That night, sleep did not come gently.
Lyra drifted in and out of the storm's rhythm — the whisper of wind, the distant groan of shifting ice — until the sounds began to twist into something else.
A hum. Low, ancient, and mournful.
She was no longer in the cavern. Frost gave way to light — endless, blinding light — and she stood beneath a sky alive with constellations. They burned above her in perfect order, their lines traced by fire and silver.
She knew them.
Not by name, but by ache.
Figures moved across the heavens — luminous beings draped in starlight, their voices like chimes in the void. One turned toward her — a silhouette crowned in flame — and though Lyra couldn't remember the face, the sound that left her throat was familiar.
"You can't win this, Lyra."
Another voice. Distant. Soft.
The light flickered, and the sky trembled.
"We'll hold them as long as we can—go!"
She spun, reaching out, but her hand caught nothing but shards of starlight. The constellations began to shatter one by one — threads snapping, names unraveling. The heavens screamed without sound.
And through it all, a dark shape descended — vast, formless, its edges burning with chaos. The higher constellation — the one that had unmade them.
Her chest burned. Her power roared.
She saw Kairis — younger, her golden armor fractured, her hand reaching back through the storm of falling stars.
Then — silence.
The world folded. The constellations tore apart like smoke.
And Lyra fell.
She woke with a sharp breath.
The glowstone had dimmed to embers. Kairis and Kael slept against the wall, shadows curled beneath their cloaks. Only Azel remained awake — sitting near the frozen entrance, his eyes distant, the faint blue of his magic pulsing softly against the dark.
Lyra pressed a hand to her chest. Her heartbeat was too loud, her breath too shallow. The images clung to her mind like frost — a war she couldn't remember, faces she couldn't name.
She whispered to herself, barely audible.
"…Who were you?"
Outside, the wind answered — or maybe it didn't.
Lyra woke to the dull ache of cold in her fingers.
The storm hadn't ended — it had just gone quiet, the kind of silence that waits.
Azel was already awake, sitting by the sealed mouth of the cave. His eyes followed the faint light shifting through the ice.
"Didn't sleep?" he asked.
"Did you?"
He didn't answer.
By the time Kairis and Kael stirred, the gray outside had softened. They packed without a word and stepped back into the wind.
The path wound upward in long, steep lines. Snow crushed beneath their boots, every breath turning to frost. The storm no longer roared, but it never truly stopped — a whisper at the edge of hearing.
Kael muttered something about cursed mountains.
Kairis told him to save his breath.
Lyra walked in silence, her thoughts snagging on the faint shapes she had seen in the storm — constellations that weren't supposed to exist.
She tried to tell herself it had only been a trick of the snow.
Azel must've noticed her glance toward the gray sky. "Don't think too hard about it," he said. "Old stories say this mountain remembers things the world forgot. Nothing more."
"Stories?"
He nodded. "Myth stuff. Constellations, fallen gods, all that. No one believes it."
Lyra looked down at the trail. "Then maybe they should."
Kairis glanced back at her, but said nothing.
They climbed in silence after that.
"Everything changes with time, doesn't it," Lyra whispered, drawing her cloak tighter against the wind.
Azel walked beside her, his voice low. "Yeah. It does. What can we do about it?"
Snow crunched beneath their boots, muffled by the cold. "We might reach Frostspine by midday," Azel added, pulling his hood lower. "Maybe earlier."
Kael groaned, tossing his head back. "Finally! This freezing march will end!"
Kairis shot him a glare. "I wish I could leave you here," she muttered, punching his shoulder.
He only grinned. "You'd miss me."
They moved on. The snow thickened, swallowing sound. Trees stood still and white, their branches heavy with frost. Even the air felt frozen in place.
Kairis paused beside a deer locked in ice mid-leap. Her voice softened. "Poor thing…"
"Careful," Kael said with a smirk. "You might end up like that too."
Her glare sharpened, and she leaned in, eyes gleaming. "You'll freeze before me." Then she glanced toward Azel — waiting for him to step in.
But he only looked at Kael, eyes narrowing. He's hiding something. With a sigh, Azel turned away and kept walking. "They never stop talking," he muttered.
Lyra smiled faintly. "At least it keeps us alive."
Azel glanced at her but said nothing.
The world grew quieter the higher they climbed. Each step echoed too loud, each breath stung like needles. Lyra slowed, eyes sweeping the frozen forest. The stillness felt wrong — too heavy, too deliberate.
Why does it feel like even the air is watching us?
Kael's whisper broke the silence. "No monsters yet. Too quiet, don't you think?"
"Quiet isn't always safe," Lyra said softly.
Kairis brushed the snow from Lyra's shoulder, her voice steady. "She's right. Stay sharp. This place feels… wrong."
Lyra nodded, though the pull in her chest only grew stronger — something calling her name without sound.
Azel finally stopped. "It's there," he said quietly.
They followed his gaze.
At the edge of the clearing stood a tree unlike the rest — vast, crystalline, every branch carved from ice that shimmered faint blue. In its heart pulsed a slow light, alive and waiting.
Lyra's breath caught.
The first seal… it's calling me.
They stepped closer. A sudden force rippled through the air — invisible yet solid. Kairis stumbled back, her hand meeting something that wasn't there.
Kael smirked. "Careful. The mighty Kairis, defeated by thin air."
Kairis spun toward him. "Say that again and I'll make sure you freeze before the tree does."
Lyra's voice cut through the cold. "Both of you. Stop."
Her tone was sharp enough to silence them both.
They turned away, muttering under their breath. Kairis bit her lip, guilt flickering in her eyes.That bastard always get on my nerves … and now she is mad,great
To distract herself, she reached out again, pressing her palm to the invisible wall. It was solid, cold as death. She frowned.
Azel's voice came from behind, calm but certain. "It's a barrier. Only Lyra can pass through."
The others turned toward him. His tone carried no doubt.
Kairis stepped back, nodding once. "Go. It's waiting for you."
Lyra hesitated only a breath, then moved forward. The barrier shimmered faintly where Kairis had touched it. She looked back — Kairis nodded, Kael turned aside, and Azel watched in silence.
Why me…?
She reached out. The moment her hand brushed the unseen wall, it rippled, cold air spilling out like a breath. The barrier opened.
The glow of the ice-petaled tree spilled over her face, soft and unreal. Looking back, the others were blurred behind the veil, distant shadows in the snow.
It feels like it's been waiting for me all this time..