Pyrehold, Day Nine
The humming didn't return.
But Toy noticed her watching him more often now — not with suspicion, not exactly, but with that same unreadable quiet he had seen in veterans of too many wars. The kind of silence that came after everything worth saying had already been lost.
He didn't ask questions. She wouldn't answer. But he could feel something stirring between them. The cold wasn't as bitter anymore. Not because the room had changed.
Because she had.
And that's when it happened.
She dreamed.
Toy woke up to the sound of chains shifting violently. The torches flared, sputtered, then dimmed again.
Lara was thrashing in her sleep.
Or... something close to sleep.
Her fingers twitched. Her mouth opened slightly, breathing fast now. Her skin shimmered faintly — not glowing, but reflecting something that wasn't there.
"Lara?" Toy said quietly, approaching.
That was the first time he said her name.
She didn't wake.
Instead, her lips moved — whispering things he couldn't catch.
Then a gust of cold air exploded from her body. Not from magic — the meteoritum collar still pulsed — but something deeper. Instinct. Trauma.
And suddenly, the cell wasn't just a room anymore.
It was memory.
He saw it not with his eyes, but with something else. As if the air itself carried images made of breath and pain.
A mountain lake, frozen over, surrounded by black pine trees.
A throne of ice at its center.
Lara stood before it — but not in chains. She was radiant. Unbound. Clad in robes of storm-white and silver thread. Her eyes glowed like the sky before snowfall.
And beside her… it appeared.
A massive, white serpent coiled from the lake, easily the length of a ship. Its scales shimmered with translucent sheen, and two long horns curved from its head like crescent moons. Its eyes were blue fire. Calm. Ancient.
It was beautiful.
It was terrifying.
It loved her.
Toy could feel it. The connection wasn't forced — it was chosen. Guardian and soul. Protector and heart.
The spirit coiled gently around her feet, nuzzling her like a cat too large for the world.
Then—
Betrayal.
Flashes of steel. Arrows. Magic bolts. Dozens of soldiers emerging from the trees — Chrollena's elite.
The betrayal came from behind her.
A woman. Dark hair. Gold rings. Someone Lara had trusted.
The woman whispered something in Lara's ear — and then pushed a meteoritum spike into her back.
The guardian spirit screamed.
The lake cracked.
Lara fell.
The image shattered like glass.
Toy staggered back, gasping.
The torches burned low again.
Lara still lay curled, breathing fast, a tear frozen on her cheek.
He crouched beside her, carefully placing his hand near her shoulder. He didn't touch her. Just let her feel his presence.
"I saw it," he whispered.
She opened her eyes slowly. There was no power in her gaze now. Only exhaustion. Grief. Memory.
"My guardian…" she said, voice barely audible. "They destroyed it."
"No," Toy replied. "It still lives. In you."
She blinked. Her pupils narrowed slightly.
"I heard its cry," Toy added. "That thing... it loved you."
"I don't deserve it."
He stared at her for a long moment. Then said, softly:
"Neither did I deserve the friends I lost."
Lara's expression shifted — the walls she wore like armor thinned.
"The woman," Toy asked, "who stabbed you… was she close?"
Lara hesitated.
"She was my sister."
Toy looked away, jaw tight.
And yet... he understood. He too had tasted betrayal from blood and bond.
They sat in silence for a while.
Then Lara whispered, "The guardian's name was Kaelith. The Horned Serpent of the Pale Lake."
"I'll remember it," Toy said.
Her eyes widened slightly.
She believed him.