LYRIAN AND REONE
Reone sat slumped against the cold stone wall, his breathing shallow but steady. The faint light filtering through the cracked ceiling cast ghostly shadows over his face.
Lyrian knelt beside him, gently helping him sit up straighter until his back was supported.
"You okay?" she asked quietly, worry threading her voice.
Reone winced but nodded. "I'll feel better," he muttered. "You know how quickly we Legions heal. I'll be fine."
Lyrian wasn't convinced. It had been a super effective attack Caelynn had hit him with—but she didn't press him.
After a moment, Reone spoke. "That place the Sisterhood mentioned—the Temple of Echoes. Do you know where it is, or why they'd be headed there with Damon?"
Lyrian paused, brow furrowing as she tried to remember. "Yeah... I think I do. It's somewhere in northern Volaria," she said slowly. "I remember reading about it back at Arcannum Academy. There's a legend tied to it—something ancient, something dark. But I can't recall the details, or what the Sisterhood would want there."
"I'm sorry," she murmured, voice cracking slightly. "That's not much help."
Reone shook his head, giving her a small smile. "You're being more than helpful, Lyrian. Don't beat yourself up."
Lyrian let out a short, humorless laugh. "Am I, though? Look around. We don't even know where we are, you're hurt, and we have no way to call for help. And me?" She gestured helplessly. "I can't do anything."
"Didn't you bring your communicator?"
Lyrian blinked at him. "No, Reone, I didn't find time to stop for my communicator in between fighting monsters and trying to follow Damon through a vanishing portal!" she snapped, her voice rising before she caught herself and sighed.
"Sorry. I'm stressed, but I shouldn't be taking it out on you."
Reone shrugged lightly. "It's fine. I get it."
Something in her chest tightened at that simple understanding. Lyrian sighed again and sank down beside him, pulling her knees up. "This is all my fault," she whispered. "If I hadn't followed Damon, you wouldn't have gotten hurt."
Reone turned to her. "And we wouldn't have learned that the Sisterhood is alive again—or what they're planning," he reminded her. "Following Damon might save a lot of people."
Lyrian nodded faintly, though her expression didn't ease. "Do you think our friends are looking for us?"
Reone hesitated, then shook his head. "Probably. But they can't know where we ended up."
Lyrian swallowed hard, trying to push down the disappointment. She rose again and began pacing the small chamber—or whatever this place was—her boots scraping against the dusty floor.
"Ugh," she groaned, pausing mid-step. "I thought I was done with this kind of high-stakes life when I left Arcannum."
Reone looked at her compassionately. But he knew that wasn't what the situation needed right now.
"We can't just sit here waiting, Lyrian," Reone said in a firm tone. "We have to do something."
"I know," Lyrian agreed with a sigh. "Every minute we waste, they're getting closer to the Temple. And if the Sisterhood reaches it first, then—"
"Then everyone's in danger," Reone finished grimly. "But at least Damon and Nivara were both weakened. That'll slow them down."
"True," Lyrian said thoughtfully. "And Caelynn mentioned they needed Damon for whatever they're planning at the Temple of Echoes—and that he has to be strong for it to work."
"They specifically said it would take at least two days for him to get better. That buys us a little time," Reone said, rubbing the back of his neck. "But not much. We need a plan—a way out of here, and to reach the Temple before they do."
Lyrian lifted her head, a spark of determination in her eyes. "Then first, we figure out where we are. There has to be something here that can give us some indication."
"Exactly," Reone said, nodding.
Lyrian stood, brushing dust from her clothes—just as her transformation faded, leaving her in her formal gown again. Elegant, yes, but out of place and completely impractical.
"Oh, perfect," she muttered, glaring down. "I'm drained from the fight, my magic's weak, and now I'm stuck like this. Fantastic."
Reone tried not to smile. "Don't panic. You'll recharge soon enough, right?"
"Sure, but until then, I'm basically defenseless."
"Come on, you still know how to fight," he said, smirking faintly. "And I may not be in top form, but I can at least act as a shield."
Lyrian laughed, not knowing that Reone meant it literally.
"You've got a point," she said with a smile. "Still, if I try fighting in this dress, I'll trip and break my neck."
Without hesitation, she borrowed Reone's Spiral and hacked the lower layers of her gown until it ended at her knees. It looked rough, but it would do,she decided
"Thank God I didn't listen to Diamond and wear heels," Lyrian thought, looking at her strapped sandals.
Reone raised an eyebrow. "You still look great."
Lyrian blushes and giggled. "I know a certain fashionably inclined Sylph would disagree with you."
Reone chuckled.
He tried to stand but wobbled, clearly in pain. Lyrian quickly slipped an arm under his shoulder to steady him—and he didn't pull away. She couldn't help but think how that would never have happened two years ago. He seemed to have really changed.
Together, they managed to get Reone upright. He then waved her off stubbornly when she tried to support him further. "Thanks, but I'm good."
Guess he hadn't changed that much, Lyrian thought.
"Sure," she said. "Let's move then."
They moved cautiously through the dim corridor. The deeper they went, the colder it became. The air was thick with damp stone and something fouler—a stench of decay that made Lyrian's skin prickle.
"This place reeks," she muttered. "It's awful. How could Damon—or anyone—live here?"
Reone's voice was quiet. "He didn't have a choice. After the attack on Rhys, he was hunted. Places like this were his only option."
Lyrian shook her head. "To think, Damon went from prince life to... this. And bitterness and vindictiveness were his downfall."
Reone glanced at her, wondering if she was saying that for this benefit. Before he could ask her, something caught his eye.
"Hey... this is weird," he said, pointing toward a room ahead. "One wall in this room looks different from the rest—cleaner and more intact."
He limped forward, curious, ignoring Lyrian's warning. When he brushed his fingers against the wall, his hand slipped right through.
He jerked back, startled. "What the—"
"Reone? What are you doing?"Lyrian asked.
A grin spread across his face—the first real one from him since they came here. He stepped forward again and walked straight through the wall.
"Jackpot," he called.
Lyrian hurried after him, worried, and gasped.
"Whoa!" she exclaimed. "Where did this place come from?"
"It must be Damon's. He probably used some kind of enchantment to hide it from prying eyes."
"Oh my stars..." she whispered.
The hidden chamber stretched wide, carved deep into the rock. It wasn't cold or decayed like the rest. Torches flickered to life as they entered, bathing the space in amber light.
It was fully furnished—a couch, a bed, a magical stove, shelves of books and crystals.
"Guess the guy wasn't roughing it like I thought," Reone muttered.
They moved deeper in. The walls were covered in arcane markings, maps, and crystal instruments that hummed faintly with resonance.
At the center stood an obsidian table littered with open tomes, fragments of armor, and maps of the royal palace of Echian.
Pinned above it were sketches of Rhys—his eyes crudely crossed out.
Lyrian realized something.
"He didn't just stay here,Reone," she told him in a soft tone. "This is where he also planned the attack."