The air in the great hall was thick with unspoken words. Kaelen's threat hung between them, a tangible thing, colder than the stone walls. Outside, the scraping and thudding continued, a relentless, mindless percussion that served as a constant reminder of their predicament. They were trapped.
Kaelen turned from Lilith, his fury banked but still simmering beneath the surface. "Anya," he snapped, his voice crisp and authoritative. "Report. All entry points?"
Anya, who had been standing guard by the main doors, straightened. "Main hall doors barricaded, Commander. Side entrance secure. The high windows are too narrow for them to breach, but the lower ones in the kitchens and servant quarters are a liability."
"Reinforce them. Use whatever you can find. Furniture, crates, anything," he ordered. "And see to the child. Find her some water. Keep her quiet."
"Yes, Commander." Anya nodded, her loyalty absolute. She cast a quick, distrustful glance at Lilith before moving to fulfill her duties, her efficiency a testament to the Order's harsh training.
Left alone in the center of the vast, shadow-draped hall, Lilith leaned against a stone pillar, allowing its cold solidity to seep into her. The weakness from her earlier exertion was a physical ache, a profound emptiness that made her feel brittle, as if she might crumble into dust. She watched as Anya gently coaxed the little girl from behind the tapestry, leading her toward the kitchens. The child looked back over her shoulder, her eyes, once filled with terror, now held a flicker of curiosity as they rested on Lilith. It was a small, insignificant thing, yet it settled a piece of the turmoil within her.
Her gaze drifted around the hall. It was a place of wealth and power, now a tomb. Suits of ancestral armor stood like silent, empty sentinels. A grand fireplace, its embers long dead, gaped like a dark mouth. The ice-blue glow from the corpses cast shifting, unnatural shadows on the walls.
It was in this deep silence, beneath the cacophony from outside, that she felt it.
It was not a sound, but an echo. A resonance in the very fabric of the air. A cold, dark hum that vibrated in tune with the hollow space where her Heart-Bone used to be. The creatures outside were a storm, loud and chaotic, but this… this was a deep, silent current flowing beneath the floorboards.
The source of the corruption, the heart of this valley's sickness, was not in the woods.
It was here. Inside the manor.
Lilith pushed herself off the pillar, her weakness forgotten in the face of this chilling revelation. She walked toward the center of the room, her senses cast out like a net. The feeling grew stronger near the grand hearth, a cold spot in the air that had nothing to do with the lack of fire.
"The foundation," she whispered to herself. "It's coming from below."
Kaelen had been observing her, his arms crossed, his expression a mask of stern impatience. He had seen the shift in her demeanor, the sudden, focused intensity.
"What is it, tool?" he asked, his voice laced with scorn. "Have you found another child to save?"
Lilith turned to face him, her eyes clear and sharp. The power dynamic between them had momentarily inverted. He was the warrior, trapped and blind. She was the compass, and she had just found a new direction.
"You're wrong, Commander," she said, her voice steady. "The creatures outside are not the plague. They are merely the symptoms."
She pointed toward the cold hearth. "The true sickness is beneath our feet. We are not just besieged from the outside. We are standing in the heart of the nest."