The floor groaned under their weight as Lucan followed Lyra through the dim hallway. The air felt thick, stale—like the walls hadn't breathed in years. Dust clung to everything in fine layers, and the fading orange light from the windows seemed afraid to enter too deeply.
He walked past crooked frames—frozen smiles from another life—and tried not to stare. The silence here wasn't empty. It was listening. The faint creak of old wood beneath their feet seemed unnecessarily loud.
Lyra stopped at a door at the end of the hallway, hand hovering over the handle. Her shoulders were tense, breath shallow, as if the very act of opening this door might break something fragile inside her.
"This was their room." she said, voice barely above a whisper.
Lucan said nothing. The moment felt too heavy for words.
The door creaked open, resisting at first, then swinging inward with a reluctant sigh.
The room was cloaked in shadow. Curtains still drawn. A thin shaft of light slipped through a tear in the fabric, revealing floating dusts and a sense of stillness so complete that it was strange.
Most things here hadn't moved for years.
And then she said, "I came here once after they disappeared… but couldn't stay long. Something about this place—it's like the walls remember."
Lucan stepped in behind her. "You said you found something?"
She nodded and crossed to the center of the room where an old chest sat under a moth-eaten sheet. It wasn't locked. Just... there.
"I didn't touch it much. I just saw what was inside and thought—maybe you'd understand it better than I do."
He raised an eyebrow. "Why me?"
Lyra's lips lifted slightly, but there was no smile. "Because you never asked for things I wasn't ready to give."
Lucan blinked. Words caught in his throat.
And just like that, the moment passed.
She knelt by the chest and peeled back the cloth, revealing its dented surface and faded brass edges. Her hands paused at the latch.
Lucan crouched beside her, heart strangely loud in his ears. "We open it together?"
She gave a single nod.
Then the latch clicked.
Inside, wrapped tightly in velvet-blue cloth, was an old leather-bound journal, its pages yellowed and edges curled with time. Next to it lay a pendant—no, a locket. Oval-shaped, silvery but tarnished, etched with faint, strange ancient-like symbols around its edge.
Lyra didn't move. Her eyes were fixed on the locket as if it might leap out and bite.
Lucan picked up the journal first, gently flipping it open. The pages were filled with neat but hurried handwriting, yet much of it was written in strange symbols and an unfamiliar script. He examined the writing from every angle, trying to make sense of it, but no matter how hard he tried, the meaning remained a mystery.
Among the strange text, a few lines were written in clear words—hesitant, confused, and filled with fear:
"Something is happening that I can't stop. It feels stronger than me… like it's slipping beyond control."
The handwriting grew shakier toward the end, as if the writer was struggling to keep calm:
"If I disappear, let this journal be found. Let someone know what I saw… even if they won't believe it."
Lucan closed the book slowly, a cold knot tightening in his stomach. Whatever this was, he wasn't ready for it. He wanted to leave the room, but stayed—for Lyra's sake.
Lucan closed the book and picked up the locket. It was heavier than it looked. The moment his fingers brushed the surface, a tingling sensation ran up his arm, like static electricity prickling under the skin. A low hum seemed to echo faintly in his ears.
"Did you hear that?" he asked.
Lyra looked at him. "Hear what?"
"The... humming."
"I didn't hear anything."
But she was frowning now. Her posture shifting.
He turned the locket over. No clasp. Just a central seam, like it should open—but it didn't budge.
Lucan furrowed his brow and pressed it a little harder. Still nothing.
"Try rotating it." Lyra suggested.
He did—and suddenly the locket shuddered in his palm.
A soft, pale-blue light leaked from the seam.
Lucan dropped it with a startled curse.
The locket hit the floor with a sharp metallic clink, then rolled to a stop beneath the desk.
"What the hell was that?" he breathed.
But even as he asked, something deeper inside him stirred. Not fear—something stranger. A tug. A pull. Like something familiar was reaching out from inside the light.
He bent down, hand shaking a little, and reached for it.
This time, the light pulsed faintly in rhythm with his heartbeat.
He turned to her. Her face was pale, her jaw tight.
"Lyra, do you know what this is?"
"I don't," she said. "But I think... we should just leave."
Lucan looked back at the locket.
A drop of blood from his finger—scraped unknowingly on the sharp edge of the desk—slipped onto its surface.
The effect was instant.
The blue light flared violently. Symbols along the locket's edge ignited like fire across metal.
Then the entire room seemed to vibrate.
Not shake. Vibrate—as if it were being tuned like an instrument.
Lucan staggered back. "Lyra—"
The locket rose from the floor, suspended in mid-air.
The walls trembled. Dust rained from the ceiling. A strange sound—like whispers layered atop a deep, metallic groan—filled the room.
The light expanded outward as waves, bending the air.
And then—reality fractured.
A line of light split open the center of the room. Not light from any source Lucan recognized. It wasn't white or yellow or blue. It was colorless and yet all colors at once—impossible to describe, like trying to explain a dream you hadn't quite woken from.
And within that split: stars. Floating islands. Unfathomable shadows.
A rift.
Lucan stumbled back, but he couldn't look away.
The locket hovered between them and the rift like a key.
Lyra clutched his arm, her voice a whisper.
"Lucan… what did we just open?"
He had no answer.
The air howled around them. Pages from the journal tore free, circling like vultures. The chest slammed shut on its own.
The rift pulsed.
And then it began to pull.
Lucan and Lyra screamed as the force grabbed them—not just their bodies, but something beneath—like it reached into their bones, their memories, their very existence.
Then everything went white.
This wasn't how the day was supposed to end.
Not with light swallowing the world.
Not with her like this.
[End of Chapter 3]