At Damon's ruined fortress, the air is thick with tension and faint traces of dark magic. The Sisterhood exchange pleased looks when they see only two of their enemies.
"Only Lyrian and Reone?" Veryra smirks. "I was expecting the whole cavalry. Not that im complaining.These two will do just fine."
Her hands glow a dark red, ready to strike, but Caelynn grabs her wrist.
"Don't waste your energy, Veryra," Caelynn warns coolly. "Let's use our strength sparingly. We might need it for our future plans."
Nivara is in agreement.
"Lyrian and Reone are no pushovers either. We might have the numbers, but at our current power level… the fight could go either way."
Veryra groans in annoyance.
"Fine. What do you geniuses suggest then?"
Caelynn smiles slyly.
"How about we play some good old-fashioned mind games with Damon's guests?"
Veryra grins despite herself. "I like the sound of that.I'm listening."
But Nivara fidgets, glancing toward the fortress interior.
"You two handle that. I'll go find Damon."
Her sisters shoot her looks.
"Ew, you're so besotted," Veryra says.
"Am not," her little sister says defensively. "Look, if he dies, we can kiss our plans goodbye."
Having made her case, Nivara then flies off.
Caelynn rolls her eyes.
"She's been such a bore lately."
"I know," Veryra agrees. "But anyway—enough talk. Let's have some fun."
"We need to separate them first," Caelynn says.
"Leave that to me." Veryra smirks, summoning a gust of wind that snakes through the corridors.
After a while, Caelynn adds her own tricky little touch to the mist.An illusion spell.
Lyrian and Reone were in for a terrible time, she thought with a smile.
LYRIAN
Lyrian and Reone moved cautiously through the fortress, every step echoing against the cracked stone walls. The air was thick with dust and the faint tang of dark magic.
Without warning, a sudden gust of wind tore down the corridor, whipping loose soil and debris into a swirling, blinding storm.
"Where did this come from?" Reone shouted, shielding his face.
"I don't know!" Lyrian yelled back, squinting through the grit, her heart racing.
The wind grew stronger, pushing against them with bone-jarring force. Dust and pebbles pelted their skin, scratching and stinging. Lyrian reached out instinctively, trying to grab Reone—but the storm was relentless.
"It's so strong!" Reone's voice cut through the roar of the wind—but a second later, a violent blast lifted him off his feet, dragging him down the corridor like a leaf in a hurricane.
"Reone!" Lyrian cried, lunging forward—but the soil-laden gust blocked her sight completely. She could hear him calling, but the sound distorted, broken by the howling air.
Panic clawed at her chest. The corridor felt impossibly vast and empty, and the thought that she was alone sent a cold shiver through her.
No… this is exactly what Damon wants me to think, she realized, clenching her fists.
Yet… something about the wind, the way it twisted and roared around her… it felt too familiar.And not Damon.
But it can't be, she thinks. The Sisterhood are dead.
Then—voices. Whispering her name.
"Who's there?" she demands.
No reply. Only giggles echoing faintly.
"Damon, if you're trying to scare me—just know it's not going to work!" she says, her voice trembling slightly.
"We're not Damon," says a familiar cold voice.
"Have you forgotten us, Lyrian?" another asks sweetly.
"I think she has, sister," says a third.
Three ghostly figures materialize before her—the Sisterhood, pale and transparent, eyes glowing faintly.
"Hello, Lyrian," they say in unison.
Lyrian stumbles back, horrified.
"You're supposed to be dead!"
"We are," Veryra whispers from behind her, cold breath brushing her ear. "You murdered us, remember?"
"It wasn't murder!" Lyrian protests. "It was self-defense! You left us no choice!"
"That's not true!" Nivara snarls. "You could've spared us, found another way—but you wanted us dead, because you're monsters!"
"No!" Lyrian screams, covering her ears as their voices echo around her.
******
Meanwhile, Reone moves through the mist, cursing under his breath.
"Stupid fog. This has probably Damon's doing."
He presses forward blindly, calling out, "Lyrian!"
A familiar, weary voice answers.
But it's not Lyrian.
"Reone…"
He freezes.
No, it couldn't be…
"Varek?" he says, turning toward the sound.
The old man's ghostly figure steps out of the mist, eyes sorrowful.
"You let me die, Reone. How could you?"
Reone's grip tightens on his sword but he just closes his eyes.
"This isn't real. It's Damon's trick."
"You were like a son to me," Varek continues. "And yet you left me to die."
Reone's jaw clenches. "Stop it."
"Didn't I matter to you?"
"Of course you did!" Reone shouts.
"Then why didn't you save me?" Varek's voice echoes in his skull. "Looks like I was wrong to rely on someone so weak."
Reone shakes his head, backing away—only for another voice to join in.
"I was wrong about you too."
He turns and sees… Rhys.
"Rhys?" Reone whispers, horrified.
"You let me die," Rhys says bitterly. "You were too distracted by Lyrian to protect me. Damon killed me because you failed."
"And me," adds Varek.
He falls to his knees, clutching his head.
"No…"
Reone's sword slips from his hand.
"NO!" he screams as the ghosts close in.
The corridors of Damon's fortress were eerily silent, the mist Veryra had conjured curling along the walls like living smoke. Nivara's boots echoed faintly as she flew through the shadows, looking for Damon.
When she finally found him, her heart dropped. Damon lay sprawled against a stone column, blood darkening the floor beneath him. His breathing was shallow, his eyes half-lidded.
"Damon!" she gasped, rushing to his side. "Oh, no, no, no…"
She knelt beside him, her usual confidence replaced by panic.
"You're in bad shape," she said softly, brushing his hair from his face.
His eyes flickered open just enough to meet hers.
"Nivara… where are your sisters?" he rasped, his voice barely a whisper.
"They're… taking care of Lyrian and Reone," she answered quickly.
He nodded weakly, then frowned.
"And why… why aren't you with them?"
Nivara hesitated, suddenly flustered.
"Because…" she started, looking away. "Because I wanted to check up on you. I… care about you."
Her voice cracked slightly at the end, surprising even herself.
Something cunning flickered in Damon's eyes but Nivara didn't see it. He smiled cutely at her and reached out a trembling, blood-streaked hand and took hers.
"And for that…" he murmured, "…I care about you too."
Then his grip went slack. His eyes closed.
"Damon?" Nivara whispered. She shook him gently. "Damon! Wake up!"
No response. Panic surged through her. She pressed a hand to his face. He was fading fast.
For a long moment, she just stared at him—not as a tool for power or their dark alliance—but as him.
"I won't let you die," she whispered fiercely.
She closed her eyes and focused, channeling her own energy into him. Resonance flowed between their hands, red light flooding the dark room. It hurt and weakened her—but she didn't care.
All she cared about was the image in her mind, one of the two of them, together, forever.
From their hiding place, Veryra and Caelynn watched with smug satisfaction as Lyrian and Reone got tormented by their own illusions.
Lyrian screamed into the fog, clutching her head as ghostly versions of the Sisterhood closed in.
Reone knelt nearby, haunted by phantom figures whispering blame into his ears.
Veryra smirked.
"Well, that didn't take long."
Caelynn folded her arms, pleased.
"They're done. The illusions are deep—their minds won't find a way out easily."
"Good. Our work here is done," Veryra said, flicking her hair. "Let's go check on Nivara."
The two sisters turned away, their laughter fading as they left the chamber.
Lyrian stood trembling in the swirling air, the spectral Sisterhood circling her like vultures.
"You killed us," Nivara's ghost hissed.
"You wanted us gone," Veryra taunted.
"You enjoyed it," Caelynn added cruelly.
Lyrian pressed her hands to her ears.
"Stop it! I didn't—"
Her voice faltered. For a moment, guilt clawed at her heart. But then another thought pierced through—Reone.
Where was he? Was he seeing this too? Was he okay?
The thought of him suffering consumed all her other thoughts.
That fear—that need to protect him—grew stronger than the illusion's hold. She lowered her hands, eyes fierce.
"I need to find Reone," she told herself.
"Are you sure you won't kill him too, murderer?" Caelynn taunts.
"I would never hurt Reone," she said, her voice steady. "And you're not real."
The ghosts tilted their heads, smiling eerily.
"We're real enough to destroy you."
"You can't destroy me with lies," Lyrian snapped. "I fought to protect my friends—and you know what, I'd do it again!"
A pulse of energy radiated from her. Music—soft but powerful—filled the air, weaving through the mist. The spectral Sisterhood screamed, their forms dissolving into smoke.
The fog around her thinned, and for the first time, she could breathe freely.
"Reone…" she whispered. "Hold on. I'm coming."
She ran through the corridor, following the faint echo of his voice.
REONE
Reone stood surrounded by the ghosts of Varek and Rhys, their faces twisted in accusation.
"You let us die," Rhys said coldly.
"You failed," Varek added. "You were too weak, just like I always knew you were."
Reone clenched his fists, his heart pounding. But then he realized something important.
"Rhys wouldn't say that."
The phantoms stepped closer.
"You were distracted," Rhys said. "You cared more about her than your duty."
That struck something in him—but not guilt. Anger.
"You think I regret caring about her?" he shouted. "You think I'd rather be the soldier who never felt anything? No."
He stepped forward, glaring through the mist.
"Rhys trusted me, and I know Mia and the others wouldn't let him die. And Varek—you taught me that strength isn't about never falling. It's about getting back up."
The ghosts faltered, their eyes flickering with uncertainty.
Reone raised his sword, his voice steady.
"You're not real. You're just an illusion trying to break me."
With one decisive swing, his blade cut through them—and they vanished into light.
He exhaled shakily, lowering his sword.
"Nice try, Damon."
Though shaken by their words, he pushed it aside and started running—Lyrian needed him.
The mist started fading completely as Lyrian kept walking. She turned a corner—and there Reone was.
"Reone!" she cried, relief flooding her voice.
He looked up, just as startled, then smiled—a real one, full of warmth.
"Lyrian…"
She ran to him, and he caught her in his arms. For a long moment, they just held each other—no words, no magic, just the steady beat of two hearts that had fought their way back together.
"I thought...I might never find you," she whispered.
"Not a chance," he murmured back, resting his forehead against hers. "Damon tried, but he couldn't keep me away."
"Or break us," Lyrian added.
The last traces of Caelynn's wind faded completely, leaving the two of them standing side by side—bruised, shaken, but unbroken.
But then something occurs to Lyrian and she slowly pulls away.
"What?" Reone asks her.
"This wind...the illusion and the things they knew...it feels like the work of other people, not Damon," Lyrian says.
Reone looks at her, confusion etched in his features.
"I don't understand. If it wasn't Damon, who else could it be?" he asks.
At that moment, they hear voices and become still, suddenly alert.
An unpleasant feeling crawls up Lyrian's spine.
Those voices... it couldn't be...
Without saying another word, Lyrian follows the direction of the voice.
"Where are you going, Lyrian?" Reone whispers, but she ignores him, determined to ascertain her suspicions.
Reone follows her.
They arrive before the door of the room from where the voices were coming. Lyrian stealthily peeks inside.
She almost revealed their presence by gasping at the three faces she thought she'd never have to encounter again—the Sisterhood.
And they were actually alive this time.