The gates of the Sanctuary groaned open behind them, closing with a finality that echoed through Nyx's chest. The air outside was sharper—cleaner—but carried an undertone of ancient magic and unrest. She inhaled slowly. For the first time in weeks, the sky stretched above her without a ceiling, without walls. Just stars. Endless, indifferent stars.
They had left the safety of silence. Now came the path of danger.
"Which way now?" Nyx asked, adjusting the silver strap of her travel blade. Her hair, no longer bound in the tight braid, flowed loose and soft in the wind.
Elysera pointed toward the volcanic ridges that shimmered in the distance. "East. Through the Lavarend Cliffs. Then we descend into the Whispering Mistwood."
Lira groaned. "Sounds... cozy."
"You'd be surprised," Elysera murmured. "Both places will test your heart. And your will."
They entered the Lavarend Cliffs by midday. The air grew molten and heavy, stained with the scent of iron and ash. Lava veins carved glowing trails down sheer obsidian slopes. Magma occasionally bubbled beneath thin crusts, hissing like a serpent.
Nyx paused at the edge of a ridge, staring out. "It's like walking through a wound in the earth."
"The land remembers the Wars," Elysera said. "And bleeds still."
Draconic wolves circled them before dusk—beasts with smoke-like fur and fire eyes. Nyx's sword danced instinctively, slicing through heated air. One wolf lunged. Lira cast a barrier, but it cracked instantly.
"Lira! Behind you!" Nyx shouted.
The beast's claws scraped through the air, but a surge of violet light stopped it mid-leap. Elysera stepped forward, whispering:
"Kha'reth en vel thunor." ("Return to the flame from whence you came.")
A glyph blazed beneath her feet. The wolf erupted in spectral fire and vanished into smoke.
"What was that?" Nyx asked, panting.
"Dungeon spell. From before the Wars." Elysera turned. "We'll speak more tonight. You'll need to understand it, truly."
The Whispering Mistwood was beautiful and cruel. Trees with pearl bark and azure leaves stretched impossibly high. The mist sang. Whispered. It mimicked voices.
Nyx froze as a voice echoed through the haze. "Nyx... come home. Come back to me."
It sounded like her mother.
She took a step.
"Don't answer it!" Elysera snapped. "The mist feeds on memory. Speak and it digs deeper."
Lira grasped her hand. "Stay with us. Remember what's real."
Nyx nodded, shaking. The voice faded, replaced by an eerie hush.
"This place preys on what we long for," Elysera murmured. "It knows loneliness."
That night, they bathed in an enchanted spring hidden behind a glowing ivy veil. The waters shimmered with stardust. Nyx's hair fell around her shoulders, free and silver in the moonlight.
"You look different," Lira said, floating beside her.
"I feel different," Nyx admitted. "Like... I'm not pretending anymore."
"That's power," Elysera said quietly. "Not the kind you wield—but the kind you carry."
Lira chuckled, teasing, "Maybe next time we'll all skip the braid."
Nyx smiled. "Maybe next time we won't be nearly eaten by fire wolves."
Later, at a blackstone altar half-buried in mist and moss, Elysera lit three blue flames.
"The time has come," she said. "Dungeon magic cannot be taught in words alone. Only through blood. Through soul."
She drew a ritual dagger and sliced her palm, letting crimson drip onto the stone. Runes awakened—twitching like fireflies.
She whispered in Iveryn:
> "Valen'thar síren dorai en'Vorthal."
("By soul and blood, I bind my truth to silence.")
Nyx repeated it, voice steady. "Valen'thar síren dorai en'Vorthal."
Lira followed, whispering, eyes wide. "Valen'thar síren dorai en'Vorthal."
Their blood met. The runes flared violet, then disappeared.
"You are now bound to the secret," Elysera said. "Break the vow, and the Flame will judge you."
Nyx felt a pulse inside her—like fire settling into bone.
Magic Lessons in Iveryn
They sat in a circle under ancient trees, where the mist thinned. Elysera drew sigils in the air with glowing fingertips, and her voice shifted into something deeper.
> "Theran vel arun." — Light the path.
"Kael'thir novain." — Bind the spirit within.
"Zai'thren os Velkarim." — Fear not the fire, for it is you.
Lira frowned. "It's like poetry... and thunder."
Elysera smiled. "Dungeon magic listens to the soul, not just the tongue. If your heart lies, the spell dies."
"What does this mean?" Nyx pointed to a sigil that curled like flame.
> "Myth'la dorien vas." — To create is to remember the first light."
Nyx whispered the phrase. The air rippled.
"You're attuned," Elysera said. "That blade chose right."
Lira tried again, lips trembling. Her sigil fizzled.
"Don't force it," Nyx encouraged. "Speak like you mean it."
Lira nodded. "Theran vel arun."
A soft glow emerged.
"Yes!" she grinned. "I did it!"
As dawn painted the cliffs in amber light, Elysera suddenly turned eastward.
A cloaked figure stood on a far ridge, watching.
"Who is he?" Nyx asked.
Elysera's face darkened. "A ghost from my past. And a warning of what's coming."
Meanwhile, in Vel'Karim...
Highlords argued. Councils divided.
"She's fled to the Outlands," spat Dravaryn Solanar. "The girl seeks to awaken the Flame."
"And if she does?" asked a veiled magister.
"Then war returns to the Realms," Dravaryn replied coldly.
Another lord muttered, "She was our weapon. Now she's our enemy."
[End of Chapter 8]