---
Lira
Three days.
That's how long they were gone.
Three full, dragging, pulse-pounding days since I last saw their faces disappear past the ridge line. And they hadn't told me where they were going—not exactly. Just that they had to follow the pulse again. Track the shard's signal. And like fools, they'd left me behind. Like always.
I didn't know the old well had anything to do with it. Not until I overheard the villagers whispering about sealed places and ancient trials. Not until I looked up the old texts myself and pieced together just how deep they'd gone.
And now, standing here, breath stuck in my throat, I saw them.
Marcel and Tarin. Stumbling out of the forest path, clothes dusty, cuts on their arms, and yet somehow... smiling. Relaxed. Home.
My heart clenched. I ran toward them before I could think, before the fear could finish shifting into rage.
"You absolute idiots!" I shouted.
But my arms wrapped around them both with shaking relief.
"Lira—"
"Shut up," I mumbled into Marcel's shoulder. "I hate you both. So much."
Tears stung my eyes. I didn't care. The three-day knot in my chest finally came loose.
They stood quietly, letting me hold them, no smart remarks. Just warmth.
---
Marcel
He hadn't realized how heavy the air down there had been until he stepped back into sunlight. The weight fell from his shoulders like a shed skin. The whispering of the system dulled. The shard on his palm pulsed softly, but not urgently.
They were home. For now.
Tarin leaned against the fence, breathing in like it was his first breath in days. Which, honestly, it felt like. "I forgot what trees smelled like."
"I forgot what not dying felt like," Marcel muttered.
Lira scowled. "Would one of you like to explain what in the void just happened?"
Marcel looked at Tarin. Tarin looked at Marcel. Of course she didn't know. Not all of it.
"We found someone," Marcel said slowly. "Not someone alive, exactly. More like... someone waiting."
"Who?" Lira asked, surprised.
"A lady" Tarin said.
"Name?" Lira asked, still confused.
"She didn't give one," Marcel said. "She was part of something old. A Sentinel."
"Wait—Sentinel?" Lira's brows lifted. "Is that like... the Nine?"
Marcel shook his head. "No. Different. The Nine are... rulers. Or were. Always appeared as Faceless tyrants who buried truth in fire. The Sentinels, though—seem like they were guardians. Watchers. Meant to preserve the balance. One of them was chained beneath the well. She gave us a warning."
Lira blinked. "So she was a prisoner?"
"She was shattered," Marcel corrected. "And the Nine made sure she stayed that way."
Lira looked between them, then at the glowing shard still dimly etched into Marcel's palm. Her voice dropped. "And the shard... it connects you to all of this?"
Marcel nodded.
"I can't see whatever you see," Tarin said looking at Marcel. "But I know when it pulls on Marcel. I feel it through the bond. I think it helped me—perhaps because I was close to Marcel. It's not mine. It's his" he whispered looking at me.
I studied their faces, letting my mind try to wrap around it all. Three days they were gone—gone to face something I couldn't see, tied to a history I didn't understand.
But the fear was still there. Coiled in my chest.
"I had dreams," I whispered. "Not visions. Dreams. The kind where shadows flickered at the windows, and the trees screamed when the wind touched them."
Marcel stiffened slightly.
"I think," I continued, "something in me knew. Maybe not what—but that you were touching something old. Something angry."
Tarin reached out, squeezing my hand. "It was bad. But we're back."
"For how long?" I whispered.
---
Later that evening, we sat by the firepit outside. The stars blinked above like old gods watching through gauze.
Marcel finally began to explain everything. The chained woman. The vision. The Nine watching from the dais. And the way it wasn't the first time they reached out to him.
"They're waking," he said. "And whatever they buried... it's rising again. We're caught in the pull of it."
"Then we pull back," I said.
He gave a tired smile. "It's not that simple."
Tarin threw a twig into the flames. "Marcel wants to grow stronger—without relying on the system. He's afraid of losing himself."
"You already started changing, haven't you?" I asked, watching Marcel closely. "Your eyes aren't as soft as they used to be."
He flinched, just slightly.
"Yeah," he admitted. "I don't want to wake up one day and realize there's nothing left of me but commands and power."
Silence fell again, broken only by the fire's crackle.
"And the Sentinel?" I asked. "What happens now?"
"She remembers the truth," Marcel said. "And if we're going to survive what's coming, we need that truth."
"So," I said, trying to sound braver than I felt, "you're going back out there?"
"Soon," he nodded.
I stood up and dusted off my skirt. "Then next time—try telling me. Or I swear I'll drag you both back by the ears."
"Always treating me like a child," I added, rolling my eyes with a smirk.
Tarin laughed. "Well, you do throw like one."
I picked up a pebble and nailed him in the shoulder.
"Lucky shot!"
The night grew quieter around us, but no longer suffocating. We were together again. Wounds still healing, questions still unanswered—but together.
And for now, that was enough.
...
A/N
Lira knows that much because she read ancients texts.