"The Cage of Doom?" Itsuki's voice carried the weight of someone who had begun to understand that their situation extended far beyond simple imprisonment.
Eden nodded, his expression grave. "Yes. According to Virelian history, specifically a text known as the Endless Journey Book."
The scholar's words drew the attention of every expedition member. Even those who had been checking their equipment or tending to minor injuries stopped their activities, sensing that what Eden was about to share would define their understanding of the danger they faced.
"The book was written by Xalreth," Eden continued, settling into the rhythm of explanation that came naturally to someone who had spent years studying the mysteries of the Beyond. "He was one of the most accomplished members of the Beyond Order in the early centuries after Astralyn's founding. Back then, the kingdom was perhaps a tenth of its current size, and expeditions into the Beyond were far more frequent, if considerably more dangerous."
Nanook listened with the focused attention of someone whose position demanded understanding of every threat that might face his people. "What did this Xalreth document?"
"Everything," Eden replied simply. "The Endless Journey Book contains detailed records of expedition paths, catalogues of dangers encountered at specific distances from the border, geographical landmarks that served as navigation points." He paused, gathering his thoughts. "But more importantly for our current situation, it contains a specialized section dedicated to ten creatures that Xalreth classified as the Wandering Verythra."
The name settled over the expedition like a physical weight. These were not mere predators or territorial guardians, but something that transcended normal categories of threat.
"The Wandering Verythra," Eden continued, "are beings that were once on the very brink of death. At that crucial moment, when life and dissolution balanced on a knife's edge, essence itself intervened. Not essence channeled by a wielder or shaped by conscious will, but the raw, living force that underlies all existence in Vilaris."
Sayaka pushed herself to her feet, her legs still unsteady but her mind sharp with focus. "Isn't essence everywhere?"
Eden's expression grew more complex. "Not quite. There was an expedition, documented in Xalreth's records, that reached a point in the Beyond where they felt only the essence within their own bodies. They could not draw from the environment around them, could not sense the familiar flow that normally sustains all Virelian abilities. In that place, they were limited to whatever power they carried within themselves."
The implications rippled through the group like waves from a stone dropped in still water. Every Virelian drew strength not just from their own reserves, but from the endless flow of essence that permeated their world. The idea of a place where that connection could be severed was more terrifying than any physical threat.
"So as long as there is essence," Itsuki said slowly, working through the logic, "these beasts are essentially infinite."
"Exactly," Eden confirmed. "The Wandering Verythra flow with essence in a way that transcends normal mortality. They have been sustained by the force that creates worlds, and as long as that force exists, they cannot truly be destroyed."
The silence that followed was profound. Each expedition member processed the information according to their own understanding of power and limitation. They had entered the Beyond expecting to face dangers that could be overcome through skill, strategy, and superior force. Instead, they found themselves trapped by a creature that existed beyond the normal boundaries of life and death.
Lucian Sylas broke the silence with casual observation that somehow made their situation feel even more hopeless. "Guess we're trapped here for a while then."
His words hung in the air like an admission of defeat, though his tone carried the same easy acceptance that had marked his approach to every challenge they had faced. But there was something in his manner that suggested deeper currents, memories borrowed from distant battles that might offer perspective their current circumstances lacked.
The conversation might have continued, might have devolved into planning or despair or desperate attempts to find solutions to an apparently unsolvable problem. But hundreds of miles away, in the familiar streets of Silverstone City, events were unfolding that would add new dimensions to the mysteries surrounding their expedition.
Dael Enther moved through his morning routine with the practiced efficiency of someone whose life had found its rhythm after years of uncertainty. The dojo that bore his family's name occupied a place of honor in Silverstone's merchant district, its walls echoing with the sounds of students practicing forms that had been refined over generations.
At forty-three, Dael had achieved the kind of life that most Virelians considered ideal. His school thrived, his reputation as an instructor drew students from across the domain, and his son had grown into a young man of remarkable ability and character. The pain of his wife's loss had never fully healed, but time had taught him to carry that grief alongside joy rather than allowing it to consume everything else.
The morning's first class proceeded normally. Young students worked through basic essence exercises while more advanced practitioners sparred under his watchful guidance. The familiar rhythms of instruction filled the hours with purpose and satisfaction that made each day feel complete.
But as afternoon shadows began to lengthen across the training mats, something changed.
The first sign was subtle, a shift in the quality of light that filtered through the dojo's windows. Dael noticed it peripherally while correcting a student's stance, a brightening that seemed to come from within the building rather than from the sun outside.
Then he heard her voice.
"Dael."
The word stopped his heart. Not because it was unexpected, though few people would interrupt his classes without permission, but because the voice belonged to someone who could not possibly be speaking.
He turned slowly, afraid that movement might shatter whatever miracle or hallucination had brought that beloved sound back into his world. And there she stood, exactly as she had lived in his memories and dreams.
Naria Enther glowed with soft light that seemed to come from within her form rather than falling upon it from outside. Her hair moved as if stirred by unfelt breezes, and her smile carried the warmth that had made their home a place of perfect contentment during the years they had shared.
"Naria," he breathed, the name escaping him like a prayer.
She stepped forward, and he found himself moving toward her without conscious decision. The embrace was everything he had dreamed of during the long nights since her disappearance, warm and real and impossible.
"You're here," he whispered against her hair, tears flowing freely down his face. "You came back."
For a moment, she simply held him, and the world narrowed to encompass only the miracle of her presence. The dojo, the students, the responsibilities that had shaped his life since her loss, all faded into insignificance beside the overwhelming joy of her return.
But then her expression changed.
The smile that had welcomed him home from countless ordinary days twisted into something approaching panic. Her hands gripped his shoulders with desperate intensity, and her eyes held fears that belonged to nightmares rather than reunions.
"Where is Shion?" she demanded, her voice carrying urgency that cut through his joy like a blade.
"He went on an expedition," Dael replied, confusion beginning to cloud his happiness. "The Beyond Order selected him. He left with Nanook and the others just over a week ago."
"No," Naria said, the word escaping her like a cry of pain. "No, no, no. It's going according to his plan. You have to bring him back. Bring him back now!"
The desperation in her voice was unlike anything he had ever heard from her, even during their most difficult moments. This was not the woman who had faced every challenge with quiet determination, but someone driven to the edge of panic by knowledge that he could not share.
"Whose plan?" Dael asked, grasping her hands as if physical contact might anchor her to explanations. "What plan are you talking about?"
But even as he spoke, he could see her form beginning to fade. The light that had surrounded her was dimming, and her features were losing the sharp definition that had made her presence so undeniably real.
"Memory," she said, the word echoing strangely as her voice grew distant. "Memory..."
Then she was gone, leaving only empty air and the lingering impression of light that had never existed.
Dael stood motionless in the center of his dojo, students staring at him with expressions that ranged from concern to bewilderment. They had seen their instructor embrace empty space, heard him speak to someone who wasn't there, witnessed emotions that belonged to private grief rather than public instruction.
"Class dismissed," he said quietly, his voice carrying authority despite the tremor that ran through it.
The students filed out quickly, sensing that whatever had occurred was beyond their understanding or comfort. Within minutes, Dael stood alone in the familiar space that had been his refuge from mystery and complexity.
Memory. The word echoed in his mind, carrying weight that he could not begin to decipher. What did she mean? Whose memory? Why had the mention of Shion's expedition filled her with such desperate fear?
The questions multiplied without offering answers, but one certainty emerged from the chaos of his thoughts. Whatever vision or visitation he had experienced could not be ignored. Naria had never appeared to him before, had never broken the boundary between lost and living to offer warnings or pleas.
If she had come to him now, if she had manifested with desperate urgency about their son's safety, then something was happening that transcended normal understanding of danger and protection.
Dael locked the dojo's doors and set off toward the heart of Astralyn. The Beyond Order maintained headquarters there, staffed by administrators and strategists who coordinated expeditions and maintained contact with groups operating beyond the borders. If anyone could provide answers or take action based on his experience, it would be them.
The streets of Silverstone passed in a blur as he made his way toward the kingdom's center. Merchants called out greetings that he barely acknowledged, students waved from doorways he hardly saw. His mind remained fixed on the image of Naria's fading form and the echo of her final word.
Memory. Whatever it meant, whatever plan she had referenced, whatever connection existed between her warning and Shion's current situation, he would find answers. He would bring his son home, just as she had begged him to do.
The expedition trapped in Mournfang's cage had no way of knowing that forces were moving on their behalf, that love and loss were adding new variables to equations that already strained the boundaries of possibility. They could only wait within their prison of folded distance and wonder whether escape was even theoretically achievable.
But in the warm light of afternoon, a father walked toward duty and determination, carrying mysteries that might yet prove crucial to the survival of everyone he held dear. The Beyond had claimed his son, but the Beyond had not yet reckoned with the full scope of what that claiming might cost.