The nomadic tribe, the Charn-Riders, traveled with the same unsettling silence as the wind. But Lyra felt them. Since that first uncontrolled burst of the Living Light, the emotions of everyone nearby were an unavoidable, overwhelming din. The Charn-Riders felt weariness, hunger, and a deep, patient reverence for the land.
Lyra's mentor, a shaman named Bari, led her towards the edge of the known territory—a jungle border they called the Thorn-Labyrinth.
"The passage to the South is guarded by the Ursa," Bari said, pointing to a thick wall of iridescent, razor-sharp ferns. "It demands tribute. You will pay that tribute."
Lyra frowned. "Tribute? With food?"
Bari shook her head. "The Ursa is a creature of raw Light-energy, Lyra. It doesn't want food. It wants truth. It senses all deception. Your Earth-soul is a lie in this world. It will test your intent."
Lyra felt a spike of cold dread. She could not expose her true identity. Not yet.
They stopped at a low, dark cave entrance choked with vines. Bari placed a hand on Lyra's shoulder. "Remember your rank, Lyra. Initiate, Proficient (L3.III). You have the raw power to heal and to soothe, but you lack the discipline to lie with Light. If you try to command it, you will fail. You must offer it your true heart."
Bari drew a wide circle in the dust and pushed Lyra inside. "Go. Cross the Labyrinth. The Ursa guards the path to the Void Sea plains."
Lyra stepped inside the cave. The air was thick with static. She could feel the enormous, terrifying presence ahead—a vast, pulsing heart radiating aggression.
Elias. I need to find him. The thought, desperate and true, helped solidify her resolve.
She followed the winding path for perhaps a hundred yards before the tunnel opened into a vast, underground chamber. At its center was the Ursa.
It was immense, easily twelve feet tall on all fours, covered in fur that looked like petrified stone. Its eyes were pure, swirling pools of white Light-Aura.
The beast lifted its head and roared. The sound was not just noise; it was a physical shockwave of pure, defensive aggression—a massive, crimson spike of emotion that crashed into Lyra's mind. Lyra staggered back, clutching her head.
The beast's massive form suddenly radiated an image: Intruder. Threat. Chaos.
Lyra knew she couldn't use pure Light energy to fight it; the Ursa was essentially a living battery of the same element, far more powerful. She had to use the Whisper.
She closed her eyes and focused on the ache in her chest—the raw, undeniable pain of being separated from Elias. That emotion was pure, honest, and had no anchor in Aethelgard's current reality.
She channeled the Living Light into her hands, but instead of pushing it out, she molded it into an internal conduit. She was trying to achieve L4.I (Adept, Novice), the ability to shape the attribute into defined forms, but her lack of control made the Light surge violently.
I am not from here. I am lost. I am looking for my other half. I need passage. I mean no harm.
She projected the thought, not as words, but as a cascade of luminous, golden images: the memory of the crash, the feeling of Elias's hand, the burning void in her chest, and the sheer, overwhelming loneliness that was her only truth.
The Ursa stopped roaring. Its head dipped low. The crimson emotional spike receded, replaced by a slow, heavy wave of curiosity mixed with ancient sorrow.
Lyra watched, mesmerized, as the pure Light-Aura in the Ursa's eyes swirled faster. It was reading her soul.
Suddenly, the Ursa lunged forward, not to attack, but to pin her with its gaze. A crushing, mental demand filled her mind: SHOW ME THE WHOLE TRUTH!
Lyra's raw power surged. Her L3.III Light was powerful enough to show the beast the memory, but the control wasn't there. If she pushed the memory, the Light would be a chaotic flood, revealing the truth of the Rift and potentially attracting the Void Keepers' attention.
She fought the urge, sweat beading on her forehead. I can only give you the truth of my sorrow.
With a monumental effort of will (the discipline Bari spoke of), Lyra shaped the surging Light into a tight, narrow channel—a difficult act of control. She pushed only the memory of Elias, filtering out the cosmic scale of the transmigration.
The Ursa's sorrow deepened. It roared, but this time, the sound was filled with a resonant, empathic understanding. The immense weight of its fur settled, and slowly, the beast stepped aside, opening a narrow path along the cave wall.
"Go, Lyra Lyras," a profound, mental Whisper echoed in her mind, a voice that sounded like wind on stone. "Your Light is dangerous, but your sorrow is true. The Wilds grant you passage. But the way to the Void Sea is paved with your pain."
Lyra gasped for breath, the Light receding. The exhaustion was crippling. She had successfully channeled her L3.III power to bypass the guard without violence, but she felt as if she had run a marathon, and the taste of the Ursa's sorrow lingered in her mouth. She stumbled forward, into the path, now realizing that every step toward Elias would demand a price paid in her own agonizing Light.