The road to Irbeto's castle was silent. The sky behind us still glowed red, but ahead, everything was dark. Just as it had been since my arrival.
We reached the castle gates at a pale dawn; the light inside the castle wasn't enough to drive away the darkness in its corridors.
Inside, no one stopped us. The soldiers recognized Alvira at first glance and bowed quietly, as if whispering survival.
She led me through dim stone hallways to a side wing, opened a door quietly, and we entered a small laboratory, warm despite the chill in the walls.
The room was filled with surgical tools, strange potions, gases stored in amber vials, and a massive map covering the opposite wall, crisscrossed with lines like a spider's web.
Alvira placed the glass vial on the table, then pulled out a chair and knelt in front of one of the eyes.
"The vitreous layer…" she muttered.
She pulled out a fine scalpel and began slicing the outer layer of the eye, revealing a shiny, sticky material the color of molten garnet. It pulsed faintly, as if breathing.
The experiments began.
She mixed it with strange extracts, with purified Sevan ash, then fed the mixture into a cold furnace powered by magnetic energy from the core of a "Lokrin" stone.
But it failed.
Each time, the substance either evaporated or turned into something useless.
I asked, "Are you sure about your method?"
She looked at me, her eyes weary, her shoulders sagging from the weight of effort.
"I'm not sure of anything," she replied. "I'm just… trying."
Hours passed, and then came the final attempt.
But this time… something was different.
Instead of relying solely on the vitreous layer, she added something else. A single drop of her own blood.
I stopped, watching her.
"What's that?"
"Just… scientific curiosity," she said with feigned calm, though her hand trembled.
When the blood mixed with the eye material, its color changed—from garnet red to a dark violet, glowing from within with fine golden threads.
Steam rose, and the substance began to emit a soft hum.
She placed it in a crystal tube, sealed it carefully, then looked at me.
"This… is different."
I said quietly, "How did you know to add blood?"
She hesitated.
Then replied, "I didn't. I just read in old manuscripts that royal blood can play a role in healing. We need to hurry. Lyrn is waiting."
"Who?"
"My brother."
We left the lab and entered a rear wing of the castle. It was guarded, and inside was a stone room, unnaturally quiet.
On the bed lay a pale young man, his skin gray, his eyes closed, his body surrounded by glass tubes, with four silent doctors beside him.
Alvira stepped forward slowly.
She drew out the vial.
One drop, placed on his tongue.
Nothing happened at first.
Then…
Slowly, his veins began to glow. As if blood was flowing again—but not ordinary blood. A spectrum of light. His skin regained natural color, his facial muscles relaxed.
Then suddenly, he gasped, as if surfacing from deep water in one breath.
He opened his eyes.
They were golden, reflecting light like mirrors.
He raised his hand slowly, its rays absorbing light from the window and releasing it in gentle pulses.
"He's back…" one of the doctors whispered.
Alvira looked at him, her eyes gleaming—not with tears, but with a rare kind of relief.
"Welcome back, Lyrn."
He murmured in a tired voice, "Alvira… what happened?"
She chuckled softly. "Some trouble."
I stood behind her, looking at the siblings, realizing that what began as a game of traps and schemes… ended with the birth of new hope.
But I couldn't shake one thought.
If Alvira's blood was what activated the elixir…
What did that truly mean about her origin?
And her brother's?
After the elixir worked on Lyrn, there was no time to rest.
One of the guards approached the door, knocked softly, then entered with a swift bow.
"Lady Alvira… Master Irbeto is failing. The doctors… say they can do no more."
Alvira's face froze.
She said nothing—just grabbed the second vial, still holding its violet vapor at the bottom, and headed out.
I followed without a word.
Irbeto's chamber was at the top of the castle tower, behind a series of fortified doors. No one had been allowed in since he contracted the Reversed Sun disease—the illness that causes the body to reject light itself, burning from it instead of feeding on it.
When we entered, the light was dim, the air heavy with the scent of cold ash.
Irbeto… was not the great leader I had heard of in the stories. He was just a frail man, his face cracked like dry earth, eyes half-open, flickering with the sparks of death.
Alvira approached. She knelt beside him. Reached out her hand, whispered his name.
He stirred with effort.
"Alvira… you're… alive?"
"Alive… and I brought you a cure."
I looked at the man. Not with scorn, but with a quiet respect for a shadow-sized legend.
Alvira took out a single drop of the elixir, then paused.
"This is not the same case…" she muttered.
"His body doesn't just lack the ability to absorb light—it rejects any energy. The elixir might kill him if we don't prepare him."
I asked calmly, "What do we need?"
She answered as if reading something in the air: "We need a bridge."
Suddenly… she turned to me, grabbed a small dagger, and pricked my finger without warning.
"Your blood carries traces of Kekkino Mati ash. A slow catalyst. I'll mix it with a drop of the elixir… maybe his body will accept it gradually."
I didn't argue.
She mixed the two, then placed the blended drop on his forehead instead of his tongue.
We watched.
Seconds passed, then his body shuddered.
Then…
The cracks on his skin began to close, slowly, as if sealing themselves. He took a deep breath—for the first time, without pain.
Then gasped.
He opened his eyes fully. They weren't golden like Lyrn's—but molten iron… an ancient force awakened from its slumber.
"Alvira?" he said, his voice filled with terror and longing, as if memory had returned after a long exile.
"I'm here, Father."
He extended his trembling hand, touched hers.
Then… the violet glow on his forehead faded.
And in its place, a ring of soft light appeared, expanding slowly, as if declaring something greater.
Irbeto was back.
But in his eyes… there was something else.
As if the disease that left… took something with it, and left something new behind.
Irbeto remained silent, his eyes scanning the room cautiously, as if trying to understand all that had happened. He approached the wall behind him, touched a specific spot among the carvings. Suddenly, we heard a faint metallic sound, and the wall began to open slowly, revealing an old chest, worn by time.
I stood still. I knew exactly what was inside.
It was those gloves—the fifth piece.
Irbeto turned to me and said in a quiet voice:
"I always knew you'd come back for them."
I didn't reply. I stepped toward the chest and opened it slowly, revealing what I had been searching for: the gloves.
They were no ordinary gloves; forged from heavy black metal, etched with ancient symbols, and the trace of energy still clung to them, even after all this time. They were part of me—part of the power I had once lost.
I reached out toward the chest, knowing my mission here was finally over.