Cedric put down his soaking wet coat on the other side of the room, hanging it over an old chair to dry. He walked back towards the group huddled around the fire, the warm glow illuminating their tired faces. The fire crackled softly, casting flickering shadows on the walls.
"Magnus," Cedric called, motioning for him to come over.
Magnus looked up, a curious expression on his face. "What's up?" he asked, getting to his feet and approaching Cedric.
"We need to scout the manor," Cedric said, his voice low and serious. "An abandoned manor in the middle of the woods… it’s either been used by thieves or people smuggling stuff. I want to make sure this place is really empty and safe."
Magnus nodded, understanding the caution. "Alright, let's go," he agreed, grabbing his axe and checking it briefly before heading towards the door.
Cedric and Magnus left the room, the sound of the rain outside muffling their footsteps. Tristan, Elysia, and Liora remained by the fire, the warmth and light providing a small comfort amidst the storm.
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Elysia was sitting by the fire, its warm glow casting a soft light on her face. She cradled Liora, who was sleeping soundly, her small body nestled against Elysia’s side. The rhythmic crackling of the fire was soothing, a stark contrast to the turmoil they had faced.
Tristan approached quietly, carrying a piece of cloth from the wagon. He moved with care, not wanting to disturb Elysia or Liora. Gently, he draped the cloth over Elysia’s shoulders, ensuring it covered both her and the child, adding an extra layer of warmth against the chill.
Elysia stirred, her eyes fluttering open as she felt the added warmth. She looked up and saw Tristan standing there, his expression kind and thoughtful. "Thank you," she said softly, her voice a gentle murmur in the quiet room.
Tristan shifted slightly, his gaze meeting hers. "About what happened yesterday..." he began, his voice tinged with embarrassment. He looked away briefly, rubbing the back of his neck as if searching for the right words.
Elysia's cheeks flushed a deep crimson as memories of the previous day rushed back to her. She recalled every detail vividly, her heart beating a little faster. The awkwardness, the unexpected closeness all played out in her mind, making her feel flustered.
She tried to compose herself, but the intensity of the memory made it difficult. Elysia glanced at Tristan, noticing his own discomfort. His face was slightly red, and his usually confident demeanor was replaced with a rare moment of vulnerability.
> "Miss priestess! Miss Elysia! Wait for me!" Tristan called out, his voice carrying a note of urgency as he hurried after her. His steps were quick, the soft thud of his boots against the ground marking his approach.
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> Elysia had walked away from the group, needing a moment to herself. She found a quiet spot behind one of the huts and sat down on a stump, her mind racing with thoughts. Hearing Tristan's voice, she glanced up and saw him approaching. Her heart skipped a beat.
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> Tristan slowed as he neared her, his expression earnest. "I'm sorry about earlier," he began, his voice sincere. "I didn’t mean to be undressed in front of you. It was inappropriate."
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> Elysia quickly covered her face with her hands, her cheeks burning. "It’s fine, Your Highness," she mumbled, though the image of his firm chest lingered in her mind. She couldn't help but feel a surge of embarrassment and curiosity. She wanted to take a closer look but knew she shouldn't. Her face grew even redder, and she turned away, hoping to hide her reaction.
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> Tristan took a step closer, his eyes soft with understanding. He gently reached out and took her hand, his touch light but reassuring. "I really am sorry, Elysia," he said, his voice gentle. He wanted to convey his apology properly, to make her understand that it was a genuine mistake.
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> Just then, the children who had been playing nearby came running past, their laughter filling the air. One of them stumbled into Tristan, causing him to lose his balance. In a split second, he fell forward, unable to stop his momentum.
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> Elysia, surprised by the sudden movement, looked up just as Tristan's lips accidentally brushed against hers. The world seemed to pause for a moment. Her eyes widened in shock, her heart pounding in her chest. Tristan's face mirrored her surprise, the accidental kiss leaving them both stunned.
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> The moment passed as quickly as it had come. Tristan pulled back, his face flushing with a mix of embarrassment and confusion. "I-I’m sorry," he stammered, struggling to find his words.
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> Elysia, equally flustered, tried to respond, but her voice caught in her throat. The feeling of the brief, unintended kiss hung in the air between them, creating a new, unspoken connection that neither of them had anticipated.
Elysia felt a wave of flustered emotions wash over her as she thought back to that unexpected moment with Tristan. She could still feel the warmth of his lips against hers, the memory causing her cheeks to flush. Trying to compose herself, she attempted to hide her face, but Tristan sat right beside her. Their eyes met, and for a moment, they looked at each other deeply, the connection between them palpable.
Just then, Liora started screaming, her voice filled with terror. It was the sound of a child in the throes of a nightmare. Elysia quickly turned her attention to the little girl, scooping her up and holding her close. "It's okay, Liora. You're safe," she whispered, trying to soothe her. But Liora's cries only intensified, her small body trembling.
As Elysia held Liora, she noticed a dark aura enveloping the child. A chill ran down her spine. "Is this a curse? Or black magic?" she muttered, her voice tinged with worry. Without wasting a moment, Elysia began to channel her healing power into Liora, her hands glowing softly. Gradually, the dark aura started to dissipate, and Liora's cries subsided.
Liora opened her eyes, tears streaming down her face. "It hurts... like someone is trying to hurt me," she whimpered, her voice filled with fear and pain.
Elysia looked at Tristan, concern etched on her face. "Something's wrong in this manor," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "I can't sense anything specific, but there's definitely something malevolent here."
Tristan's expression hardened, worry for Liora mixing with a sense of urgency. "We need to find out what's causing this," he said firmly. "And we need to check on Cedric and Magnus. They should have been back by now."
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On the other side of the manor, Cedric and Magnus carefully checked each room, their steps cautious and deliberate. Every room they entered was empty and dusty, adding to the eerie silence that enveloped the building. The manor seemed to be a place where time had stopped, the thick layers of dust and cobwebs telling tales of long-abandoned secrets.
As they moved deeper into the manor, they reached a splitting hallway, separating the left and right wings of the house. They paused, exchanging a glance.
"We should split up," Cedric suggested. "You take the left wing, and I'll go right. Meet back here in a few minutes."
Magnus nodded, gripping his axe a bit tighter. "Alright. Be careful."
Cedric moved down the right hallway, a tunnel of shadows broken only by the occasional flicker of lightning through grimy windows.
The heavy rain drummed incessantly against the glass, a haunting rhythm that seemed to follow him. Each door he passed was closed, the brass handles cold and unyielding under his touch.
He opened the first door cautiously, the hinges groaning in protest. The room beyond was a library, its shelves lined with dusty tomes. Cobwebs draped from the ceiling like tattered curtains, and a faint, musty odor filled the air.
The rain's relentless beat and the oppressive silence within the manor created an unsettling dichotomy that gnawed at Cedric’s nerves.
Cedric moved on, each step raising small clouds of dust from the threadbare carpet. The next room was a parlor, the furniture shrouded in white sheets that looked like ghostly figures in the dim light.
Cedric’s breath fogged the air as he crossed the room, the silence punctuated by the occasional drip of water from a leak in the ceiling. He felt the weight of the manor's history pressing down on him, every shadow whispering of secrets long buried.
The hallway stretched out before him, an endless corridor of darkness punctuated by the occasional flicker of lightning. The heavy rain outside hammered against the windows, each drop sounding like a ghostly tap, adding to the oppressive atmosphere.
The walls seemed to close in around him, the air growing colder with each step he took. The smell of mildew and decay filled his nostrils, a testament to the manor's long abandonment.
As Cedric reached for the next door handle, the metal felt unnaturally cold against his skin. The door creaked open, revealing a room cloaked in darkness. He stepped inside, his footsteps muffled by a thick layer of dust that covered the floor.
The room was eerily silent, save for the faint sound of his own breathing. Cedric's heart pounded in his chest, each beat echoing loudly in his ears.
Lightning flashed, illuminating the room for a brief moment. In that instant, Cedric saw shadows dancing along the walls, twisted and contorted figures that seemed to writhe and twist with a life of their own.
The light faded, plunging the room back into darkness. Cedric’s eyes strained to adjust, but the oppressive blackness was absolute.
A sudden gust of wind howled through the broken windows, sending a shiver down Cedric’s spine. The curtains fluttered like ghostly apparitions, their tattered edges whispering secrets of the past.
Cedric tightened his grip on his sword, his senses on high alert. The manor seemed to breathe around him, each creak of the floorboards a reminder that he was not alone.
He moved deeper into the room, his eyes scanning for any signs of danger. The furniture was old and decayed, covered in a thick layer of dust. A grand piano stood in the corner, its keys exposed and yellowed with age.
Cedric’s footsteps echoed in the emptiness, a stark contrast to the deafening silence that surrounded him.
Suddenly, a chill ran down his spine. Cedric froze, his breath hitching in his throat. The air around him grew colder, the temperature dropping rapidly.
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His breath fogged in front of him, and he could see his own reflection in the cracked mirror on the wall. The reflection seemed to move on its own, the eyes following him with an unnatural intensity.
Cedric's hand trembled as he reached for the door on the opposite side of the room. The handle was ice-cold, sending a jolt of fear through his body. He turned it slowly, the door creaking open to reveal a narrow staircase leading down into the darkness. The air grew colder still, the silence almost deafening.
With a deep breath, Cedric descended the stairs, each step echoing loudly in the confined space. The walls seemed to close in around him, the darkness pressing in from all sides. He could hear the faint sound of water dripping somewhere in the distance, a steady rhythm that added to the oppressive atmosphere.
As he reached the bottom of the stairs, Cedric found himself in a small, dimly lit room. The air was thick with the scent of mildew and decay, and he could see his breath fogging in front of him.
The room was filled with old, decaying furniture, covered in a thick layer of dust. Shadows danced along the walls, twisting and contorting with a life of their own.
In the center of the room stood a single chair, facing a cracked window. The glass was shattered, rainwater seeping in and pooling on the floor. A faint breeze stirred the tattered curtains, the only movement in the otherwise still room. Cedric's heart pounded in his chest, his senses on high alert.
He noticed another door in the room, partially hidden behind the shadows. He hesitated, the oppressive silence weighing heavily on him. Gathering his courage, he stepped forward and reached for the handle. The door creaked open, and Cedric was blinded by a sudden burst of light.
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Balloons floated to the ceiling, and party poppers exploded with colorful confetti. People clapped and cheered, their voices a cacophony of congratulations. Cedric stood in the doorway, his heart pounding in confusion.
The room looked completely out of place—square with pristine white wallpaper, the kind of modern setting he couldn’t quite place. It seemed like what he thought a modern room should look like, but his memories were fragmented and uncertain.
How did he get here? He had been walking through the old manor just moments ago. The eerie, decrepit halls of the manor had been replaced by this bizarrely festive scene.
Everyone in the room continued to cheer, their smiles wide and welcoming. Cedric’s eyes scanned the crowd, and to his shock, he saw Tristan, Elysia, and Magnus among them. But they had been in the room with the fireplace, and Magnus had gone the other way.
"What?" Cedric muttered, stepping into the room, his mind spinning.
“Congratulations!” An older couple rushed forward, hugging him tightly. “We’re so proud of you, Cedric!”
Cedric pulled back, his confusion deepening. The setting resembled the modern world he vaguely remembered. Faces that should have been familiar beamed at him, calling him by a name that felt foreign.
He glanced around, trying to grasp the reality of the situation, feeling a strange disconnect between what he was experiencing and what he remembered.
“Come on, Cedric. Let’s celebrate!” They led him to a table with a congratulatory cake, the room filled with the sounds of celebration and joy. Cedric’s mind raced, trying to piece together the fragments of his memories, struggling to understand how he had ended up here.
The cake was decorated with bright frosting and cheerful writing, a stark contrast to the dark, oppressive atmosphere of the manor he had just been exploring. Cedric’s hands trembled slightly as he was handed a knife to cut the cake, his mind still reeling from the abrupt and bewildering shift in his surroundings.
He looked at Tristan, Elysia, and Magnus, their expressions joyful and encouraging, as if this celebration was the most natural thing in the world. But something was wrong, deeply wrong. Cedric's instincts screamed at him to be cautious, to not let his guard down.
This can't be real, Cedric thought, feeling a growing sense of dread. Illusion? Curse? He tried to anchor himself in reality, refusing to succumb to whatever was happening. But the warmth of the elderly couple's hug felt too real, the sensation lingering on his skin.
Everyone in the room started urging him to blow out the candles. Cedric, still confused, leaned forward and blew them out. He felt everything—the wind from his breath, the heat of the flames, and the solid table beneath his hands. The sensory details were overwhelming.
"Happy Birthday, son," the elderly couple said to him. Were they his parents? They looked familiar, but he couldn't focus on their faces due to the blinding light in the room.
They cut the cake and handed him a plate, then led him to a large wooden dining table. The chairs around it looked more like small thrones. Cedric sat down at the head of the table and took a bite of the cake. The sweetness and fluffiness were vivid, making him question the reality even more.
He reached for his diary, hoping to ground himself, but his "father" snatched it away. "You should be smiling at the camera," he said.
The camera was a large, boxy device with a wooden frame. Is that a modern camera? What is modern? Cedric tried to smile, but the uneasiness wouldn't leave him. What is going on? He wondered.
His "mother" came to stand beside him, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Smile, Cedric," she said warmly.
The camera flashed, temporarily blinding him. When his vision cleared, his parents had moved to their seats on the right side of the table, enjoying the cake.
Seizing the moment, Cedric turned to Tristan, who was sitting closest to him on the left. "Tristan, what is going on?"
Tristan looked at him, puzzled. "What do you mean? Everyone came to surprise you on your birthday. Has work taken too much toll on you? Are you tired?"
Cedric felt a strange sense of calm, almost too comforting. It felt like he had finally come back to where he belonged. But questions nagged at him. What about the shrine? What about all the worlds he's been through? What about everyone he met? Was it all just a dream?
Cedric's thoughts swirled in confusion. He needed answers but didn't know where to start. The sensory details were too real, too convincing. He could feel the warmth of the room, the softness of the cake, the weight of his own body. Everything seemed perfect, yet utterly wrong.
Cedric tried to ask Tristan again, his voice filled with urgency. "What about Argoth? What about your father? What happened?"
Tristan looked confused, a nervous twitch playing at the corner of his mouth. "Father... uh... is working! Yes, working at home!" Tristan stammered, his eyes darting around.
Something's not right, Cedric thought, pressing Tristan further. "What's his name? What kind of work does he do?"
Tristan's nervousness deepened. "He... uh... his name is Darius! And—" Tristan was interrupted by Cedric's father, who suddenly appeared beside him.
"Do you want to go outside with me?" Cedric's father asked, not waiting for a response before grabbing Cedric's arm and leading him out of the room.
The outside looked... strange. The buildings and storefronts along the street resembled those in Eryndor but appeared washed out and devoid of color. Cedric's unease grew.
His father walked over to a "car," a carriage-like vehicle with no horse, longer than any carriage Cedric had seen in various worlds. Is this what a modern car looks like? It felt familiar, yet foreign, as if his memories were distorted.
"Cedric, son..." his father called, already seated in the car. "Come buy something with me." They drove through the city, the streets eerily quiet and lifeless.
Cedric, his suspicions mounting, asked, "Father, what is your name?" But his father didn't reply, maintaining a silent grip on the wheel, his eyes focused on the road ahead.
As they drove, Cedric's unease grew. The city around him seemed to blur, the edges of buildings and people blending into an indistinct haze. He glanced at his father, who remained silent, his expression unnervingly blank.
"Where are we going?" Cedric asked, trying to keep his voice steady.
"Just a quick errand," his father replied, his voice flat and devoid of emotion.
They drove to a square building that seemed to sell... carrots? Cedric's confusion deepened as he handed over his father's gold coins to the storeman. The massive building, dedicated solely to vegetables, only added to the sense of wrongness. The storeman accepted the gold coins with an indifferent nod, as if such transactions were entirely ordinary.
Cedric's mind raced as they got back into the vehicle and started the return journey. He stared out of the window, watching the monotonous scenery blur by, the unease gnawing at him. We went out just to get carrots? It didn't make any sense. The outing felt more like a strange ritual than a necessary errand.
"Do we need to get anything else since we're already outside?" Cedric asked, his tone probing for any hint of logic in this bizarre situation.
Again, his father didn't reply, maintaining the same unsettling silence. The vehicle moved smoothly along the road, the quiet hum of the engine the only sound accompanying them.
When they arrived back at what was supposedly Cedric's home, he found himself in front of a palace. He hadn't noticed it before, but did he always live in a palace in his old life? The grand structure loomed over him, its opulence starkly out of place. The palace's intricate architecture and lush gardens seemed almost dreamlike, an uncanny blend of familiarity and alienness.
This is not right, Cedric thought, his mind piecing together the inconsistencies. He may not remember his world, but this can't be real. His name wasn't even Cedric. This name was created because he couldn't say his actual name, even if he couldn't remember it now, it sure as hell was not Cedric.
These people are definitely not my parents, he realized, a cold chill running down his spine. The unsettling calmness of his supposed father, the eerie silence, and the surreal environment all pointed to one conclusion: this was a meticulously crafted illusion.
As they entered the palace, Cedric's father gestured toward a lavishly decorated room. "Why don't you rest here for a while, son?" His father's tone was unnervingly calm, a stark contrast to the turmoil in Cedric's mind.
Cedric nodded slowly, feeling a rising sense of urgency to uncover the truth. "I'll do that," he replied, his voice steady despite the turmoil inside. He walked into the room and closed the door behind him, the heavy wooden door shutting with a resonant thud that seemed to echo through the empty corridors of the palace.
Cedric moved quietly around the room, his eyes scanning for any mirrors. In a palace like this, finding one shouldn't be too hard, he thought. But as he searched, his suspicion grew. Every mirror he found was only a frame, devoid of any reflective surface. Even the windows were made of a strange material that did not reflect anything, further fueling his unease.
He approached the door, opening it just a crack to peek outside. The hallway was empty, a hushed silence hanging in the air. Cedric slipped out of the room, his footsteps muffled by the plush carpet.
The warm light that filled the palace was a stark contrast to the cold, stormy weather he had experienced just a while ago.
Cedric moved cautiously through the empty palace, each room he passed amplifying his sense of isolation. The opulent decor did little to comfort him, the grandeur feeling hollow and surreal. He wandered until he found a set of stairs leading up. With no sign of anyone around, he ascended, the creaking of the steps the only sound breaking the silence.
Reaching the attic, Cedric noticed a tall object draped under a white cloth. His heart quickened, a mix of curiosity and apprehension surging through him. He approached the object, the cloth slightly billowing as he drew near, as if whispering secrets.
Cedric reached out his hand to grab the cloth, his fingers trembling slightly with anticipation. Just as he was about to pull it away, a voice from behind him startled him.
"What are you doing, Cedric?"
He spun around to see his "mother" standing there in the attic with him, her silhouette illuminated by the dim light filtering through a small window. The light cast strange shadows, perfectly blocking him from seeing her face clearly. She stepped closer, arms outstretched as if to embrace him. "Come here, dear. Let me give you a warm hug. Are you hungry? Do you want to eat anything?"
Cedric felt a shiver run down his spine. Even in this attic, a strange, ethereal light managed to create an otherworldly aura around her. It was almost as if the light itself was conspiring to keep her true form hidden from him.
Like it would be that easy for me to go back, he thought to himself bitterly. His "mother" took another step closer, her voice dripping with false concern. "Are you alright, Cedric?"
Cedric, tired of the deceit, took a step back. "Who are you? What are you?" he demanded, his voice firm.
She feigned confusion, her head tilting slightly to the side. "What do you mean, dear? I'm your mother."
Cedric’s eyes narrowed. "I know this isn't real." With a decisive motion, he yanked the cloth off the mirror.
"No!" she screamed, lunging toward him, but it was too late. The mirror reflected not the attic or his "mother" but the room with the chair, showing Cedric standing there alone.
The illusion began to crumble. The vibrant colors and warm light faded, replaced by the dark and dusty atmosphere of the abandoned manor. Cedric watched as the walls of the palace dissolved into the rotting wood and peeling wallpaper of the old manor. His "mother's" form wavered, flickered, and then dissipated into the air like smoke.
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Cedric stood there, the cloth still clutched in his hand, as the reality of the manor reasserted itself around him. The oppressive silence returned, broken only by the distant sound of rain and the creaking of the old house.
He barely had time to process the shift in reality when he felt a chill run down his spine. He turned slowly towards the mirror, feeling an inexplicable pull.
His reflection in the mirror began to move on its own. It stepped forward, the edges of the glass shimmering like water, and sneered at him with a cruel, twisted smile.
"Well, well, look who managed to break through a simple illusion," the reflection mocked, its voice dripping with malice. "Congratulations, Cedric. Or should I say... whatever your name was? Do you even remember it?"
Cedric’s heart pounded in his chest, his breath catching in his throat. The reflection’s words cut deeper than any blade. His past, the life he had before becoming a guardian, was a foggy memory, almost unreachable. He tried to push the thought away, but the reflection pressed on.
"You can't even remember your own name, can you?" it taunted, stepping closer to the glass, its eyes gleaming with a sinister light. "You're nothing but a lost soul, wandering through worlds, pretending to be a savior. Tell me, Cedric, do you really think you fit in anywhere?"
Cedric's hands clenched into fists. The reflection's words echoed in his mind, each one a dagger to his fragile sense of self. He had spent so long trying to protect others, to fulfill his duty as a guardian, but deep down, he always felt out of place, like an unfit cog in the grand machinery of the universe.
"Shut up," Cedric muttered through gritted teeth, but the reflection only laughed.
"And what about those you've failed? The protagonists you couldn't save? What do you think they felt? Their tragedies, their pain... all because you weren't strong enough, weren't clever enough. How many times have you watched them die, Cedric? How many times have you failed?"
The reflection’s words brought back a flood of memories. Faces of those he couldn’t save, their stories ending in sorrow and despair, flashed before his eyes. Each failure was a weight on his soul, a reminder of his own inadequacies.
Cedric tried to steady his breathing, fighting to calm the turmoil within. "What do you want from me?" he asked the reflection, his voice wavering.
The reflection did not answer but continued its relentless taunts. "You'll never be enough, Cedric. Always a step behind, always failing when it matters most."
He couldn't afford to let this get to him. With a surge of anger, he punched the mirror. The glass shattered, the reflection fracturing into countless shards before disappearing altogether.
Shaking off the remnants of the illusion, Cedric knew he needed to get back to his team. Whatever this manor was, it wasn't safe. He rushed out of the room, retracing his steps. The weather outside had worsened, the rainstorm now a torrential downpour that drowned out all other sounds, including his own footsteps.
As Cedric moved through the manor, as he reached the splitting hallway he noticed signs of a struggle. Broken pieces of furniture and scattered debris littered the floor, leading him to fear the worst. He followed the trail, his heart pounding.
Taking the left wing, Cedric hurried down the corridor, his anxiety mounting with each step. The signs of conflict grew more pronounced—overturned chairs, slashed tapestries, and the unmistakable marks of a fierce battle.
At the end of the hallway, he found a door slightly ajar. Pushing it open, Cedric was met with the sight of Tristan and Magnus locked in combat. Tristan, wielding his sword, was desperately trying to block the powerful swings of Magnus's axe. "Magnus! Snap out of it!" Tristan shouted, his voice strained with effort.
Magnus's eyes were wild, his movements erratic and aggressive, as if under some dark influence. Cedric's heart sank at the sight, realizing that whatever malevolent force inhabited this manor had turned his comrade against them.
In the corner of the room, Elysia was huddled with Liora, trying to shield the child from the chaos. Liora was crying, her small body twitching as if she were near a hot flame.
Elysia's hands glowed with a soft light as she used her powers to calm the child, her face etched with concern and exhaustion. "It's okay, Liora. You're safe with me," she whispered, though her eyes betrayed her fear.
"Tristan, hold on!" Cedric yelled, rushing into the room. He needed to find a way to break through to Magnus, to save both him and Tristan from this nightmarish situation.