Lyra froze, her breath catching. ‘It can't be.’
Her skin was covered in rolling sweat. She had run—no sprinted—for half an hour and had just reached the area where Moravian had wanted her. She had finally reached the spot after pushing herself to her physical limits. Moravian had told her that he would be on top of the largest building.
‘Please, it can't be him. It must be someone else.’
Her mind raced as she rushed over to the edge of the street. Despite her tumultuous emotions, Lyra did not lose herself. She proceeded cautiously and ensured the street was clear and unwatched before running down it toward the large square.
Upon reaching it, she hugged the wall by the street and peeked her head around the corner. A muteness overtook Lyra’s mind as she deciphered the image before her. Her face went blank, and her heart stopped. Her previous exhaustion, which had been so present in her mind just seconds before, was gone; It was overtaken by the shock of seeing a crumpled grey corpse sprawled on the arid sandstone floor.
The corpse—no Moravian—had landed on his left arm. The appendage had twisted into a grotesque image. It was like an abstract painter representing a Draugr. His arm was splayed and bent at an unnatural angle. A splatter of blood had erupted from where he had landed, and specks of it coated his body. His head was facing the sky, and to Lyra’s shock, his face was undamaged.
“Moravian,” she whispered, gulping down tears. His eyes were full of emotion, and she could see a single tear stuck on his pale face, unmoving.
She tried to move him, but her fatigue returned in a gust. Her arms lacked the energy to lift the Draugr’s body. In addition to her weakness, Lyra was also out of time. She scrambled about the corpse but was soon spotted by one of the nearby powerful grade one commanders.
Lyra’s breath shook before she purposefully steadied it and looked down at Moravians’ corpse, her eyes somber. She nodded in respect; “We will not forget you, Moravian.”
“It's another one of those rebels!” A prim female voice shouted—breaking the tense silence. Lyra flinched—it was her time. Legs moving fast, Lyra sprinted out of the clearing. “Get her!”
‘I need to survive! The others need to know of this.’ Lyra thought, her face creased with stress. She sprinted down the single road. The blue energy running with her was reliable and consistent; she knew exactly how much energy she had left and how much longer she could run at this speed. It wasn’t much or long.
She cursed internally, throwing a look over her soldiers; ‘Three of them!’ she thought incredulously, ‘Three of the dark-damned commanders.’ She flinched as she thought that. Even in the privacy of her brain, Lyra’s upbringing had grown a terminal fear of the dark-damned. If her mother knew that she was cursing using their name…
‘Who cares? Mother is not here.’ She thought with a scowl, annoyed at her own timidness. Zeroing in on her only goal, Lyra pushed more steady blue energy into her legs. He could not sustain it for long, and the strain was physically painful. ‘I just need to reach the end of this road, then I'm free!’
Lungs and legs burning, Lyra ducked as she sensed a fiery ball of energy fly past her. Behind her were the three commanders and behind them, the regular soldiers. Stonily, Lyra dodged more and more attacks. Luckily, only two of the three commanders seemed capable of ranged attacks. Unluckily, the two commanders that could use ranged attacks possessed the two deadliest pure attack-focused spectrums: red and orange. ‘I can't even fight back.’ Lyra thought, biting her lip. The last commander was a stalwart amber cultivator.
The near mile-long run seemed to stretch on for infinity, but after only a few minutes of scrambling and dodging, Lyra reached it. A small smile lit up her face, ‘Just enough left, perfect.’
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Just as Lyra reached the end of the street, she didn’t sprint around the corner like the commander would have expected. Instead, she stopped in her tracks and faced the approaching enemies. Closing her eyes, Lyra focused her remaining energy in her hands. The feeling was beautiful—as it always was. The tranquil blue energy calmed the user while also being one of the most destructive spectrums.
Lyra could hear the commander's approach. Their heavy boots clomped against the sandstone road—closing in. Lyra’s eyes snapped open, and just as they did, her hands surged forward like a water hose. Deep blue water surged out in a square pattern. It formed into a stiff wall. There was just enough water needed to cover the pathway, and the previous disadvantage that the thin road had yielded flipped on its head. “Blue Wall”
Lyra’s heartbeat after she cast the ability. It was one of her most difficult abilities to cast, and it had done its job. Just as Lyra began sprinting away, she saw that the Three commanders were helplessly pounding against the transparent blue barrier.
Breathing heavily, ignoring the pain and fatigue, Lyra sprinted away. She didn’t know exactly where the camp was, so she traveled in its general direction, hoping to find someone or something to guide her.
One thought kept running through her mind as she ran. ‘How do we win now?’
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“So, they have come.” A man spoke.
In a deep cavern of crystal and spikes stood a man. He held a singular torch that lit a small radius of the large cave. The space was polished and almost seemed to be manmade due to its symmetry. It was a perfect oval, with stylistic engravings on the crystal-speckled stone ground.
“They have appeared, wishing to reclaim you?” the man spoke again. No one else was in the cave, and the man stood alone, facing one of the massive walls. He was a tall man with defined muscles through his silken clothes. He was older—well past his middle age—with a scruffy grey and white beard. His buzzed hair made him look like a military man, but his round face and expensive-looking garments argued against that possibility. In his hand was one torch that he held far in front of him, away from his blue and gold silk robes.
He was facing the cavern wall as he spoke, even though there was seemingly no one there. “Is this the work of the boundless old friend?”
No answer came, but a light rumbling did shake the cavern for a strangely long period of time. “Mhm, their foul legacy runs deep.” The man grunted, nodding his head, “Is it too late to fight back. I know I am old now, and cannot battle them like I once could, but you know that me and mine will fight to the death for you."
Again, no audible response was heard. It appeared that the man was talking to himself. However, a low rumble once again shook the cavern. The man had already braced himself and did not tumble as an unprepared man would. This earthquake was slightly longer than the previous one, causing dust to fall from the high ceiling.
The man audibly sighed while scratching his bearded chin, “I know, I know, but do you really think this is it. We’ve battled their kind since the era of spacewalkers. Why stop now?”
Again, a rumble, and again, the man seemed unsurprised by the event. Though after the rumbling ended, his face seemed to sink ever so slightly. A somber darkness shadowed his expression in the dark cavern. He pursed his head and nodded slightly, the metal wreath above his spectrum crystal bobbing. The man’s crystal was quite strange, it was blank, much like the air cultivator, and yet for some reason throughout the blank crystal, like paint on a canvas, were thin lines of red. They shifted and moved through the blank crystal. It was as if the crystal was a cage to contain them.
“So, it is finally time then.” The man murmured with a small smile. The expression was melancholic and remembered an older time—a better time. He let out a low chuckle as he stood there. It echoed in the cavern, the bellowing noises reaching no one but himself. “They always do win don’t they old friend.”
The rumble appeared, this time it sounded different, seemingly, remorseful.
“Yes yes, I know you can’t do anything.” The man said with a small smile waving his hand in a shooing motion. “We have both tried our best. Now, all we can do is impart the knowledge of the struggle to the young ones.”
A rumble of affirmation came. “Thank you, old friend, we will see.”
Another rumble.
“Yes, that would be good. I still need to attend to the city.” The man said, looking at a small golden watch-like device on his wrist. The golden ornament shimmered for a moment, before stopping and going dull. The man shimmered in a magnificent array of colors before disappearing from the cavern.
Once again, as it has always been, the cavern returned to silence. There was no opening for miners or explorers. There was nothing to be found and nothing to be lost. It simply didn’t exist unless the world itself wished so.