"Wait a minute—you think Barrik is changing our minds to manipulate the System? To create some outcome he wants?"
Lucas's voice sharpened, rising just enough to crack the stillness. His hands moved as he spoke, gestures tight and jagged, like the realization struck too fast for him to contain.
"I'm not sure," Lira replied, steady but grim. "But yeah. That's what it feels like. He's trying to turn us into something—something that serves his goal. Then send us back into the world like it was our idea."
Lucas's face darkened. His jaw tightened.
"Okay, but how do we stop it? We don't know how to use magic. We don't even understand runes. And everything we do know—it's all just surface-level. Half instincts, half guesses."
He hesitated, his voice dropping lower.
"You only figured out what the bath runes did because you were sharp and careful. We don't know how far this goes. What kind of power they're using. Their tactics... the layout of the manor... heck, for all we know…"
His eyes flicked to the stone walls.
"…he's listening to us right now."
The thought settled between them like lead.
A silence stretched, thick and suffocating. Lucas said nothing more, but the shadows under his eyes deepened. His thoughts slipped into darker waters, the full scope of what they were facing pressing down on him with quiet, merciless weight.
'There's no way. How are we supposed to fight an enemy that can rewrite our minds? If they can change our memories… what can't they do?'
"Stop that."
Lira's voice cut in—sharp, unwavering pulling Lucas from his thoughts.
"Stop that line of thinking. Right now."
She didn't shout, but the conviction in her voice left no room for argument.
"That's exactly what Barrik wants. For us to feel cornered. Hopeless. Like we're already lost. So don't give him that. Don't be that."
Lucas looked up slowly.
"Think about the next step," Lira continued. "One step. Then another. We'll find what were looking. But right now?"
She leaned in, eyes hard.
"I need you steady. I need someone I can rely on."
A beat.
"Got it?"
The question wasn't really a question.
Lucas exhaled. The darkness didn't leave, but it loosened its grip just enough. He nodded.
"Got it."
"Good," Lira said, stepping back. Her voice lost none of its edge, but it softened just enough to breathe again.
"Alright. First step."
She moved toward the bed, already shifting into motion.
"I'll sleep first. You stay up, keep watch. If anything changes—if the runes light up, if you hear footsteps, if something feels off—you wake me. No hesitation."
She met his eyes.
"Immediate. Got it?"
Lucas gave a small nod, already shifting to get comfortable in the chair.
"Yeah. Got it."
"All right then. Good night, Lucas," Lira said as she slipped under the covers, closing her eyes with a quiet exhale.
"Good night, Lira," Lucas replied, watching as her breathing slowed and her body eased into stillness.
Almost immediately, a rhythmic lull settled over her, drawing her into sleep like a weightless current.
Lucas kept his gaze fixed on her, eyes sharp. He watched for any shift, any flicker of the runes, any sign of disturbance.
But the runes remained dark. Silent.
No sound crept through the walls. No creak of floorboards. No wind. Just stillness.
He stayed alert—making sure nothing compromised her rest.
As time passed, Lucas remained still, quiet, careful not to disturb her rest.
The room stayed unchanged. No movement. No flickering runes. No whispers in the halls.
Outside, the sky held to its darkness—mute and motionless.
He checked the time by feel alone. The ache behind his eyes. The weight settling into his limbs.
It had been long enough.
He stood, padded over to the bedside, and gently reached out.
"Lira," he whispered, just above breath. "Your turn."
Her eyes fluttered open almost instantly. She was alert in seconds, as if her body had only been pretending to sleep. She sat up, rubbed her eyes once, and nodded.
"Anything happen?" she asked, voice hoarse with sleep.
"Nothing. Quiet the whole time."
Lucas stepped back toward the chair, now barely able to keep his eyes open. The fatigue caught him like a hook between the ribs.
He watch as Lira got out of bed and took his spot in the chair letting him take the bed.
"Wake me in a few hours," he murmured, already lowering himself onto the bed's edge.
"You got it," Lira said, her voice steadier now.
He didn't remember lying down fully. Just the weight of his body sinking. The warmth still clinging to the blankets. The breath between thoughts.
Sleep took him fast.
When his eyes opened again, the light was different.
Sunlight spilled through the window bars—pale and cold—stretching long across the stone floor.
Lucas blinked against it, squinting as he sat up slowly.
Lira was still awake—this time standing near the window, arms folded, watching the world outside with narrowed eyes.
Lucas swung his legs over the side of the bed, rubbing the sleep from his face with the heel of his hand. The warmth in his muscles had faded, but the ache in his joints reminded him he'd actually managed to rest.
Her silhouette stood outlined in the pale morning light.
Seeing him stir, Lira turned and raised a brow.
"Good. Didn't even have to wake you," she said, stretching out stiff limbs. "You're up quick—like you're used to short sleep."
Lucas pushed himself upright with a quiet grunt, rubbing his eyes.
"Feels like I am," he muttered. "Felt like if I didn't get up right then, something might've happened."
She gave a small, approving nod.
"Well, not a bad instinct. I was about to wake you up in a minute, but I got distracted looking out the window."
He moved toward her, stepping up beside the glass. The air against it was cool, and the light—once distant and diffused—now painted the landscape in sharper focus.
Beyond the window, the manor yard unfolded before Lucas. Snow kissed the grass, clung to the iron bars of the fence, and dusted a statue resting in a shadowed corner of the garden. Wilted flowers, frozen by the weight of winter, ringed its base in quiet surrender.
The statue stood gray, the same somber tone as the far side of the mountain. Its details, though weathered, were sharp enough to catch from the manor window. A sword rested in its grip—held not like decoration, but with purpose. The kind of weapon carried by someone who had stood tall before great evil. The armor carved into the stone was regal, worn with dignity and might.
"Who do you think that is?" Lucas asked, pointing toward the statue.
"I'm not sure," Lira replied, her face clouded with thought as she tried to piece it together. Her eyes remained fixed on the figure, puzzled. "I don't know what the statue is of… but it feels like I should."
"Really? 'Cause I'm not feeling anything looking at it," Lucas said, eyes narrowing slightly. No pull. No flicker of memory. Just cold stone and silence.
"Hm." Lira's gaze lingered a moment longer before she turned. "Well, I guess we'll have to check it out later."
She stepped away from the window, her voice steady but not dismissive.
"Come on—let's head down. See if we can find any of the other Wakers. Maybe figure out what happened to them."
"Yeah, you're right," Lucas said, turning away from the window to follow Lira.
As they made their way into the hallway, the lanterns lining the walls glowed a touch brighter than they had the night before—subtle, but noticeable.
Descending the stairs, they heard the soft clatter of pans and the hurried shuffle of feet—signs of life returning to the manor.
Upon entering the living room, the scent of freshly cooked food hit Lucas like a wave. It filled his nostrils—rich and familiar. Eggs. Ham. Perhaps onions.
He turned his head, eyes drawn to one of the doors that had been shut the night before. It now stood open, warm light spilling into the room, carrying with it the source of that tantalizing aroma.
Turning to Lira, he nodded his head as if to say, should we go in?
Lira nodded back in agreement.
As they walk in the sight of a beautiful kitchen that their view. As the servants prepare a luxurious meal.
'Meat.' At the sight of a servant cooking a thick slice of ham, Lucas couldn't help but drool slightly, like a child on Christmas morning. Wiping his mouth, he tried to suppress the grin spreading across his face, but even his sister wasn't spared from such an undignified display.
As if both were entranced, they soaked in the aroma and the feast for the eyes that the scene brought them.
"I see that you are intrigued by the house's cooking. Do not fret—we have enough food for everyone," announced Adolf, the regal servant stepping into the warm light of the kitchen.
Pulling his gaze from the ham, Lucas turned to look at Adolf, who was donning the same outfit he had worn the night before.
"I hope you had a good night's rest. Here at the manor, we take great pride in providing excellent service."
"Yes, it was most excellent," Lira said nonchalantly.
"Good, good. And you, sir—did you have a good sleep?" Adolf asked, turning his attention to Lucas.
"Yes, I did as well," Lucas replied, keeping his tone neutral.
"Wonderful. The others should be joining us shortly. Please, feel free to begin serving yourselves while we await their arrival." Adolf gestured toward the spread of food with a graceful sweep of his hand.
As if on cue, footsteps echoed from the stairwell, moving in an oddly synchronized rhythm. The first to enter was the dancer girl, who had traded her original outfit for a simple sweater. The shoes she'd worn on her feet were now replaced by pink fluffy slippers.
Following behind her, the military man from before could also be seen in more casual wear, with many of the other Wakers also donning new clothes.
"Good morning," the dancer said while yawning, blinking slowly. "You guys are up early—didn't sleep well?" she asked, looking at Lira and Lucas.
"No, we had good sleep. We just both decided to get up early," Lira said while walking over to the dancer.
"And oh, I love your slippers! They look so nice," Lira added.
The dancer's eyes lit up. "Really? You like them? I thought they might have been a bit much, but since I didn't have anything else, I just went with them."
"No, girl, you look great," Lira said with a warm smile.
The dancer beamed at the compliment and conversed with Lira about the manor, noting the bathhouse and the silky soft bed that seemed to wrap around her in her sleep.
"It's like I was one of the noble girls back home," the dancer girl said, only to suddenly frown.
"Wait... what did I just say?" The dancer girl looked confused, as if the words that had left her mouth didn't match what she actually remembered.