Pyra 12, Imperial Year 1644
The Free Cities – The Manor of Lord Ashworth
The manor stood on a hill overlooking the sea, its white walls gleaming in the afternoon sun. It was not a fortress – just a wealthy noble's home, surrounded by gardens and a low iron fence. Guards patrolled the perimeter, but they were lazy, more concerned with keeping out peasants than any real threat.
Elara studied the manor through a spyglass, hidden in a grove of pines. Behind her, Roderick, Hikari, and Gregor waited.
"The informant said she's in the attic," Elara said. "Locked in. Has been for years."
"Why would a noble lock up his own daughter?" Gregor asked.
"Because she's a dhampir. Her mother was human. Her father… was a vampire." Hikari's voice was soft. "The lord married her mother for her dowry. When the child was born with red eyes and a thirst for blood, he hid her away."
Roderick's jaw tightened. "He should have killed her if he was so ashamed. Locking her in an attic is worse."
"We're not here to judge him. We're here to get her out." Elara lowered the spyglass. "The guards change every four hours. There's a gap at dusk. We go in then."
Pyra 12, Imperial Year 1644 – Dusk
The Manor – The Attic
The attic was not a room – it was a cage.
The walls were stone, the floor bare wood. A single narrow window let in the fading light, barred with iron. In the corner, a pile of blankets served as a bed. A chamber pot. A wooden cup. A stack of old books, their pages yellowed.
Celia Morningstar sat on the blankets, her knees drawn to her chest. She was twenty‑two, but she looked younger – thin, pale, her dark hair tangled. Her eyes were red, the pupils slit like a cat's. She wore a simple grey dress, stained and torn.
She heard the lock click.
The door opened. A halfling woman stepped inside, followed by an orc, a half‑elf, and a human knight.
Celia did not move. "Are you here to kill me?"
"No." Elara knelt a few paces away. "We're here to take you home."
"Home?" Celia laughed – a bitter, hollow sound. "I have no home."
"You have a family. Not the one who locked you here. The one who remembers." Elara reached out, slowly, not touching. "My name was Yuki Tanaka. I was the class president. You sat in the corner, near the window, always reading."
Celia's eyes widened. "Yuki?"
"Yes."
"You're… real?"
"We're all real." Elara gestured to the others. "Haruki. Hikari. Takeshi. We've been looking for you for years."
Celia stared at them. Then her face crumpled. She did not weep – she had forgotten how. But her body shook.
"I thought I was the only one," she whispered. "I thought I was going mad."
"You're not mad. And you're not alone."
Roderick stepped forward. "Can you walk?"
Celia tried to stand. Her legs buckled. Gregor caught her arm.
"Easy," he said. "When did you last eat?"
"I don't remember."
Hikari pulled out a piece of bread from her pack. "Eat this. Slowly."
Celia ate. The bread was dry, but she chewed and swallowed.
"We need to go," Elara said. "The guards will notice the lock."
"The lock is old," Celia said. "My father never changed it. He forgot I existed years ago."
"Then let's make sure he never remembers."
Pyra 12, Imperial Year 1644 – Night
The Road – The Class's Camp
They made camp in the forest, a safe distance from the manor. Celia sat by the fire, wrapped in a blanket. Hikari tended to her, checking for wounds, forcing her to drink water.
"She's malnourished," Hikari said. "And weak. But she'll recover."
"How long?" Roderick asked.
"Weeks. Maybe months."
Celia looked up. "I can still help. I'm not useless."
"No one said you were useless," Elara said. "You need to heal. That's all."
"I've been healing for twenty years. I'm tired of healing." Celia's voice was flat. "I want to fight."
"You will. When you're ready."
Celia looked at the fire. "The Black Knights. I've heard rumors. Are they really as dangerous as they say?"
"Yes," Gregor said. "But they're not our concern. We have our own mission."
"Finding the others."
"Yes."
Celia nodded slowly. "Then I'll help. However I can."
Pyra 13, Imperial Year 1644
The Road – Morning
The class packed up camp. Celia walked on her own, though Hikari stayed close. Her steps were unsteady, but her eyes were clearer.
Elara studied the map. "The next target is Isolde Silverleaf. The elf noble. She's in Aelindor, deep in elven territory."
"That's a long journey," Roderick said.
"Then we start now."
They walked east, toward the rising sun.
Behind them, the manor faded into the trees. Celia did not look back.
End of Chapter Fifty‑Four