The castle gate was open.
Torches burned along the inner courtyard.
Survivors entered in silence behind Lyra.
Some walking.
Others being carried.
Rain still ran down the dark stones of the courtyard.
The interior of the castle had turned into an improvised refuge.
The stone floor was covered with cloaks, torn cloth, and pieces of fabric used as makeshift bedding.
Dozens of survivors rested there.
Some slept.
Others simply lay there, staring at the ceiling like people still trying to understand what had happened.
When Lyra entered the hall, a few faces lifted.
The silence lasted only an instant.
Then the footsteps came.
Children ran.
A girl crossed the hall stumbling over her own legs before throwing herself against a woman sitting near the wall.
"Mom!"
The crying started immediately.
Another boy ran toward a wounded man who was trying to stand.
The man embraced him tightly, as if letting go might make him disappear.
More voices rose.
Crying.
Broken laughter.
Some survivors began to stand, searching among the newcomers for familiar faces.
The hall, which had been quiet before, now pulsed with reunions and desperate embraces.
Amid the embraces and tears, some gazes began to drift.
A man helping lift a wounded survivor paused for a moment.
His gaze fixed on Edda.
He did not know exactly why.
But something about that woman made the air feel too heavy to breathe.
Farther away, an old woman discreetly made the sign of the gods when she saw the red-eyed child standing behind Lyra.
And one of the survivors passing by Telvaris simply changed direction.
Lyra watched it all in silence.
Behind her, the black-haired young man had stopped.
The red-eyed child as well.
Both simply watched.
Motionless.
Lyra then looked over her shoulder.
"And you?"
The young man did not answer.
Neither did the child.
Their silence contrasted with the growing noise around them.
Lyra let out a small sigh.
She looked at the crowded hall again.
"Well…"
Her eyes moved over the scattered survivors.
"It seems there were more people trapped than we imagined."
A small pause.
"Maybe some families will still show up."
That was when a strange silence passed through part of the hall.
Not complete.
There was still crying.
Still voices.
But near Lyra, the noise seemed to lessen.
Light footsteps sounded behind her.
Calm.
Controlled.
Lyra turned.
The man approaching stopped a few steps away.
His skin was pale, almost colorless, with a faint grayish tone that became more evident under the torchlight.
Ice-blond hair reached down to his neck, fine strands that seemed to move gently even without wind.
His eyes were soft green.
But there was something different in them.
A nearly imperceptible turquoise glow pulsed in the irises, as if responding to invisible air currents.
His clothes were worn.
Torn in some places.
Improvised bandages covered part of his torso and shoulder.
Small wounds marked his face.
Even so, his posture remained calm.
Observant.
He inclined his head slightly.
"It's been some time since our last meeting, Lyra."
The tone of his voice was calm.
Almost casual.
Lyra looked him up and down.
Slowly.
Then answered:
"Things don't seem to have been easy for you, Zeph."
A small smile appeared on his lips.
Subtle.
"I'm afraid I could say the same about you."
Lyra crossed her arms.
"The last time we saw each other, we were marching toward the Eastern Viscounty."
His gaze moved briefly.
First to the black-haired young man.
Then to the red-eyed child.
For an instant, he seemed to evaluate them.
Then his eyes moved farther ahead.
Edda and Telvaris were crossing the hall at that moment, walking among the survivors.
Zeph looked back at Lyra.
The smile disappeared.
"Perhaps it would be better if we continued this conversation somewhere more private."
Lyra looked at Zeph for another moment.
Then she looked away.
First to the black-haired young man.
Then to the red-eyed child.
Both were still standing there.
Watching everything in silence.
Lyra let out a small sigh.
"Find a place."
The young man raised his gaze slightly.
Lyra continued:
"Sit down. Eat something."
A short pause.
"You're safe here."
Neither of them answered.
But the young man nodded discreetly.
The child simply kept watching.
Lyra did not insist.
She turned back to Zeph.
"Let's go."
Zeph inclined his head slightly.
He began walking.
She followed him.
They crossed the hall while the noise of people reuniting continued behind them.
Crying.
Broken laughter.
People calling names.
Some survivors were still searching among the newcomers for familiar faces.
Lyra did not look back.
They passed through a stone arch that led deeper into the castle.
The corridors were narrow.
Lit by torches fixed to the walls.
The sound of rain still echoed faintly outside.
Their footsteps resonated on the stone floor.
They turned down two corridors.
Then a third.
Until Zeph pushed open a heavy wooden door.
The room on the other side was small.
A fireplace burned against the far wall.
Heat filled the space.
In the center of the room there was a bed.
On it, a woman lay.
Her skin was cold and pale.
Long silver hair spread across the pillow.
Part of her face seemed slightly frozen.
As if the cold had not yet completely left her body.
Lyra stopped beside the bed.
She watched the woman for a few seconds.
The cold still seemed trapped in her skin.
As if part of the technique that had raised the walls still lingered there.
Then Lyra spoke:
"The walls."
Her eyes moved to Zeph.
He stepped closer to the bed.
Stopped beside it.
His hands folded calmly before his body.
"Yes."
He observed the frozen face of the woman for a moment.
Then continued:
"Master Karna and I had warned about the risks of that technique."
"Forcing the environment itself to obey at that level demands a price."
Lyra did not take her eyes off the woman.
"Will she survive?"
Zeph inclined his head slightly.
"Yes."
He rested one hand on the edge of the bed.
"There is no immediate cause for concern."
His eyes returned to Lyra.
"Even so, I fear the recovery may take some time."
Lyra remained silent.
The crackling of the fireplace filled the room for a few seconds.
Then Zeph breathed slowly.
"But that's not why I brought you here."
Lyra raised her gaze.
"I know."
Her eyes narrowed.
"I have no idea how Prince Éon manages to trust that man."
Zeph let out a small sigh.
"I believe the prince's trust is not exactly directed at him."
He ran a hand along the edge of the bed before continuing.
"But toward that woman."
Lyra frowned slightly.
Zeph continued, with the same calm tone:
"After all… if it weren't for her, Neriah would probably be dead by now."
Lyra remained silent.
Zeph inclined his head slightly.
"And possibly me as well."
A small pause.
"As well as Prince Éon himself."
Lyra's eyes narrowed.
"What exactly are you saying?"
Zeph looked away for a moment.
As if organizing his thoughts.
"I don't know exactly what she is."
He looked back at Lyra.
"But I know she was the one who located the survivors."
A small pause.
"She was also the one who guided them to the castle."
Zeph's gaze moved briefly to the woman on the bed.
"Including Lys and Iaso."
Lyra remained still.
Her eyes narrowed slightly.
Zeph continued in the same calm tone:
"Curiously… all of that happened after she spoke with Prince Éon."
A small pause.
"I don't know what was said between them."
"But I know how to recognize an agreement."
The crackling of the fireplace filled the silence again.
Zeph then concluded:
"And whatever that agreement is…"
"…it was enough for the prince himself to accept Lord Telvaris."
Lyra stared at him.
Her gaze hardened.
"I can't accept that."
Zeph remained silent.
Lyra continued:
"After he brought me here…"
Her breathing grew heavier.
"I spent days being tortured."
Her fingers slowly closed.
"Serving as entertainment for a lunatic."
She stepped forward.
"And now you want us to fight alongside the man who handed me over?"
The silence in the room seemed to grow heavier.
Lyra then asked:
"And what did Karna think of that?"
A short pause.
"If he's not in the castle…"
She looked back at Zeph.
"I imagine he's trying to convince the prince to change his mind."
Zeph did not answer.
His gaze dropped for a moment.
The expression on his face changed.
Something heavy.
Sad.
Lyra noticed immediately.
"Zeph…"
He remained silent for a few seconds.
Then said quietly:
"Master Karna…"
A short pause.
"…is dead."
The crackling of the fireplace seemed louder in that moment.
Lyra's eyes widened.
The fury appeared almost immediately.
"You're telling me he's dead…"
Her voice rose.
"While that man walks around freely?"
She turned abruptly.
Started walking toward the door.
Zeph stepped forward and grabbed her arm.
She stopped.
"Does Prince Éon know about this?"
Zeph answered without hesitation:
"Yes."
Her eyes returned to him.
Zeph continued:
"Do you understand what that means?"
A small pause.
"If the prince accepted this even after Master Karna's death…"
His gaze remained firm.
"Then this goes far beyond personal feelings."
She pulled her arm away.
"Let me go, Zeph."
Her eyes were full of fury.
Zeph released her arm.
"How can you accept something like this?"
He watched her for a moment.
Then answered calmly:
"Because it was exactly for situations like this that Master Karna and Lady Tirésias trained me."
"To never allow my feelings to cloud my decisions."
A brief pause.
"And I believe you were trained for that as well."
Lyra turned and walked to the door.
Her hand had already touched the handle when his voice echoed through the room again.
"There's something else you need to know."
She stopped.
She did not fully turn.
Only cast a sideways glance.
Zeph continued:
"That woman… Edda."
Lyra's eyes narrowed slightly.
"She met with envoys from the Central Kingdom."
The crackling of the fireplace continued to fill the room.
Zeph continued, in the same calm tone:
"Among them was a mage named Brígida."
A small pause.
"Before handing over Lys and Iaso… she left a message."
Lyra remained motionless.
Zeph then repeated the words calmly:
"A bond between a witch and her partner is unlike any other."
"Once broken, it cannot be restored."
A small pause.
Then he concluded:
"All the love within that bond will turn into hatred."
"And that hatred will end only with the death of the guilty."
His eyes narrowed.
Zeph then spoke quietly:
"I believe you understand the weight of that statement."
Lyra remained silent for a few seconds.
Then she opened the door.
"I want to know how they reacted."
And she left the room.
The door closed slowly behind her.
Zeph remained standing there.
His eyes still fixed on the place where Lyra's figure had disappeared.
For a moment, he did not move.
He only listened.
The crackling of the fireplace echoed through the silent room.