Lira, acting as if Lucas's apology hadn't rattled her in the slightest, leaned forward slightly and added her own words.
"Mr. Barrik, sir," she said, her tone light but sincere, "I don't believe any of us have said it yet, but thank you for taking care of us—and the others. It really does mean a lot."
'Smart move,' Lucas thought, watching Barrik's reaction. 'Start with gratitude—might loosen his guard enough to talk.'
Barrik gave a short grunt—something between a laugh and a sigh. He rubbed the back of his neck, staring into the fire for a long beat.
"Don't thank me yet," he muttered, voice low. "Might come a day you wish I'd left you up in that cursed tower."
'Why?' The question rose unbidden in Lucas's mind.
The words slipped out rough, without ceremony—but there was no real venom in them. Only a worn-out truth. A warning wrapped in an old man's exhaustion.
Lucas stayed silent, watching Barrik's face carefully, reading the tension in the way his shoulders hunched just a little tighter.
But after a moment, Barrik shook his head, like tossing off a memory best left buried.
"Ah, don't mind me," he said, voice rougher now, but easier. "Just tired bones talking. It's good you two are sharp. Curious. Means you might just survive what's coming."
He stood with a grunt, brushing dust from the front of his tunic.
"But for tonight—get some rest. You'll need it."
He started back toward the darkened hallway, his steps heavy and unhurried.
At the threshold, he paused—just long enough for the firelight to catch the worn set of his jaw.
"And don't go worrying too much about what the System's doing," he added, his voice drifting back to them like a scrap of smoke. "It's not your enemy. It's just... the world finding a place for you."
With that, Barrik disappeared into the dark, leaving only the fire to crackle in his place.
Lucas waited, breath tight in his chest, until the distant sound of a door clicking shut echoed faintly down the hall.
Then he turned to Lira.
"Well... I should get some sleep too," he said, rising slowly. "Try to rest, alright? I'll see you in the morning."
The words felt simple enough, but in the back of his mind, he was already thinking: they'd need to talk in her room—somewhere quieter, safer—before anyone else decided what the morning would bring.
Lira offered a small, tired smile, standing up as well. "Yeah... I should probably get going too," she said, brushing imaginary dust from her sleeves.
"No sense sitting here pretending to stay awake. Might as well lie down and hope sleep comes."
Lucas gave a small nod, and together, without another word, they turned toward the staircase. The manor was silent—eerily so. The calmness of the air was almost refreshing, casting a false sense of peace that didn't match the turmoil running through either of their minds.
As they climbed the steps, both wrestled with the same storm of thoughts, replaying everything that had happened downstairs. At Lira's door, she opened it without hesitation, and they both slipped inside.
It wasn't until the door clicked shut behind them that the hundreds of scattered thoughts, they'd been holding back found room to breathe—and to be unleashed.
"How did you learn about General Winthorn? Was that in the library?" Lira asked, deliberately ignoring the mention of the System and brushing past Barrik's remarks from earlier.
Her cold composure was gone now, replaced by something more open. Genuine. The mask she'd worn downstairs had been dropped.
Lucas nodded, easing into a chair in the corner while Lira perched on the edge of the bed.
"Yeah. It was in the library—the one Barrik said was off-limits. The door was cracked open, so I took a look. Most of the books were buried in dust, untouched. I wiped a few clean so I could read the titles... and that's when I found it. The Tales of General Winthorn."
He paused, watching her closely.
"I didn't react the way you did—not that intense—but the name... it meant something. I felt it. Like I knew him, or that he mattered somehow. So I was hoping maybe you could tell me more. Since it clearly hit you harder."
Lira didn't answer right away. Her fingers tightened slightly on the blanket beside her.
"General Winthorn..." she said softly. "He was my general. That I know. And more than that—he was someone I looked up to. Not just a commander. A symbol. That's what I remember. Or at least, what I remember feeling."
She looked up, a flicker of uncertainty passing through her eyes.
"But how could a book about him be here? If he's from our world—or our memories—how does The Tales of General Winthorn exist in this one?"
She met Lucas's gaze, the weight of the question hanging in the air.
"It doesn't make sense," she continued, quieter now. "Unless this world and our past are more connected than they want us to think."
"What do you think the connection means?" Lucas asked, picking up where Lira had left off. "Like… are we from this world and just forgot who we were? Or was Aetherion—like Barrik called him—actually telling the truth, and our old world really is gone?"
Lira leaned back, eyes narrowing as her mind turned it over.
"Well, if I had to answer that, we'd need to start with the relationship between Aetherion and Barrik. Cause I don't think there on the same side."
Her voice shifted—quick, analytical, like the thoughts had been waiting just behind her eyes.
"What makes you think that?" Lucas asks.
"Well so far, from what we know, Aetherion's always been in the Tower. A projection. His only job seems to be welcoming us, giving us the bare minimum information, and then sending us down the mountain. But Barrik… he's different. He's in charge of stoping us before we reach Hollowrest."
She sat up straighter, ticking her thoughts off like notches.
"See Barrik made it sound like Aetherion was supposed to say more. Like the echo failed. He talked about it like a script—'should've said this,' 'used to be better.' Then he encourages us to stay. Learn more. But why?"
She paused. Her tone sharpened.
"Because Barrik knows we want to learn more about our past. Cause no matter what Aetherion told us, that itch to know who we were? It doesn't go away. Barrik uses that to his advantage."
Her words picked up speed, low but deliberate.
"He tells us it's late. That it's strange. That things aren't normal. And then—he guides us into the false safety of the manor. Baths, warm food, soft beds... all of it designed to ease us. To lull us into his grasp—so he can strike."
She leaned forward.
"Strikes for what, I don't know. But I think it has to do with the System."
Lucas listened, jaw tight. She wasn't wrong. None of it felt wrong.
"Aetherion barely mentioned it," she continued. "Said it was coming. Said it wasn't a concern. Like it was just a formality. But Barrik? He lingered. Emphasized it. Kept circling back to how normal it is. How we should expect it. Welcome it. No fear."
Lucas nodded grimly. "Adolf said the same. Kept insisting the System was normal. That everyone has it. That even children—and puppies, from beasts—aren't afraid of it."
He looked up at her.
"But when they keep repeating that—just like you said—it starts to feel like the opposite."
Lira gave a slow, quiet nod.
"Exactly. So what's the goal? Why tamper with the System before it arrives? I think I've figured it out. Aetherion even hinted at it: 'There are no masters here. No chains but those you forge yourself.'"
She paused, eyes narrowing.
"If Aetherion isn't working with Barrik—and if what he said is true—then it means the System doesn't forge us. We forge it. Our minds shape it."
"Our memories," Lucas said, eyes going wide.
"Exactly," Lira replied, her words coming faster now. "And that's the point. I think Barrik's trying to change our memories—reshape who we are—so that when the System comes, we become whatever he wants."