Dragonspine was terrifyingly still in the dead of night. Only the wind remained, sweeping up grains of snow with a soft, whispering rustle.
The stove in the camp gradually weakened, its flickering flames fading from orange-red to a deep crimson, casting shadows on the walls that stretched and shrank erratically.
Lydia curled up in her wool blanket, her eyelashes still damp with unshed tears.
Though she should have fallen into a deep sleep from exhaustion, her brow furrowed tighter and tighter.
Her snow-white lashes trembled violently, her breathing shifting from steady rises and falls to rapid, shallow gasps. Even her fingertips, clutching the blanket, turned pale.
A chilling nightmare dragged her into endless darkness...
The dream was a boundless snowfield. Icy wind, laced with frozen pellets, scraped against her face, stinging like a dull knife.
Darkness enveloped everything, save for the faint cyan glow emanating from the two extinguished Visions at Lydia's waist.
That meager light was barely enough to illuminate half a step ahead, yet it seemed to possess a magical pull, compelling her feet to move forward relentlessly.
Piercing screams mingled with monstrous roars echoed from all directions. Lydia's hand, clutching her Visions, was slick with cold sweat.
Her feet felt nailed to the snow, forcing her to move forward stiffly, one halting step at a time.
"Why... am I here?" she whispered softly.
The moment the words left her lips, the frigid wind tore them to shreds, making them inaudible even to herself.
Suddenly, a black shadow flashed before her eyes, moving so fast it left only a blurry, ink-black silhouette.
Lydia froze instantly, clamping her hands tightly over her mouth, not daring to breathe loudly.
The shadow circled her relentlessly, darting past her left side one moment, then weaving to her right the next, leaving faint trails of black mist in its wake.
Where the mist touched the ground, the snow instantly melted into dark, watery stains.
She couldn't track "it," forced to watch helplessly as the blurry shadow danced circles in the snow, toying with her already frayed nerves.
Just as fear threatened to crush her, a warm light appeared in the distance. Two figures were walking slowly forward. The man wore a worn adventurer's jacket with a leather quiver slung over his shoulder. The woman had a dried Cecilia flower tucked in her hair and held a bundle wrapped in an off-white swaddling cloth.
"Dad? Mom?" Lydia's voice cracked.
Tears welled up without warning, splattering onto the snow and instantly freezing into tiny ice crystals.
She forgot the threat of the black shadow, forgot the bone-chilling wind, and sprinted madly toward the two figures.
She reached out, trying to grasp the man's sleeve, trying to touch the flower in the woman's hair.
But no matter how fast she ran, the two figures always remained just half a step away.
Visible but untouchable, their voices were muffled as if heard through water.
A sharp pain shot through her foot. Lydia hadn't noticed the frozen rock jutting from the snow and fell heavily. Her palm scraped against the ice shards, opening a small cut. Beads of blood seeped out, staining the snow a dark crimson.
Ignoring the pain, she pushed herself up from the snow, only to see the adventurers entering a nearby cave.
The swaddled bundle in the woman's arms swayed gently, revealing a tiny tuft of snow-white hair—the exact same color as Lydia's now.
A warm, yellow glow emanated from the cave—the color of a campfire.
The family of three huddled by the fire. The woman leaned down, gently touching the baby's cheek with her fingertip, eliciting soft giggles from the swaddled bundle.
The man sat beside them, adding wood to the fire. He occasionally looked up at the woman, his gaze filled with tenderness.
The scene was so heartwarming it made Lydia's eyes sting.
She stood at the cave entrance, tears streaming down her face.
But no matter how she squinted, she couldn't make out the adventurers' faces—only blurred silhouettes. Even the curve of their smiles seemed unreal.
"No... Don't stay in there!"
A sudden, intense unease gripped Lydia, her heart squeezed by an icy hand.
Just as she was about to rush into the cave, the black shadow shot out like a venomous snake, swiftly coiling around the entrance.
The black mist devoured the warm light bit by bit, plunging the cave into darkness.
The next moment, a piercing scream erupted again—more desperate than any before. It stabbed at her eardrums, leaving her numb.
The restraint suddenly vanished. Lydia charged in frantically, only to see the black shadow devouring the adventurers' figures.
In the black mist, their bodies gradually turned transparent, like melting snow, until only two blurry orbs of light remained, vanishing in an instant.
The baby was thrown to the ground, its heart-wrenching cries echoing a fragment deep in Lydia's memory, causing a sharp pang in her heart.
Lydia lunged forward, cradling the baby and clutching the swaddling clothes tightly. When she looked up, she saw the black shadow had transformed into the likeness of the adventurers—their figures, clothes, even the man's quiver and the Cecilia flower in the woman's hair—all were identical.
But their faces remained blurred, like two soulless puppets. Their limbs twisted stiffly as they slowly lurched toward her.
"No! Stay away! Don't come any closer!" Lydia screamed, her voice hoarse.
The next moment, the baby in her arms suddenly vanished.
She stood alone in the cold cave, surrounded by the two imposters.
Despair washed over her like a tide, and even her fingertips trembled uncontrollably...
"Ngh... Don't... Don't come any closer..."
Lydia's soft whimper broke the silence of the camp. A hot tear slid from the corner of her eye, rolling down her cheek and onto the pillow. Her body trembled uncontrollably, her forehead slick with cold sweat. Even the stray strands of hair at her temples were soaked, clinging to her pale face.
At the crack of dawn, Albedo was already standing at his table, a charcoal pencil pinched between his fingertips. The paper before him was covered in dense, tiny script.
It listed the materials needed to repair the Holy Lyre der Himmel, the breakfast he'd prepared for Klee and Lydia, and even marked the dangerous areas along the gathering route.
He set down the Holy Lyre, which he had been examining for some time, and rubbed his temples, a faint weariness in his eyes.
The report on the sudden surge in Durin cell activity, the strange monster remains in the snow, and that faint, elusive scent of black mist...
These worries weighed on him like stones, making sleep impossible.
He had been lying on the temporary cot just outside the inner room, tossing and turning for half the night before finally getting up to find something to do.
At least with his hand moving, the unease in his heart eased slightly.
By the time dawn broke, the paper was finally filled with a complete list.
Albedo finally breathed a sigh of relief. Just as he was about to stretch, he heard a faint sound from the inner room.
He rose at once, his steps light, careful not to disturb the sleeping guests.
The morning light in the inner room was still faint, just enough to make out the silhouettes of Lydia and Klee.
Klee slept soundly, a faint, adorable smile on her face.
Lydia, however, was the complete opposite. Her brow was tightly furrowed, her lips pale, and even her breaths were shaky.
Albedo paused, then knelt beside the bed. He gently brushed his thumb across the corner of Lydia's eye, wiping away the tear.
Perhaps sensing the kindness, Lydia's brow relaxed slightly.
Albedo gazed at her pale face, a flicker of almost imperceptible heartache stirring within him.
This girl usually acted so carefree—always finding new ways to get into trouble when left alone, even cheerfully plotting with Klee where to go fish blasting after being sent to the confinement room.
But now... her fragile appearance was like a piece of easily shattered glass.
"Perhaps," Albedo murmured, his voice so low only he could hear, "this is what humans call a 'flaw'."
He rose, intending to make some hot soup to warm Lydia when she woke.
Before he could even take a full step, his wrist was seized by a cold hand—its fingertips were clammy with sweat, yet its grip was surprisingly strong.
Lydia's eyes flew open, her pupils still wide with the terror of a nightmare. She lunged forward instinctively.
Thud!
Their foreheads collided heavily.
"Hiss... that hurts!" Lydia gasped, sucking in a sharp breath. Tears instantly welled up again.
This time, it wasn't from fear, but from the solid, dull pain.
She clutched her forehead, her eyes red-rimmed. When she looked up, she met Albedo's equally pained frown.
A red mark had appeared on his forehead too. His usually calm, unreadable eyes were filled with helplessness, and his lips were pressed into a thin line, as if he were fighting the urge to make a sarcastic remark.
"You..." Lydia's voice was hoarse from sleep and still trembling from the nightmare. "Teacher Albedo, what are you doing here? Did I... Did I wake you?"
Albedo rubbed his forehead, his fingertips brushing the red mark. He frowned again, but his tone held a rare hint of teasing. "Aside from your snoring in the middle of the night, I'd say you didn't disturb me at all."
He had, of course, noticed Lydia's distress and knew she didn't want him to mention the nightmare. So, he deliberately used the snoring to change the subject.
In his eyes, the girl always used her cheerful, energetic demeanor as a suit of armor to hide her inner vulnerability.
Rather than expose her and cause her embarrassment, it was better to play along and feign ignorance.
He turned to look out the window, where the morning light was already painting half the sky.
"It's almost dawn. Get up, wash your face, and let's have breakfast."
Only then did Lydia realize her face was streaked with tears and her pillow was soaked. Her cheeks instantly flushed crimson.
She hastily wiped her face with her sleeve, clutching the edge of the wool blanket.
Teacher Albedo... he didn't see, did he?
Just as she was about to ask, Albedo's voice cut in preemptively: "Don't ask. I don't know. I didn't see anything. Do not disturb."
Lydia: "..."
What kind of white lie is this?
It's even more embarrassing than being called out directly!
The tips of her ears turned bright red, but she couldn't find the words to argue. She could only obediently get up and wash her face.
As she looked at her reflection in the mirror, the nightmare images flooded back: the adventurers being swallowed by shadows, the imposter lunging at her. The memories were so vivid they sent a shiver down her spine.
Albedo noticed the lingering fear in her eyes but chose not to press her.
Everyone has secrets. Knowing too much about things you shouldn't only brings trouble.
He stood up, straightened the hem of his clothes, and his tone returned to its usual calm. "The soup is simmering on the stove. Take your time and come out when you're ready."
"Klee is still asleep. We can gather materials after you're both prepared. There's no rush."
Lydia watched his retreating back, an inexplicable sense of security washing over her.
She glanced down at her palm, where the phantom softness of holding the baby in her dream still lingered. The anxiety in her heart slowly began to fade.
At least for now...
With Teacher Albedo and Klee here, she wasn't facing those terrifying things alone.