The hall did not explode into movement.
But the panic was still there.
Spread out.
Short breaths.
Trembling hands.
Some survivors had curled themselves against the stone walls.
Others clutched pieces of bread as if they could protect them.
No one approached the door.
No one wanted to be the first to stand between that door and the rest of the chamber.
Telvaris remained standing at the entrance.
Immobile.
The flickering candlelight touched the wounds on his torso.
Dried blood.
Skin marked by combat.
But nothing in his posture resembled a wounded man.
Behind him, the darkness of the corridor still concealed the figure who had spoken.
Lyra felt every eye in the chamber on her.
Her bandaged arm throbbed.
But she remained standing.
Her fingers opened and closed once.
Controlled breathing.
Then she took a step forward.
Small.
But firm.
Her blue eyes first lifted toward the darkness behind Telvaris.
Her voice came out clear.
Without tremor.
"You say you didn't come as enemies."
Some people in the hall held their breath.
Lyra tilted her head slightly.
Her gaze now hard.
"Answer me one thing."
A short pause.
The silence grew heavier.
"Why exactly should I trust you?"
No answer came immediately.
Lyra then turned her face.
Slowly.
Her blue eyes fixed themselves on Telvaris.
The fury there was clear now.
Not shouted.
But sharp.
"And why should I trust him?"
Some survivors exchanged nervous glances.
Lyra continued.
Her voice steady.
Without backing down.
"A man who betrayed his own friends."
The entire hall seemed to wait for the answer.
The silence that followed Lyra's words weighed over the chamber like wet stone.
No one spoke.
Some survivors still remained pressed against the walls.
Others simply watched, unmoving, as if any motion might provoke something worse.
Then the footsteps returned.
Coming from the darkness of the corridor.
One.
Then another.
Slow.
Without any hurry.
The figure who had spoken emerged behind Telvaris.
For an instant, only the outline appeared against the dark background of the corridor.
Then she stepped forward.
The unstable candlelight began to touch her body as she walked.
The black clothing she wore was not common fabric.
Structured like a ritual armor.
Dark plates integrated into flexible layers that adjusted to the body's movement with silent precision. Nothing there seemed decorative. Every segment looked designed to protect without restricting.
When she passed beside Telvaris, something in the air changed.
It was not a sound.
Nor wind.
But the space itself seemed to grow denser.
Some people held their breath without realizing it.
Others felt their shoulders stiffen.
It was as if the space inside the chamber had shrunk a few centimeters.
She stepped fully into the candlelight.
The gazes that had been fixed on Telvaris now turned to her.
And remained there.
Hair in shades of dark blue and violet fell to shoulder height, slightly wavy.
Some irregular strands framed her face naturally — a practical cut, made without any aesthetic concern, only functionality.
The face was young.
Delicate.
But there was something in the gaze that did not match youth.
The deep-blue eyes seemed to absorb the light around them. Inside them, nearly invisible abyssal symbols moved slowly, like ancient marks carved into the iris itself.
Her pale skin carried marks scattered across the body.
Incomplete runes.
Broken ritual circles.
They were not tattoos.
Nor ornaments.
Even those who did not understand magic could feel it.
Seals.
Containment.
Some survivors instinctively stepped back.
Others simply stared.
Confused.
Because the fear was there.
But there was something else too.
Something difficult to name.
It was like looking at something forbidden… and at the same time sacred.
As if they were seeing a saint walking inside a place that did not deserve her presence.
No sound accompanied her steps.
She simply advanced a few meters into the chamber.
And then stopped.
The candlelight trembled around her.
Lyra had not moved.
Her blue eyes remained fixed on the newcomer.
Her body still tense.
Prepared.
But this time she did not attack.
She simply stared.
For a moment, no one moved.
The candles kept trembling along the stone walls.
Long shadows crossed the hall.
The newcomer did not speak.
Her deep-blue eyes simply moved across the room.
Slowly.
Observing the faces.
The wounded.
The marks of chains.
The exhausted bodies scattered across the floor.
Her gaze carried no judgment.
Only… quiet recognition.
Like someone observing something already expected.
Then the eyes stopped.
On the other side of the chamber.
Near the young man who had awakened.
The child was still sitting on the stone floor.
Small.
Motionless.
The red eyes remained open.
Watching.
This time, not Telvaris.
Nor Lyra.
Her.
The entire hall seemed distant in that moment.
As if the rest of the world had moved into the background.
The abyssal symbols in the woman's eyes flickered for a brief moment.
Almost imperceptibly.
The child did not blink.
Only held the gaze.
One instant passed.
Perhaps two.
Then the child looked away.
The woman still kept her gaze in that direction for a few seconds.
The abyssal symbols in her eyes slowly faded until they disappeared again into the blue depth.
As if confirming something only she understood.
Then she turned.
Her deep-blue eyes met Lyra again.
When she spoke, her voice was calm.
Deep.
"Forgive the late introduction."
A brief pause.
"My name is Edda. I imagine you have already heard of me."
Lyra did not hesitate.
The answer came firm.
"Prince Éon said you were dead."
Her gaze did not soften.
"That's what he told me during training."
Near the entrance, Telvaris reacted.
Almost nothing.
Just a small movement on his face.
Edda noticed.
A faint smile touched her lips.
"Just like Éon…"
A small pause.
"It seems… he and I walk the same path."
Lyra remained silent.
The tension still hovered in the hall.
Edda observed it for a moment.
Then continued.
"But I believe that is not the most important thing right now."
She took a small step forward.
The candlelight ran across the dark plates of the ritual armor.
"You asked why you should trust me."
Her deep-blue eyes remained fixed on Lyra.
"Knowing that I was with Éon before coming here… may already be reason enough."
Silence filled the chamber again.
Lyra kept her gaze firm on Edda.
For a moment, she seemed to measure every word that had been said.
Then she spoke.
"Then tell me something."
A small pause.
Her eyes narrowed slightly.
"Why would the prince send this man?"
Her gaze did not move from Edda.
But everyone knew who she meant.
Telvaris remained motionless near the entrance.
Edda answered without hurry.
"Because before meeting you… there was something he needed to do."
Her voice remained calm.
"Something I would risk saying that no one but him could accomplish."
Lyra held her gaze for a few seconds.
Long ones.
As if weighing those words.
Then, slowly, her body relaxed.
Her guard lowered a little.
Not much.
Just enough to show she had made a decision.
Before speaking, however, she cast one last look at Telvaris.
Cold.
Her voice came out low.
But hard as iron.
"Don't fool yourself."
Her blue eyes fixed on him.
"I will never trust you."
A short silence.
"At the first wrong sign…"
She slightly raised her bandaged arm.
"Even if I lose both arms…"
Her gaze did not waver.
"I will kill you."
Telvaris held her gaze for a few seconds.
No reaction.
No answer.
Then Edda turned.
Without saying anything more.
She passed by Telvaris.
The black ritual armor sliding through the unstable candlelight.
Telvaris still looked at Lyra for a moment.
Long enough for everyone in the room to notice.
Then he turned.
And followed Edda in silence.
The chamber door remained open for a few seconds.
Until the footsteps of the two disappeared into the corridor.
Lyra let the air out slowly.
Then she turned to the survivors.
Her eyes moved across the wounded faces.
Exhausted.
Frightened.
But alive.
Her voice echoed through the chamber again.
"Those who can still walk…"
She pointed to the weaker ones.
"Help those who cannot."
A small pause.
Her gaze softened just a little.
"Rejoice."
A short pause.
"It seems the gods have heard your prayers."
The silence that followed was no longer the same as before.
Now there was something different in it.
Hope.
The first survivors began to move.
Slowly.
As if they still expected someone to shout for them to stop.
No one shouted.
Some supported one another.
Others carried those who could no longer stand.
Lyra watched as they crossed the door of the underground chamber.
One by one.
The darkness of the corridor swallowed them as they passed.
Footsteps echoed against the damp stone as they advanced a few meters ahead.
Lyra still remained standing for a moment.
Her eyes moved.
First to the young man.
Then to the child with red eyes.
"We should leave as well."
The young man nodded discreetly.
Then began to follow her.
The child walked right behind.
Lyra turned her gaze to the dark corridor.
And began to walk.
After a few steps, the stairs appeared ahead.
When the first ones reached the exit… they stopped.
No one spoke.
Some simply lifted their faces.
The rain was falling.
Cold.
Steady.
After so long trapped in the dark, the sound felt almost unreal.
Some stretched out their hands.
Letting the water touch their skin.
As if they needed to confirm that it was real.
Then they began to look around.
And the silence returned.
The city was destroyed.
Broken stones.
Houses open like carcasses.
Deep marks cut across the ground like wounds.
Some still released vapor in the cold rain.
Farther ahead…
something impossible dominated the skyline.
The wall of gold.
It no longer represented the pride of the Eastern Kingdom.
A colossal body of ice rose in its place.
Crystallized layers had swallowed the towers.
The battlements.
The banners.
Everything frozen inside a translucent mass that reflected the gray light of the sky.
Rain fell in that direction…
But before touching the ice, the drops seemed to change.
Breaking apart into small white flakes.
Like snow.
Some survivors simply stared.
Others began to cry.
Lyra stopped at the top of the staircase.
Her blue eyes remained fixed on the frozen wall.
For a few seconds.
Long ones.
The cold wind crossed the ruins.
Moving torn pieces of cloth.
Carrying the smell of wet stone and ash.
Then she looked away.
Farther ahead, Edda and Telvaris were already walking toward the castle.
Silent.
Without looking back.
Lyra took a deep breath.
The frozen wall still dominated everything around.
Then she turned her eyes away from it.
"Let's go."
And she began to walk.