and with a mix of discomfort and determination, she keeps her composure.
"I don't know if you're familiar with energy technology, but this rifle shoots a stun beam, not a killing one. It's designed for close combat, in case the circumstances require it. It's the only thing I have to protect myself."
The commander didn't say anything, but his skeptical gaze remained fixed on her. He placed the rifle on the table, still observing her without passing judgment.
"Personal defense? From what exactly? This doesn't answer the questions I have."
Lyra met his eyes, remaining calm while the soldiers continued emptying her backpack. Among her belongings were various strange devices, tools that were incomprehensible to them. The commander looked at them without emotion.
"They are exploration tools," Lyra said, noticing the situation was getting more tense than she had anticipated. "Technologies for scanning, analyzing resources, and surviving in hostile environments. They are not weapons. They are... tools. But I understand that in this world, you might see them differently."
The commander studied the devices, and his expression hardened instantly.
"Tools, you say... And why didn't you mention this before? These aren't ordinary objects. Where did you get these things?"
Lyra, feeling the commander's penetrating gaze, took a deep breath and explained, trying to calm her growing anxiety.
"My mission is to explore and gather information. Everything I have comes from the ship, from a place far from here. I'm not a threat to you, but I understand why you might think that. If you let me explain, I can show you what I can do to help."
The commander looked at her intently, evaluating her words with a palpable intensity.
"The only explorers we know are those who go ahead of an invading army, gathering information before launching a siege."
Lyra felt the weight of the commander's words. The accusation was clear, and no matter how much she tried to explain, the distrust was etched in his eyes.
"I understand what you're thinking," she replied, her voice firmer. "But I'm not a war explorer. My goal is not to invade or conquer. I have nothing to do with those you mentioned."
The commander stared at her, his gaze sharp as a dagger.
"Then why come alone, armed, and with strange tools we don't know? The base you mentioned, how many days away is it? Where is your army?" he said coldly.
Lyra clenched her fists, struggling to maintain her composure. She knew her situation was delicate, and every word could mean the difference between survival or being treated as a threat.
"I don't have an army," she answered firmly. "I'm alone, with no support. The ship, the Astra Nova, is all I have. I've been lost in this world, trying to find a way out. But I need your help, and I don't want to be seen as an invader. I'm just an explorer, looking for answers."
The commander studied her for several long seconds, his eyes never leaving her for an instant. Finally, he let out a sigh and leaned back in his chair.
"Take her to the dungeons," he ordered coldly, his tone dripping with disdain. "A couple of days in confinement will make you more talkative..."
The commander said sarcastically, continuing to inspect Lyra's rifle closely. A fleeting glimmer of curiosity and threat passed through his eyes, but his face remained impassive, reflecting only indifference.
The soldiers moved towards her, not in a hurry but with certainty. Lyra could feel her muscles tense, as if any wrong move could cost her dearly. Despite everything, she couldn't help but look at the commander, trying to read something in his features, a crack in his façade of authority.
"I have nothing to hide," Lyra said defiantly as she was led towards the exit. But the commander no longer listened; his attention was fixed on the weapon he had taken from her backpack.
The echoes of their footsteps resonated against the fortress walls as they escorted her to the dungeon, but Lyra couldn't stop wondering if she would ever be able to prove her true intent, or if she would simply become entangled in the web of distrust that had been spun around her.
As Lyra was led through the dark corridors of the fortress, a heavy silence hung over her. Each step took her farther from any possible explanation, and a growing sense of claustrophobia began to seize her chest. The murmurs of the guards faded into the distance until, suddenly, a figure emerged from the edge of her vision.
A human shadow, nearly imperceptible, watched from a half-open door. Its presence was silent, but there was something unsettling in the fixed gaze that pierced her from the darkness. Lyra tensed her muscles, ready to react to any threat, but before she could do anything, the figure vanished, like a sigh carried away by the wind.
A shiver ran down her spine.
"Lugh..." she murmured, knowing her voice would be impossible to hear, but something inside her needed to say it.