The cavern reeked of incense and blood. Lyra sat still, her small hands folded neatly on her lap, eyes fixed on the flickering obsidian flame before her. Dozens of hooded figures surrounded her, chanting in low, guttural tones.
But it wasn't the chanting that unnerved her. It was the silence between each word, the way it seemed to swallow sound and thought alike.
On the dais above, the High Priests bowed low as Draemir's shadow rippled across the flame. His voice slithered into their minds, into Lyra's mind.
> "My faithful… the Vessel has awakened. The Flame stirs. The world tilts toward eclipse."
The cultists shivered with ecstasy. Lyra kept her head bowed, though her heart thudded against her ribs.
---
🐍 The Lesson of Shadows
After the ritual, Lyra was summoned alone into the sanctum. The walls were alive with carvings that seemed to move when she wasn't looking, depicting endless serpents swallowing their tails.
From the ceiling, Draemir's essence coiled downward like a living darkness, filling the chamber with suffocating dread.
"Child," Draemir whispered, his voice echoing inside her skull, "you saw him. The Vessel."
Lyra swallowed. Images flashed in her mind—Rihan's fire, his eyes, the chaos in the courtyard. She had been there, hidden in the smoke, obeying Draemir's command to observe.
"Yes, Master," she whispered. Her voice trembled despite herself. "He… he is stronger than I imagined."
Draemir's chuckle was like chains dragging on stone.
"Good. Strength is the sweetest poison. It lures men into believing they are more than mortal. And then… they break."
His shadow coiled around her wrist, cold as ice.
"You will be the serpent in his dreams, Lyra. The whisper in his ear. Win his trust. Break his guard. When the time comes, you will lead him to me."
Lyra's breath hitched.
"B-but what if he resists?"
The shadows tightened, making her wince.
"Then you will make him want it."
---
🌑 Cracks in Faith
When Draemir vanished back into the flame, Lyra collapsed to her knees. Her hands shook violently, though she clenched them into fists to stop it.
She had sworn loyalty. She had spilled blood for the cult. She had walked the path Draemir carved. And yet—
When she saw Rihan fight, when she saw the way he stood between Elira and death, something inside her had stirred. Something that Draemir's whispers could not silence.
"Why… why does it feel different when he fights?" she murmured, clutching her chest. "Why does it hurt here?"
But she had no answer. Only the flame, flickering hungrily, as if mocking her weakness.
---
🕯️ The Grand Design
The High Priests summoned her again that night. This time, they showed her the maps—kingdom borders, sacred ruins, ley-lines glowing with mana.
"We are preparing the Eclipse Convergence," one intoned, his voice gravel. "Seven sacrifices. Seven pillars of flame. And when the Vessel steps into the circle, Draemir will rise fully."
Lyra stared at the maps, at the points where kingdoms would burn, and something cold spread through her veins.
Seven sacrifices. Entire cities. Hundreds of thousands of lives.
She closed her eyes tightly, forcing her voice steady.
"Yes… I understand."
But in her heart, doubt took root.
---
🌒 A Serpent's Whisper
That night, as she lay awake in the cult's barracks, Lyra couldn't stop thinking of his eyes.
Rihan's eyes weren't like Draemir's. They weren't hunger or shadow. They burned with something else. Something… human.
Her lips parted before she could stop herself.
"…Rihan."
The name slipped out like a secret she shouldn't have spoken.
And in the silence of the night, the serpent within her coiled tighter, waiting.