Chapter 3 3

The fortress hummed with life as the moon climbed higher into the night sky. Lyra stepped into the open courtyard, seeking a moment's reprieve from the suffocating confines of stone walls and the endless questions circling her mind. The cool night air offered little comfort, carrying with it the faint scent of damp earth and something metallic that she couldn't quite place.

Above her, the crescent moon hung like a silent sentinel, casting long shadows across the courtyard. Her thoughts returned to Darien's cryptic warning. The shadows... they're coming. The words lingered, whispering possibilities she didn't want to entertain.

A rustle of movement drew her attention to the far end of the courtyard. Two guards stood near the entrance to the eastern wing, their low voices carrying through the stillness. Lyra recognized one of them-he had been present during her initial arrival. His demeanor now seemed different, more guarded.

Curiosity gnawed at her. Something about their hushed conversation felt... wrong. Lyra lingered near the edge of the courtyard, careful to remain in the shadows. She watched as a cloaked figure emerged from the eastern wing, their movements quick and deliberate. The guards nodded respectfully before the figure disappeared into the darkness beyond the gates.

Her instincts flared. Whoever that was, they were no ordinary visitor. Lyra turned to retreat into the fortress, only to find herself face-to-face with Aldric.

His sudden presence startled her, but she quickly masked her reaction. The King's sharp gaze flickered to the direction of the departing figure before settling on her.

"What are you doing out here?" he demanded, his voice low but firm.

"I needed air," Lyra replied, meeting his gaze with measured calm. "The apothecary grows stifling after hours of work."

Aldric's expression remained unreadable, but his tone softened slightly. "You should rest. Exhaustion won't help my brother."

"I'm aware," she said, tilting her chin slightly. "But something is troubling me."

"Troubling you?" His eyes narrowed.

"The poison," Lyra explained, choosing her words carefully. "It's not natural. I believe it carries a magical curse, but I can't identify the source. If I had more information about the attack-"

"You've been given all the information you need," Aldric interrupted, his voice clipped.

The abruptness of his response caught her off guard, but she refused to back down. "Then I'll work with what I have. But if there's something you're not telling me, it could cost Darien his life."

For a moment, Aldric said nothing, his golden eyes locked on hers. The weight of his gaze was almost unbearable, but Lyra held firm. Finally, he sighed, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly.

"I've already told you everything," he said, though his tone lacked conviction. "Focus on the cure, healer. Leave the rest to me."

Without another word, he turned and strode away, his cloak billowing behind him. Lyra watched him disappear into the fortress, her unease growing.

The encounter left her restless. Returning to the apothecary felt pointless, her thoughts too clouded to focus on her work. Instead, she wandered the corridors, her steps quiet against the cold stone. The fortress felt different at night, its shadows deeper and its silence heavier.

A faint sound reached her ears-a soft, rhythmic tapping. Lyra followed it instinctively, her curiosity outweighing her caution. The sound led her to a narrow staircase spiraling downward, its steps worn smooth from centuries of use.

At the bottom of the staircase, a heavy wooden door stood slightly ajar. Beyond it, a dimly lit chamber stretched before her, its walls lined with shelves filled with ancient tomes and scrolls. A figure hunched over a table in the center of the room, their face obscured by the hood of a cloak.

Lyra hesitated in the doorway, her instincts warning her to leave. But before she could retreat, the figure spoke.

"You shouldn't be here."

The voice was male, deep and laced with an edge of warning.

"I could say the same about you," Lyra replied, her voice steady despite the unease coiling in her chest. "Who are you?"

The figure straightened, lowering his hood to reveal a face marked by sharp features and piercing green eyes. He was younger than she had expected, his expression guarded but not hostile.

"Someone who values his life," he said. "Which is more than I can say for you, wandering the fortress at night."

Lyra stepped further into the room, her curiosity overriding her caution. "What are you doing down here?"

The man regarded her for a moment before gesturing to the table. "Research. The same thing you're likely doing. But unlike you, I'm not risking the King's wrath by being somewhere I don't belong."

The mention of Aldric sent a ripple of unease through her, but Lyra refused to let it show. "You know about the poison, don't you?" she pressed.

His expression darkened. "More than I care to. But that knowledge won't help you. If anything, it'll make things worse."

Lyra's patience wore thin. "I'm trying to save someone's life. If you know something that can help, tell me."

The man hesitated, his gaze flickering to the door before settling on her. "The poison is ancient," he said finally. "A creation of the witches from the eastern territories. It's not just meant to kill-it's meant to corrupt."

"Corrupt?" Lyra repeated, her stomach twisting.

"It doesn't just harm the body," he explained. "It twists the soul. Even if your prince survives, he won't be the same."

The weight of his words hit her like a blow. "How do you know this?"

"Because I've seen it before," he said, his voice grim. "And because the King isn't telling you everything."

Before Lyra could press him further, the sound of approaching footsteps echoed through the corridor. The man's eyes widened, and he grabbed her arm, pulling her toward a hidden alcove.

"Stay quiet," he whispered.

Two guards entered the chamber, their eyes scanning the room. One of them spoke, his voice gruff. "Nothing here. The King will want a report."

They left as quickly as they had come, their footsteps fading into the distance. The man released Lyra's arm, his expression serious.

"You're in over your head," he said. "Leave this place while you still can."

"I can't," she replied firmly. "Not until I save Darien."

He sighed, shaking his head. "Then you'd better be careful. There are forces at work here that even the King can't control."

Without another word, he slipped out of the room, leaving Lyra alone with more questions than answers.

The chamber felt colder now, the shadows pressing closer. Lyra forced herself to leave, her mind racing. The man's warning echoed in her thoughts, but she couldn't abandon her task-not when so much was at stake.

Returning to her chamber, Lyra resolved to uncover the truth. If Aldric wouldn't tell her everything, she would find the answers herself.

Whatever secrets the fortress held, she would uncover them, and she would survive.