ELARA
The library had become my second home, a place where silence didn't mean loneliness, and knowledge felt like resistance. With each brittle page and forgotten scroll, I searched for more than an-swers. I searched for a way to lift the curse that haunted Draven, haunted all of us.
But even the steady rhythm of research couldn't stop my thoughts from drifting to Lyria. Visiting her had become part of my routine at dawn and again before nightfall. Not out of duty, but something deeper. A quiet promise.
Tonight was colder than usual. I sat cross-legged on the furs by the hearth in her chamber, wrapped in a thick shawl. Lyria's massive wolf form was curled near the flames, her breathing slow and steady.
The fire popped, casting soft shadows along the walls.
"The training grounds were busier today," I said aloud, not expecting a response. "A new sparring instructor has the warriors pushing harder. Draven acts like he had nothing to do with it, but I know better."
