The wind carried the scent of salt and rain as the group arrived at the edge of the world – the Forgotten Shore. Waves glittered under the pale sun, each crest reflecting shards of light like broken glass. For the first time in weeks, there was no fighting, no running – just the strange, rhythmic sound of the sea singing against the rocks.
Reika stretched her arms with a yawn. "Finally. A place that isn't on fire."
Taro dropped his pack beside a driftwood log and muttered, "Give it an hour."
Lucan laughed – a sound almost foreign after the chaos of the last battles. "If we're lucky, maybe the ocean monsters here just ask for hugs instead of souls."
"Don't jinx it," Reika said, flicking a seashell at his head.
The group had come here chasing rumours – whispers of another survivor from the Custodian experiments, someone who had escaped before Kairo ever woke in Amaranth. The name had been carried by traders and exiles alike: Lyra Solen – a musician said to play songs that could stir memories of lives long forgotten.
As they approached a small fishing village on the shore, they heard it – a haunting melody drifting over the waves. It wasn't played on any known instrument; it sounded like the ocean itself was singing. The closer they came, the heavier the air grew, thick with nostalgia and sorrow.
When they reached the pier, they saw her.
A young woman sat at the edge of the dock, her feet dangling above the water. Her silver hair shimmered like moonlight, and her eyes – one blue, one gold – reflected both grief and warmth. In her hands, she held a stringed instrument unlike any they'd seen: a lyre made from what looked like crystalised coral.
"You shouldn't have followed the song," she said softly, her gaze fixed on the horizon. "The ocean remembers what the world forgets."
Reika stepped forward cautiously. "You're Lyra…aren't you?"
The woman smiled faintly, almost playfully. "Depends on who's asking. If you're debt collectors, I'm a humble fisherwoman. If you're here for the music…well, you might regret listening."
Taro squinted. "You're not gonna curse us, are you?"
"Only emotionally," she said, plucking a single note that sent ripples through the water.
The melody deepened – and suddenly, visions flickered before their eyes: Kairo standing before the Rift, his hand outstretched; a boy crying in a sterile lab; a group of children singing to drown out the screams of experiments gone wrong.
Reika gasped. "You knew him…didn't you?"
Lyra stopped playing. The waves fell still. "Kairo Orin…yes. I knew the boy before the tyrant."
She stood, turning to face them fully. "He was my brother."
The air shattered with silence.
Lucan nearly dropped his sword. "Wait – your brother? As in the same family, same experiments -?"
Lyra nodded, her voice trembling with memory. "The Custodians called him Subject Zero. I was Subject One. But he…he took my place when they began the ascension trials. He saved me."
Reika stepped closer. "So, you survived because of him."
Lyra smiled faintly, but her eyes shone with tears. "He always carried everyone's pain, didn't he? Even when the fire consumed him."
For a moment, the whole world seemed to breathe – the sea, the wind, the sky. Then, breaking the heavy air, Lucan suddenly sneezed - loudly.
"Okay, emotional moment ruined," Taro said, deadpan.
Reika rolled her eyes. "Lucan, seriously?"
"Sorry! Salt air makes me emotional," he said, wiping his nose. "And allergic."
Lyra laughed – really laughed – and for a brief moment, the grief faded from her face. "You remind me of him," she said softly. "Always finding humour in the ashes."
Then her expression darkened. "But if you came here, it means something's stirring again, doesn't it? The Rift isn't done with us."
Reika nodded grimly. "We think Kairo's essence might've survived. Somewhere beyond the sealed breach."
Lyra's fingers tightened around her lyre. "Then it's time to finish what we started. But not with war – with remembrance."
The ocean's waves began to hum again, carrying her song far into the distance – a melody of loss, hope and reunion.
And somewhere, deep beneath the sea, something stirred – listening.