Lyanna froze the moment she saw Vaelith standing in front of her door.
She stepped closer, stopping just within arm's reach of him, and said coldly,
"This is… my room."
As she spoke, she lifted her head slightly and looked straight into his eyes.
Vaelith had already been watching her in silence. His gaze did not waver. Then, in a low, steady voice, he asked,
"What was the boy's name you mentioned?"
"The boy? What boy?" Lyanna replied instantly . She paused for only a fraction of a second , just long enough for realization to flicker through her mind. She stared. He stared back .
It felt as though he were waiting only for her answer . Patient and Calculating.
Something is different about him, she thought.
Even if it was just for a moment… he felt like someone else entirely.
There must be a reason. Something I don't know. But one thing became clear today , Vaelith is holding himself back from something.
He's a capable man, she admitted inwardly. Yet strangely fragile when it comes to restraining himself. If he wanted, he could have kept me here like a prisoner and freed himself from whatever binds him… but he didn't.
So how did I end up here? Why am I trapped at all?
A faint, almost imperceptible smile touched her lips.
"Zaryth," she said.
The instant the name left her lips, Vaelith repeated it quietly, almost reverently,
"Za…ryth."
Lyanna nodded gently.
Without another word, Vaelith turned to leave.
"But why did you want to know?" she asked, voice steady despite the tension.
He glanced back once, his expression unreadable , eyes sharp, yet calm.
"It sounded… familiar."
Before she could ask another question , perhaps one whose answer he himself did not yet possess , he walked away without looking back. No explanation. Nothing more. Yet that simple statement carried weight , more questions than answers.
Moments later, Lyanna entered her room.
As she closed the door behind her, she murmured quietly,"Strange… isn't it?"
A pause.
"So what I thought… really was true."
She walked toward a tall, circular mirror standing in front of her. Its outer rim was decorated with tiny crystals of many colors, forming delicate patterns that shimmered faintly in the light. Lyanna studied her reflection.
She wore a long gray gown, simple in design yet quietly elegant. Beside her, draped neatly, rested another outfit , black, reinforced with armored plating across several points, clearly crafted for battle.
Her gaze lingered on it.
Life really is unpredictable, she thought. No one ever knows what will happen next. But nothing in this world happens without a reason. Everything exists because something caused it. I was once just a student living an ordinary life… and now I'm trapped in a place like this. Even I can hardly believe how much has changed in such a short time ...from the clothes I wear to the path I walk.
For a long time after arriving here, countless questions had swirled in her mind. But one question had always stood above the rest ,
"Why am I here?"
And during this past month, another strange question had begun tormenting her ...clinging to her thoughts like a spider's web filling a small room, tightening until escape felt impossible. It felt as though someone were trying to bind her with invisible threads.
But if everything had a reason… then she only needed to find it.
Her eyes sharpened, cold and determined.
And today… she finally had.
Since nothing happens without a cause… the reason I'm trapped in this realm must be someone , Lyanna thought
If Vaelith had wished, he could have imprisoned me himself and freed himself in the process. But he didn't.
That is what sets him apart from everyone else.
"Then, if not him… who?"
The answer crystallized in her mind: Vaelith's past tursomer.
The one who had once ruled this realm, the one who had bound Vaelith himself to this place . And that name… that sound… it had felt familiar, hadn't it?
A faint, unconscious smile curved Lyanna's lips. She lay back on her bed, eyes half-closed, thoughts sharp and deliberate.
She understood now.
Vaelith had been protecting her all this time… out of guilt. A man like him would rather remain a prisoner than imprison someone else for his own freedom.
Then the one who forced me here… could only be the previous tursomer of his position. The one who trapped Vaelith and escaped back to the ordinary world.
And Zaryth… perhaps someone Vaelith had once known. Perhaps the reason she herself had been drawn into this realm. Perhaps the source of the guilt that lingered behind his silence.
ELSEWHERE, the garden held its quiet order.
Sylvara stood in a shaded corner, watering the plants with precise attention. Each fallen leaf she removed, each careful motion, felt deliberate, almost reverent.
"This garden… really is beautiful," she murmured, trimming a dry leaf. "In a place so silent, so lifeless, these plants may be the only things that exist without selfishness. Wouldn't you agree, Azerion?"
From behind the broad trunk of a towering tree, Azerion emerged.
He glanced at her once, eyes steady, then spoke in a low voice.
" I see , Not only is your mind sharp… your perception is as keen as well."
A faint, knowing smile curved Sylvara's lips as she turned toward him briefly, then returned her gaze to the plants.
Azerion looked as striking handsome as ever but today, something subtle had changed. His long blue hair was tied back neatly with a white ribbon.
A thin, sleeveless white shirt clung lightly to his frame, the wide collar open and two buttons fastened low. Beneath it, a fitted silver chain-weave armor hugged his torso like a second skin.
Twin armored belts rested at his waist, ornate yet functional, from which a battle coat fell gracefully over gray armored trousers. His hands were sheathed in reinforced gloves, the plating catching sunlight with each minor movement.
In simple terms, he looked composed , almost ordinary glowing .
Except for his eyes. Those piercing, bright blue eyes.
Sylvara glanced at him once, cold and deliberate, then returned to her task as if he were nothing more than scenery.
"So then, handsome Sir Azerion," she said lightly, her tone softening with curiosity and subtle amusement,
"You seem rather eager for a journey that won't even begin for another six hours. Already changed into new attire… and now you've come all the way here to see me. May I ask the reason?"
Sylvara remained still, her expression unreadable, as Azerion's soft, crooked smile broke the silence.
"Miss Sylvara," he said, low and precise, each word deliberate, "your story may seem unbelievable to some… but I do not doubt it. Do you know why?"
Her eyes met his briefly, cold and assessing, then returned to her task.
Azerion stepped closer, brushing a stray strand of hair from her neck with a careful, almost intimate touch. His gaze held hers, unflinching.
"Because… I've seen them come," he murmured, leaning closer, the faintest weight in his tone hinting at danger.
Before she could respond, his whisper brushed her ear ,
"Before the witches could use me… I ended them myself. Do you understand?"
Sylvara stayed silent. Her face betrayed nothing, as though the words had passed through her without leaving a trace.
Azerion chuckled, soft but chilling, like a blade sliding across stone.
"Truly… you are merciless, Sylvara."
Still, she said nothing.
He straightened slowly, voice sharpening, rising with restrained intensity.
"Do you know? You are not alone in your cruelty.Here, everyone is merciless in some way. Some exploit others as you have. And those who control anything ,imagine the depths of their silence, how calculated, how cold.
You know that to gain anything here, you must lose something. And you know the truth: time here does not age, none of us grow old, none of us grow weak."
Sylvara's lips parted slightly. "Then… why tell me all this, Azerion?"
He paused, eyes glinting like steel in faint sunlight, then leaned closer again, voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, sharp as a knife.
"Because… I know something. Something perhaps even you do not. Though some claim control… I have seen it all for myself."
Sylvara froze, eyes widening, disbelief flickering across her face. Her hands gripped the edge of the garden bench as though anchoring herself to reality.
ELSEWHERE,in a shadowed corner of the realm…
All around lay scattered skulls, and to one side a grotesque heap of human bones. Thick webs hung like veils of decay,
yet the narrow path running through the middle was strangely clean…almost reverently so.
A lone figure moved through the darkness, draped in black. Each step rang sharply , thok… thok…
From beneath the fabric, a voice rose low, commanding, deliberate:
""My lady, grant me permission to speak."
Reaching a particular staircase, the man lowered himself to one knee and bowed his head.
"Speak," replied a woman's voice from afar deep, unfamiliar, and unfathomably calm.
At the sound of it, an odd smile curved across the stranger's lips. He began slowly,
"You likely already know why I have come. And perhaps… you too have grown weary of waiting here, sensing what approaches. Do you not think, my lady, that it would be wise to take a certain step?"
The figure's lips curled in a small, unsettling smile as the words spilled, calm, precise, and dark ,
"For a reason, I have long favored you. You have never followed another's desire… yet all are drawn to you. And you… your desire has always been knowledge. Now, having drawn me, do you seek it for yourself… or for your convenience?is it not somewhat for your own benefit ? "
The man lowered his gaze slightly, though his smile remained,
"No one could imagine deceiving you, my lady, nor hiding falsehood from you.
Still…in this matter, the benefit belongs to us both."
As his words faded, the unseen woman rose and began to walk.every movement deliberate, as though guided by the weight of decades, or centuries, beyond her own body From afar,
her hands and feet appeared faintly aged , like those of a withered elder , yet her presence carried something far older than time itself..
MEANWHILE,
Lyanna's chest heaved as her heartbeat pounded against her ribs.
Lyanna… Lyanna… Lyanna…
Her name echoed again and again.
Lyanna didn't know what had happened, only that she could hear it , someone calling her, frantically, relentlessly… as if the voice feared she might vanish if it stopped.