Riel sat by a dying campfire, his stomach growling.
Lyra had gone scouting again, leaving him alone. The world here looked beautiful but deadly — every shadow seemed to hide teeth.
He glanced at his reflection in a puddle.
Same face, same eyes. But something felt different. He didn't know how long he'd been here — a day? Two? Time felt strange.
When Lyra returned, she tossed a bundle of herbs toward him. "Eat those. They'll keep your energy up."
He frowned. "They taste awful."
"Good," she smirked. "If it's bitter, it's probably healing you."
He forced a small laugh — his first since arriving. But then his expression darkened. "Lyra… do people here ever… disappear? Like suddenly show up out of nowhere?"
Her smile faded. "Sometimes. They call them Players."
"Players?"
"People who fall from the sky with strange magic. They have something called a System that gives them powers. But…" She looked at him curiously. "You don't have that, do you?"
He shook his head. "No."
"Then maybe that's why you're still alive," she said softly.
Riel blinked. "What do you mean?"
Lyra turned toward the dark forest. "Because the System always takes something back."
Her voice carried a tone Riel didn't understand — sorrow, maybe fear. But before he could ask more, she stood. "Get some rest. We move at dawn."
As she walked away, Riel looked up at the twin moons.
"Brother… are you still out there?"
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