章 3: Chapter 3: The Mark of Eryndor

The castle loomed ahead, its ancient spires reaching into the blood-red sky like the claws of a forgotten beast. Lyla couldn't shake the chill that crept up her spine as she and Alaric crossed the threshold. The gates groaned open, revealing a courtyard bathed in an eerie crimson glow. Statues of warriors long gone stood guard, their faces worn and weathered, but their eyes seemed to follow her every step.

Alaric walked beside her in silence, his face unreadable. There was an unspoken weight between them, one that had grown heavier since the dragon's defeat. Lyla wanted to ask him what he meant by his cryptic warning—that something within her was tied to the darkness of this world. But every time she opened her mouth, the words failed her.

The entrance hall of the castle was vast, its high ceilings supported by pillars carved with runes that pulsed faintly. Shadows danced across the walls, their shapes twisting unnaturally in the flickering torchlight. Lyla felt the air grow heavier, pressing against her chest, but she refused to show fear. Not here. Not now.

Alaric led her through the hall, his movements precise, as if he knew every step by heart. Finally, they stopped before a large door etched with an intricate sigil—a circle enclosing a serpentine figure with wings spread wide. The symbol radiated power, and Lyla felt an odd pull toward it, her hand instinctively reaching out.

"Don't," Alaric said sharply, his voice snapping her back to reality. His hand closed over hers, pulling it away from the sigil. "It's not safe."

Lyla blinked, her heart racing. "What is this place?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

"This is the Hall of Reflections," Alaric replied, his tone grave. "It's where truths are revealed—and where lies are punished."

Before Lyla could question him further, Alaric pushed the door open. A wave of cold air washed over them as they stepped inside.

The Hall of Reflections was unlike anything Lyla had ever seen. The walls were lined with mirrors, their surfaces rippling like water. At the center of the room stood a pedestal, atop which rested a glowing orb that seemed to pulse in time with her heartbeat. The air hummed with energy, and Lyla felt a strange warmth in her chest, as if the room itself recognized her presence.

"This is where you'll find answers," Alaric said, his voice echoing in the chamber. "But be warned—the truth can be… painful."

Lyla hesitated, her eyes drawn to the orb. "Why me?" she asked, her voice trembling. "What does this have to do with me?"

Alaric turned to face her, his expression softening. "Because you're not ordinary, Lyla. You never were. There's a power within you, one that the darkness of Eryndor craves. I've been trying to protect you from it, but now… I think it's time you understood."

His words sent a jolt through her. Lyla wanted to argue, to deny it, but deep down, she knew he was right. She had always felt different—an outsider in her own world. And now, here in Eryndor, that feeling had only intensified.

Taking a deep breath, she stepped toward the pedestal. The orb's light grew brighter as she approached, and the warmth in her chest turned into a burning heat. When she reached out to touch it, Alaric's voice stopped her.

"Once you begin, there's no turning back," he warned. "The Hall will show you what you need to see, but it will also test you. If you're not ready…"

"I am ready," Lyla said firmly, cutting him off. She wasn't sure if the words were true, but she knew she couldn't turn away now.

Alaric nodded, his jaw tightening. "Then go."

The moment her fingers brushed the orb, the world around her vanished. She was no longer in the Hall of Reflections. Instead, she stood in a forest bathed in moonlight, its trees tall and ancient. A soft breeze whispered through the leaves, carrying a sense of familiarity. Lyla turned in a slow circle, her heart pounding.

This place… she knew it.

A voice broke the silence, low and melodic. "Do you remember, child of the stars?"

Lyla spun around, her eyes widening as a figure stepped out from the shadows. It was a woman, her silver hair cascading down her back, her eyes glowing like twin suns. She wore a gown that shimmered like starlight, and her presence was both comforting and terrifying.

"Who are you?" Lyla asked, her voice trembling.

The woman smiled, though it didn't reach her eyes. "I am Seraphine, Keeper of the Veil. And you, Lyla, are more than you realize."

Lyla shook her head, confusion and fear warring within her. "I don't understand. Why am I here? What is this place?"

"This is your past," Seraphine said, gesturing to the forest around them. "Or rather, a fragment of it. You were born under the blood moon, a child of both light and shadow. The power within you is ancient, tied to the very fabric of Eryndor. But that power comes at a price."

"What price?" Lyla demanded, her voice rising. "What are you talking about?"

Seraphine's gaze turned sad. "The darkness seeks to consume you, to bend your will and make you its pawn. If it succeeds, Eryndor will fall. But if you master it…" She paused, her expression unreadable. "You could become the savior this world has been waiting for."

Lyla felt her knees weaken. "I'm just… me. I can't be what you're saying."

"You are stronger than you know," Seraphine said, stepping closer. "But strength alone is not enough. You must make a choice, Lyla. Will you embrace the darkness within you, or will you fight it?"

The forest began to blur, the edges of the vision dissolving. Seraphine's voice grew distant as she spoke her final words. "Choose wisely, child of the stars. Your fate—and the fate of Eryndor—depends on it."

Lyla's eyes flew open, and she gasped, stumbling back from the pedestal. Alaric caught her, his arms steadying her as she tried to regain her balance.

"What did you see?" he asked, his voice urgent.

Lyla shook her head, her mind reeling. "A woman… she called herself Seraphine. She said I have to choose… that I'm tied to the darkness."

Alaric's expression darkened, his jaw clenching. "Seraphine is a guide, but her words are not always clear. Whatever choice she spoke of, it will not be easy."

"What if I make the wrong choice?" Lyla asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Alaric hesitated, his eyes meeting hers. "Then I'll be there to protect you. No matter what."

His words brought a surge of warmth to her chest, and she nodded, finding strength in his unwavering gaze. "Then we face this together."

As they left the Hall of Reflections, Lyla felt the weight of her destiny pressing down on her. She didn't know what lay ahead, but she knew one thing for certain: her journey in Eryndor had only just begun.