The air around them grew colder as they left the valley behind, with the ruins of the mountain fading into the distance. A heavy silence hung between them, only interrupted by the soft crunch of their footsteps on the stony path. The weight of what had just transpired was still fresh, and the group seemed lost in their own thoughts. Kalmaran, however, couldn’t shake the unease crawling up his spine. Something wasn’t right.

“We need to talk about what happened back there,” Valen finally broke the silence, his tone grim. “What Lysara did—”

“It wasn’t me,” Lysara interrupted, her voice barely above a whisper. She wrapped her arms around herself, as though trying to protect herself from the truth. “At least… it didn’t feel like it was me.”

Kalmaran glanced over at her, his eyes narrowing slightly. He had seen power like that before—once. In the wrong hands, it could destroy kingdoms. But in Lysara’s hands, it was still an enigma. “We need answers,” he said, his voice low but firm. “And fast.”

Velora, walking beside Lysara, kept her gaze on the horizon. “We won’t find answers out here in the open. We need to reach the Oracle.”

The Oracle. Kalmaran had heard the name whispered in taverns and spoken in ancient scrolls. A being older than time itself, said to possess knowledge of all things—past, present, and future. If anyone could explain what was happening to Lysara, it would be the Oracle. But reaching the Oracle wasn’t going to be easy. The path ahead was fraught with danger, and there were forces at play they still didn’t fully understand.

“There’s something else,” Velora continued, her voice edged with concern. “When the figure spoke, he said the crystal and Lysara belonged to him. What does that mean?”

Kalmaran didn’t answer right away. He was still turning the words over in his mind. The crystal—the ancient relic they had found—had been dormant for centuries. But somehow, it had awakened in Lysara’s presence. He couldn’t dismiss the connection between the two, yet the implications were terrifying.

“It means,” Kalmaran finally said, “that there’s more to Lysara than any of us realized.”

Lysara looked up, her eyes wide with fear. “But I don’t know why this is happening to me. I never asked for any of this.”

“None of us did,” Kalmaran said, his tone softening. “But that doesn’t change the fact that we’re in it now. And we need to find out why.”

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As they pressed on, the landscape around them shifted. The once rocky terrain gave way to dense, twisted woods, the trees looming like dark sentinels over the narrow path. The air grew thick with the scent of damp earth and something else… something faintly metallic.

Velora stopped abruptly, her eyes scanning the woods. “We’re not alone.”

Kalmaran’s hand instinctively went to the hilt of his sword. “What is it?”

Before she could answer, a figure stepped out from the shadows—tall and cloaked, with a hood pulled low over their face. There was something familiar about the way they moved, a fluid grace that immediately set Kalmaran on edge.

“Who are you?” Kalmaran demanded, his voice steady but firm.

The figure didn’t answer right away. Instead, they reached up, pulling back their hood to reveal a woman with sharp features and piercing green eyes that glimmered with something like mischief. “You’re heading to the Oracle, aren’t you?”

Kalmaran’s grip tightened on his sword. “What’s it to you?”

The woman smirked. “You’ll never make it in time. The Oracle’s already dead.”

A chill ran down Kalmaran’s spine, and he could feel the tension ripple through the group. Lysara’s gasp was audible. “Dead?” she whispered. “But how—?”

The woman took a step closer, her eyes never leaving Kalmaran’s. “He’s been dead for days now. Killed by the same dark force you’re running from.”

Valen cursed under his breath. “Then we’re too late. We’re on a fool’s quest.”

But the woman shook her head, a glint of amusement in her eyes. “Not necessarily. I know another way to get the answers you seek.”

Kalmaran eyed her warily. “And why should we trust you?”

The woman shrugged, an easy smile playing on her lips. “You don’t have to. But I think you’ll find that I know a lot more than the Oracle ever did.”

“Who are you?” Velora asked, her voice filled with suspicion.

The woman met Velora’s gaze, her smile widening. “The name’s Lyrith. And if you want to survive what’s coming next, you’ll follow me.”

Kalmaran exchanged a glance with Valen, then Velora. This was a risk, but what choice did they have? The Oracle was dead, and time was running out. They needed answers—desperately.

“Fine,” Kalmaran said, his voice steely. “But if you lead us into a trap, you won’t live long enough to regret it.”

Lyrith’s smile didn’t falter. “Fair enough.”

As they followed her into the deep woods, Lysara hung back slightly, her face still pale from the news. The Oracle had been their last hope, the one beacon of knowledge they had been counting on to explain the strange events surrounding her. And now, he was gone.

Kalmaran walked beside her, sensing her unease. “We’ll find another way,” he said softly.

“But what if there isn’t one?” Lysara asked, her voice trembling. “What if… what if I’m the reason all of this is happening? What if it’s my fault?”

Kalmaran didn’t have an answer for her. Not yet. But he couldn’t let her lose hope. “Whatever happens, we’ll face it together. You’re not alone in this.”

For the first time since the battle in the valley, Lysara managed a small, fragile smile. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to remind Kalmaran why they were fighting. They had to keep moving forward, no matter how dark the path became.

The night was closing in fast, and with it, an eerie sense of foreboding. But Kalmaran knew they had no choice but to trust Lyrith for now. Even if it led them deeper into the unknown.