LYRIAN
Lyrian and Reone hurried down the corridor toward the conference room, Sire close behind them.
As they reached the doorway, Lyrian and Sire stepped inside—but Reone stopped short. He lingered at the entrance, frozen by what he saw inside.
Like him and Lyrian, everyone had gotten out of their night attire. Mia was seated on the couch, her face buried in her hands, shoulders shaking with quiet, uncontrollable sobs. Seren sat beside her, arms wrapped tightly around Mia's shoulders, murmuring soft words of comfort meant for her and everyone else. The others stood scattered around the room, forming a loose, uneasy circle. Their expressions were grim, weighed down by grief. Even Anika and Primi—still new to the group—looked deeply affected.
On the large screen mounted to the wall, Dane's face stared back at them—grave, saddened, and exhausted.
"I'm sorry for springing this on you, guys," Dane said quietly, his voice steady but heavy with regret. "But as his friends—and his wife—I felt that I should tell you as soon as possible."
Lyrian's chest tightened painfully at his words.
"What's going on?" she asked, panic creeping into her voice as she crossed the room. She knelt in front of Mia and gently placed a hand on her knee, grounding herself as much as her friend. "Mia?"
Mia lifted her head just enough to look at her, eyes red, glassy, unfocused. She shook her head slowly, lips trembling—clearly unable to form words.
Fear wrapped itself tighter around Lyrian's heart.
Sire had only told her there was an update on Rhys—nothing more. Now, standing in this room, surrounded by grief and silence, her mind leapt helplessly to the worst conclusions.
So did Reone's.
His hand tightened around the doorframe as he scanned the room, his breathing shallow.
"So… Rhys," he began, his voice strained, almost breaking. "Is he—uh—is he…?"
"No," Mickey cut in quickly, sensing the spiral. "He's alive. But…" He hesitated, jaw tightening. "It's bad."
"How bad?" Reone asked, forcing the words out.
Mickey turned toward the screen. "Dane?"
Dane nodded once. "Rhys had a seizure, Reone."
Reone stiffened. "What do you mean, a seizure?" His tone sharpened, edged with anger and fear colliding.
"When Damon struck him, Rhys fell," Dane explained carefully. "That fall caused a head injury. I put him into a coma to stop his brain from swelling." He paused, visibly pained. "But it didn't work. The swelling continued—and that caused the seizure."
Lyrian swallowed hard, her throat tight. "What does that mean?" she asked, her voice trembling as she glanced back at Mia. "Is he… is he okay?"
Dane hesitated, clearly choosing his words with care.
"I managed to bring the swelling under control," he said slowly. "But—"
"He thinks the damage is already done," Mia suddenly said, finally lifting her head fully. Her voice was hollow, stripped of warmth. "That the swelling could make Rhys forget things." She met Lyrian's gaze, eyes shining with tears. "Including people. Including… me." Her voice cracked. "And that's if he even wakes up at all."
Lyrian's hand flew to her mouth.
"No," she whispered. "That's horrible. It can't be—"
"I'm afraid it is, Lyrian," Dane said gently. "If Rhys wakes, you all need to be prepared for the possibility that parts of his memory, involving you guys, may be gone."
Reone sank heavily into a chair, his legs giving out beneath him as the weight of it all crashed down.
Tears slid down Lyrian's face. She wrapped her arms around Mia, holding her tightly—no longer searching for comforting words. There were none.
Suddenly, Reone stood.
"This is your fault," he said, turning toward Dane on the screen, his voice shaking with fury and grief. "You let this happen."
Lyrian shook her head at him, tears streaming freely now. If Reone saw her, he ignored her.
Seren rose immediately, stepping between the tension. "Reone, that's not fair," she said firmly, coming to her husband's defense. "Dane did everything he could."
"He should've done more," Reone snapped, pain bleeding through the anger.
Dane's expression faltered. "I gave Rhys everything I had," he said quietly. "And I'm still trying, in fact."
"You are?" Reone asked, some of the anger draining from his voice, replaced by shame.
Dane nodded. "Yes."
Reone closed his eyes and exhaled slowly, shoulders slumping as the fire left him. "I'm sorry, Dane," he said. "I thought you were giving up. But that's no excuse. You're clearly doing your best."
"We understand, right, Dane?" Seren said gently, placing a steadying hand on Reone's shoulder.
Dane nodded. "It's okay."
Reone swallowed, then looked back at the screen. "Isn't there something else you can try, Dane?" he asked desperately. "A spell. A potion."
"Magic won't fix this," Dane informed him softly.
"But you can," Mia said suddenly, standing. Her voice was fierce despite the tears streaking her face. "Promise me you'll save him."
Dane looked torn, anguish flickering across his features. "I can't promise that."
"Promise me," Mia insisted, her voice shaking but unyielding.
After a long pause, Dane shook his head. "I promise I'll keep trying."
Mia's face crumpled at that.
Seren stepped forward. "Thank you for telling us," she said gently. "We'll talk soon."
"I love you," Dane said quietly.
"I love you too," Seren replied, ending the call.
Silence fell over the room—thick, suffocating.
Mia collapsed into Seren's arms. Lyrian sank to the floor, lips pressed together as she struggled not to shatter completely. Reone stood rigid, fists clenched, barely holding himself together.
"This is a nightmare," Mia whispered.
"I know," Seren said softly. "But you have to stay strong."
"My husband is in a coma," Mia cried. "And if he does wake up, he might not know who I am. I don't know if I can be strong anymore."
"Yes, you do," Seren said firmly. "We are here. We'll be your strength."
Mia pulled away suddenly, her grief sharpening into something dangerous. "This is all Damon's fault," she hissed. "And I am going to kill him when I see him next."
"Not if I do it first," Reone said darkly.
Primi deliberately cleared his throat. "Guys, I'm all for that,ending this Damon guy," he said carefully, "but exactly how are we planning on doing that? Do we even have a plan?"
"I've got one," Mia replied coldly. "You take care of finding the Trident—the Sisterhood. I burn Damon alive."
Lyrian shivered at Mia's murderous words. There was a time when Mia would have hesitated a hundred times before laying a hand on anyone. But it was clear now—this wasn't the same girl.
In fact, she looked disturbingly like the nightmare version Lyrian had seen the night before.
Lyrian pressed her lips together, unease curling in her stomach. She's just angry, she told herself. The nightmare isn't coming true.
Nova cleared her throat. "Um… I don't exactly have a plan to stop Damon," she said carefully. "But thanks to the scroll, I've learned a few things that could help us get the Trident."
Every head in the room turned toward her.
"What information?" Reone asked.
"Hold on, Reone," Lyrian said, pushing herself up from the floor. She glanced at Nova, then back at Mia. "Mia, maybe you should sit this one out. At least for now. Given everything you're dealing with."
Mia sniffed and wiped at her face, lifting her chin.
"No," she said immediately. "I'm not doing that." Her voice steadied as she spoke. "I haven't come this far to stop now. If anything, I'm more determined than ever to stop Damon."
Lyrian pressed her lips together. She didn't say it out loud, but every instinct she had screamed that this was a bad idea.
Reone stepped closer to Mia.
"Mia's part of this," he said quietly, looking at Lyrian. His look communicated another message. Let it go.
Lyrian hesitated. She wanted to argue—wanted to insist that grief and fury were a turbulent mix. But it didn't feel right in the moment. Not with everything already so close to breaking.
She exhaled and gave a small shrug. "Alright." She turned back to Nova. "You were saying."
Nova nodded, ready for the shift.
"There's… a lot in the scroll that King Arnab never mentioned," she began. "I'm guessing it's because of translation issues."
Anika frowned. "You're telling me you managed to translate something my father couldn't?" she asked, skepticism clear in her tone. "When you're not even a diviner?"
Nova smiled, thinking about the irony. "To be fair, he doesn't exactly have access to Solarian linguistic databases." She paused. "Also—fun fact—the ancient Diviner language overlaps heavily with old Solarian script."
Reone raised an eyebrow. "I don't yet know how," he said, "but I get the feeling it's going somewhere."
"It is," Nova assured him. "So—according to the scroll, the Trident doesn't just respond to magic. It locks onto a person's resonance signature—specifically the emotions it senses most strongly. Usually from whoever's holding it."
Lyrian listened intently.
"It amplifies that resonance," Nova continued, "by a massive amount. And then releases it—either through the Trident itself or directly through the holder's body."
A brief silence followed.
"And this helps us how?" Primi asked flatly.
"It doesn't," Nova admitted. "Not directly. I just thought it was important to know."
Mia crossed her arms. "Can we get to the part that actually helps us now?"
Nova faltered, trying not to feel put down, but nodded. "Yeah. Right. Sorry."
Lyrian didn't dare look at Mia during this, afraid of what everyone might see—the dissaproving expression written across her face.
"So," Nova went on, "the temple itself is layered with traps."
"Traps?" Diamond echoed, instantly alarmed.
"Yes—but I've figured out a way around them," Nova said quickly. "Mostly. There are symbols we need to watch for. I'll explain later."
Reone nodded. "Okay. What else?"
"There's a riddle," Nova said. "About where the Trident is inside the temple. I haven't cracked it yet."
Sire straightened. "Read it," he said eagerly. "I'm good at riddles."
Nova studied him for a second, unconvinced—but recited it anyway.
"Seek power not where voices gather,
but where the powerful become forever silent.
There it lies."
The room went quiet.
Sire repeated the last line under his breath.
"Well, power obviously means the Trident," he said.
"We got that part, genius," Reone said. "What about the rest of the riddle?"
Sire frowned, thinking about it. "Yeah. I've got nothing."
Nova wasn't surprised by this.
"What about you Anika? Your ancestors were the ones who came up with this,"she asked.
Anika shook her head. "I'm just as confused as you guys."
Lyrian tried turning it over in her mind—voices, silence, journeys—but nothing settled.
"It's not making any sense to me either," she said finally.
Reone let out a frustrated breath. "This is so typical for us."
"To me, this riddle sounds more like a warning than a riddle," Seren said carefully.
"Yeah—'where the powerful are forever silent,'" Diamond agreed, hugging her arms. "Not exactly reassuring."
"No," Nova said, shaking her head. "It is a riddle. We're probably just missing the context."
Lyrian looked thoughtful. "Maybe it'll make more sense once we're actually there."
Reone let out a slow breath. "Yeah… maybe."
For a moment, no one spoke. They weren't actually sure of anything.
Then Mia straightened.
"But whatever happens, we have to make sure we get the Trident before Damon," she said.
"And we use it against him," Anika added.
"Exactly. They won't stand a chance," Mia said.
Lyrian's stomach dropped at her words.
Images from her nightmare flashed through her mind—fire, screams, a weapon glowing with too much power.
"We can't," she said quickly. "King Arnab told us it's too dangerous. And we promised him we wouldn't use it to fight."
"We also promised him to keep his daughter safe," Reone shot back. "When Damon is attacking us, that's what we do."
"Or we use our powers and weapons, which we've been using all along. We don't need the Trident."
Mia shrugged.
"Fine. I'd rather take care of Damon on my own anyway."
Lyrian frowned, unease curling in her stomach. She didn't like the sound of that at all.
"Come on, Mia. We're a team," she said, trying to keep her voice steady. "We do this together."
"We are doing it together," Mia replied coolly. "You go after the Sisterhood and the Trident. I go after Damon."
Lyrian's voice sharpened despite herself. "That sounds a lot like revenge."
The room fell silent, the weight of the word hanging between them.
Mia's eyes narrowed.
"So what if it is?" she snapped. "If it gets the job done, why do you care?"
Lyrian stiffened. "Because we're talking about killing someone—and you're being far too casual about it."
Mia let out a short, humorless laugh.
"My wedding was attacked. My husband is in a coma. Don't call this casual."
Lyrian stepped closer, lowering her voice, trying to reach her. "This is changing you, Mia. And I'm worried."
Mia shrugged her off. "I'm fine."
Lyrian glanced around the room for help, searching faces. "Guys,say something."
No one answered. Seren only pressed her lips together, looking away.
Lyrian's hopeful gaze slid to Reone.
He hesitated, jaw tight, eyes conflicted. Then he spoke, voice hardening.
"He killed Varel. He put Rhys in a coma. Damon has to pay."
Lyrian jaw tightened at his answer.
"I want justice too," she said. "But not like this.Doing the right thing for the wrong reasons makes it wrong. Mia, Instead of,how did you put it, 'burning him alive' we could just arrest him."
"Not good enough,"Mia said with an edge, emotion flickering dangerously close to the surface.
Lyrian opened her mouth to protest but Mia cut her off.
"What the heck going on with you? You're supposed to be my friend,Lyrian and Rhys's friend. You supposed to be on my side."
"Im just trying to make sure you don't do something you'll regret here,Mia. I am on your side," Lyrian said, barely above a whisper.
"Well, it doesn't feel like it," Mia replied, already turning away.
"Mia—come on,wait," Lyrian called.
She didn't stop.
Reone followed after her.
"Reone," Lyrian said, catching his hand. "You too?"
"This time, Lyrian, you're wrong," he said, pulling free.
They walked out of the room, leaving Lyrian standing there alone. She barely had time to exhale out her feelings when—
Something slammed into the jet.
The entire craft lurched violently. Lyrian stumbled as the floor shifted beneath her feet.
Anika screamed.
Metal groaned somewhere deep within the hull, a sickening, twisting sound. Warning lights flared to life as alarms began to blare.
"What's was that?" Primi shouted.
No one, could answer him,they were too busy holding on for dear life.
Lyrian looked at the windshield and saw four figures in the air that her blood run cold.
It was Damon and the Sisterhood.
"Oh,no,"she whispered.