**Age 10 — Five Days After Council Meeting**
Lysara hasn't slept in thirty-six hours.
I know this because Kaela mentioned it, and when Kaela mentions something, it's because she's noticed it and decided it was worth saying. Kaela doesn't mention things casually. She's a warrior, not a gossip.
I find Lysara in the library's restricted section—the place where she spends most of her time these days. The archives are restricted not because they're dangerous, but because they contain records of void phenomena and curse research that Elder Stoneheart deemed too sensitive for casual reading.
Lysara isn't bound by such restrictions. She's the finest researcher in three settlements. The council trusts her judgment, and more importantly, she trusts her own judgment far more than she trusts theirs.
The table in front of her is chaos.
Books are stacked in careful piles—though "careful" is relative. Scrolls are unrolled and weighed down with stones. Papers are covered in Lysara's precise handwriting, but also in sketches and diagrams and mathematical notations that make my head hurt just looking at them.
And in the center of it all, Lysara sits with her head in her hands.
"You look terrible," I say, settling across from her.
"Thank you for that incredibly useful observation," she responds without looking up. "I'm sure my research will benefit greatly from your assessment of my appearance."
"Lysara—"
"Don't." She finally lifts her head, and I see what Kaela was concerned about. Lysara's silver eyes are rimmed with red. There are dark circles beneath them. Her hair, usually perfectly braided, is coming loose.
She looks like someone who's been fighting something for a very long time and is losing.
"I've made an error," she says quietly. "A significant one."
I move closer, examining the papers. They're covered in data—void corruption measurements from our expedition, cross-referenced with historical records, mapped against settlement locations.
"What kind of error?" I ask carefully.
"The kind that changes everything." Lysara takes a shaking breath. "In my analysis of void corruption patterns, I initially focused on the spread. Rate of expansion, affected area, density of corruption. Standard research metrics."
"Okay..."
"But then I noticed something. The corruption isn't spreading randomly. It's following lines." She pulls out a map, pointing to marked locations. "Look. The corruption sites form a pattern. Not circular expansion like natural phenomena. Geometric. Mathematical. Deliberate."
I study the map. She's right. The corruption sites connect almost like... like a web. Or a spell circle.
"What does that mean?" I ask, though I suspect I already know.
"It means the void corruption isn't random. It's not the cult creating it and spreading it. It's something else. Something larger." Lysara's voice drops. "It means the void itself might be *directing* the corruption. Or at least, something inside the void is."
The implications hit me like a physical force.
The cult isn't the primary threat. They're secondary. They're just trying to exploit something much larger that's already happening.
"How certain are you?" I ask.
"Seventy-eight percent. Maybe eighty. But Ren, that means—" Her voice cracks. "That means my entire understanding of the void threat is incomplete. That means I've been wrong about fundamental assumptions. That means there's something we don't understand at all, and it's moving across the continent creating corruption zones and we have *no idea* what it actually is or what it wants."
She stands abruptly, turning away from the table. Her hands clench into fists.
"I'm supposed to be the researcher. I'm supposed to understand these things. And instead, I'm discovering that everything I've studied, everything I've learned, everything I thought I knew about void mechanics is based on assumptions that might be completely incorrect."
"Lysara—"
"Do you understand what that means?" She whirls back to face me, and there are tears on her cheeks now. "It means I've been leading us wrong. We followed my analysis. We trusted my research. And if my research is fundamentally flawed, then all of our decisions have been based on incomplete information."
I stand and step toward her, but she holds up a hand.
"Don't. Don't comfort me. I don't deserve comfort. I deserve to acknowledge that I've failed at the one thing I'm supposed to be good at."
"You haven't failed," I say anyway. "You've discovered something new. That's the opposite of failure."
"It's failure to anticipate it," Lysara snaps. "A good researcher would have seen this pattern weeks ago. A competent researcher would have caught the mathematical inconsistencies in the spread patterns. But I was so confident in my initial analysis that I didn't look deeper until—"
She stops. She doesn't need to finish. We both know what happened. She looked deeper.
"Have you told anyone else?" I ask.
"No. I wanted to verify the data first. But the more I verify, the more I realize the original pattern is consistent. It's real. The void corruption is following an intentional geometric progression."
"Then we tell the council."
"And say what?" Lysara laughs, but it's bitter. "That everything we thought we knew about the void threat is wrong? That there's an intelligence directing it that we don't understand? That the cult might be the least of our problems?"
The library door opens quietly. Kaela enters, carrying a tray with food and water. She takes in the scene—Lysara with tears on her face, me looking concerned, the library in controlled chaos.
She sets the tray down carefully on a clear corner of the table.
"Lysara discovered something," I say quietly.
Kaela's amber eyes fix on Lysara with the intensity of someone assessing a threat. But the threat she's assessing isn't the void or the void corruption. It's Lysara's emotional state.
"Tell me," Kaela says simply.
So Lysara does. She walks Kaela through the patterns, the mathematical inconsistencies, the implications. Kaela listens with the focus of a warrior learning combat strategy—she absorbs every detail.
When Lysara finishes, Kaela sits down.
"Okay," she says. "So the void isn't random. It's directed. Which means either the cult is smarter than we thought, or there's something bigger we haven't identified yet."
"Both are bad," Lysara says flatly.
"Yeah. But at least now we know to be worried about it." Kaela reaches out and grabs Lysara's hand. "You didn't fail. You discovered something true. That's literally the opposite of failure."
"But I should have discovered it sooner—"
"Should have, could have, would have." Kaela's voice is sharp. "That's how regret works, and it's useless. What matters is what we do now that you've discovered it."
Lysara looks at their intertwined hands like she's not sure what to do with such direct emotional support. Lysara has spent years building walls—hiding her real feelings behind analysis and tsundere sharpness. Genuine kindness seems to confuse her.
"I'm scared," Lysara admits quietly. "I'm scared because I don't know what I don't know. I'm scared because this might be bigger than we can handle. I'm scared because if my analysis is wrong about this, what else am I wrong about?"
"That's valid," Kaela says. "Fear is appropriate. But fear doesn't stop us from acting. It just means we act scared."
She pulls Lysara closer, and after a moment of hesitation, Lysara lets herself be pulled. She settles against Kaela's shoulder, and Kaela holds her like she's holding something infinitely precious.
I move closer too, settling on Lysara's other side. She's trembling—not from cold, but from the release of hours of held tension.
"We tell the council," I say. "But we tell them carefully. We present it as a theory requiring verification, not as fact. That gives us time to understand what we're looking at before panic spreads."
"Elder Stoneheart should know," Lysara says, her voice muffled against Kaela's shoulder. "He's been waiting for something like this. He has contacts we don't. Resources."
"Tomorrow," Kaela says firmly. "After you've slept. You're not explaining mathematical conspiracy theories to the council while you're this emotionally exhausted. You'll be incoherent."
"I'm always coherent—"
"You're crying and doubting yourself. That's the opposite of coherent." Kaela adjusts her position to make Lysara more comfortable. "Tonight, you sleep. Tomorrow, we figure out how to handle this."
For a long moment, Lysara doesn't argue. She just lets herself be held.
"Thank you," she says finally. "Both of you. I needed—I didn't expect—"
"That's why we're here," I say. "Not just to fight void entities or complete missions. To be here for each other when research gets scary and everything we thought we knew becomes uncertain."
Kaela's hand finds mine over Lysara's shoulder. Our eyes meet for a moment, and something passes between us. Understanding. Commitment. The recognition that whatever comes next, we'll face it together.
**Morning — The Council Chambers**
Elder Stoneheart listens without interruption as Lysara presents her findings.
She's recovered some of her usual analytical composure, though I notice she grips the table edge slightly too hard. Kaela stands nearby, a quiet presence of support.
When Lysara finishes, Stoneheart is quiet for a long moment.
"Do you have the data?" he asks finally.
Lysara nods and produces her charts, maps, and calculations. Stoneheart examines them with the careful attention of someone who understands research methodology.
"This is excellent work," he says finally. "Disturbing, but excellent."
"You're not surprised," I observe.
"No." Stoneheart sets down the papers. "I've been tracking void phenomena for longer than you've been alive. I've always suspected the corruption was too organized to be truly random. But suspicion and proof are different things." He looks at Lysara. "You've provided proof."
"What do we do?" Kaela asks.
"We expand our research. We involve the Celestial Spires Academy—their theorists might have insights we're missing. We monitor the corruption sites more carefully, looking for new patterns." He pauses. "And we don't panic the council until we have more information."
"There's something directing the void," Lysara says carefully. "Something with intelligence or at least intention. That's significant."
"It is," Stoneheart agrees. "Which is why we need to understand it fully before we announce it to people who will only fear it." He meets Lysara's eyes. "You've done well, scholar. You've done exactly what researchers are meant to do—you've asked questions and found uncomfortable answers. That takes courage."
After we leave the council chamber, Lysara walks between Kaela and me, and I realize she's holding both our hands.
"What happens now?" she asks.
"Now we keep researching," Kaela says. "Now we keep looking. Now we try to figure out what's actually happening before everything gets worse."
"And if we can't?" Lysara asks quietly.
"Then at least we tried," I say. "And we tried together."
Lysara squeezes our hands a little tighter, and we walk through Verdwood's streets with something that feels like purpose, even though the truth is, we're all terrified.
Because now we know that the void threat is bigger than we thought.
And knowing that is somehow worse than not knowing.