Ryker dismissed his allies. He couldn't delay them any longer. Jonathan left to begin the impossible task of securing an untraceable, long-range transport; the healer retreated to his lab to synthesize the volatile, custom batch of Elixirs needed for a month on the run; and Emrys vanished from the other end of the line, returning to the high-pressure game of bureaucratic espionage.
Ryker was left alone in the cold, silent bunker with Lyra, the central figure in the chaos he had unleashed. With the clock ticking toward midnight tomorrow, he knew he couldn't afford to focus solely on logistics. He had to prepare Lyra for the trauma of returning to Oakhaven, or the risky journey would be futile—or worse, fatal.
He pulled a simple, wooden chair up to the cot, replacing the hard metal stool. Lyra was still sleeping soundly under the influence of the Aether-Bind Elixir, her breathing deep and even, free from the psychic storms that had racked her earlier.
He had spent hours just observing her. He was a military commander, a strategist who dealt in steel, fortifications, and casualties. He had never been charged with the delicate emotional care of a child, let alone a child whose mind was a volatile magical bomb. He felt the immense, terrifying weight of his responsibility. What if he was wrong? What if the seal reacted not to the environment, but to the heightened emotional stress of seeing her adopted home?
He needed rest too. He closed his eyes, mentally preparing for what was to come.
Around noon, Lyra's eyes fluttered open.She looked around the bare room, then settled on Ryker, who was watching her with an expression she couldn't quite decipher—it wasn't the stern glare of the soldiers, nor the cold efficiency of the physician. It was... tired kindness.
"Did I sleep long time?" she asked, her voice softer now, less brittle with fear.
"Yes," Ryker replied simply. "You needed it."
He offered her water and a tray of simple, nourishing food—bread, cheese, and sliced fruit—that Jonathan had procured for their emergency supplies.
As she ate slowly, Ryker decided to break his own rule. He needed her trust, and to earn trust, he had to give something back.
"You asked me who you are," Ryker began, his eyes fixed on the distant wall. "And I told you that for now, your name is Lyra. That's not true. But when you asked about a home, about running... I wanted to tell you about mine."
Lyra stopped chewing, setting the apple slice down, her blue eyes wide with curiosity. Questions had already started forming in her mind but she put them on pause, so that she could listen. She noticed the subtle change in his facial expression and tone. It almost felt blank. Similar to when something hurts too much and the only response the body can give is numbness. Not pain, fear nor anger... just quiet suffocating numb.
"I grew up on a small, isolated farm in the northern uplands," Ryker said, the memory surprisingly clear and painful but his face didn't show it. "Not a village, just a few fields and some rough mountains. My father was a soldier, like me. My mother was a healer, like Rowland, the one who healed you. When I was young, she was taken by a fever that none of her medicines could cure. When my father left for long campaigns, I was alone."
He shifted in the chair, the heavy wool of his uniform suddenly feeling restrictive. "I was terrified of the dark. I was terrified of being forgotten. When I came to the Citadel, I swore I would never let weakness or fear control me again. I built walls. High ones."
He finally met her gaze. "When I see you, Lyra, running, scared, and alone, I see the kind of weakness that the world exploits. The man who hurt you... he represents the easy path of cruelty. I chose a different path this week. I chose to face the fear and the unknown instead of abandoning you."
Lyra's lip trembled slightly. "You chose...save me."
"I did," Ryker confirmed, letting the weight of the admission settle. "And that means you are no longer alone. We are facing what comes next, together."
The connection, however fragile, was established. Lyra's face softened, a small, genuine smile finally reaching her eyes. "Thank you, Ryker."
There was something in the way she said that last sentence that made him smile.
"Now, we have to talk about something difficult," Ryker said, his tone shifting back to the serious. "We are going to move you tonight. We are leaving the Garrison."
Her eyes flashed in confusion.
"Garrison?" She wondered totally oblivious to the new word.
"Yeah,we are leaving this place. This is the garrison."
Lyra immediately tensed, the phantom pain of the interrogation surfacing. "Move me? Where?"
"We are going back to Oakhaven," Ryker revealed, watching her closely for any reaction from the seal.
The word Oakhaven did nothing. No flinch, no surge of power, no sign of recognition. The seal had done its job on her recent memories of being abandoned there, or perhaps the village name held no significance.
"I not remember no Oakhaven," Lyra said, confused.
"I know," Ryker said gently. "But the place remembers you. It was your home for many years. You had an adoptive mother there, and a life. We believe the memories of your adopted family and your normal life are still intact. Seeing your home may let those normal memories surface. We need those memories, Lyra. We need to know what made you run."
He couldn't risk telling her about the spell or her lycan abilities. It could end up activating the spell and wiping her memory clean up till now. It was too much of a risk, so he kept it safe.
Lyra looked down at her hands, turning them over. The prospect of facing a forgotten life—a life of apparent normality that could be a lie—terrified her more than the threats of the Citadel.
"If me go ... and remember mother," Lyra whispered, her voice heavy with the fear of loss. "Will me forget this? Will forget saving me?"
Ryker reached out and briefly, unexpectedly, rested his hand on her shoulder—a massive, reassuring weight.
"The won't happen" Ryker promised, though he was speculating wildly. "It seems only the past is affected, not the present. You will remember the people who helped you here. You will remember Rowland. You will remember Emrys. And you will remember me. Jonathan too."
He let her absorb this before continuing.He pulled his hand back, settling back into his role as Commander.
"But we have to be ready. This journey is dangerous. We will be traveling outside the protection of the Empire, and there are bad people looking for you. We need you to be strong, Lyra. Can you be strong for me?"
Lyra looked at the large man who had risked everything, the man who had shared his own childhood loneliness, the man who was now asking her to face her own forgotten past.
"Yes, " Lyra said, her voice small, but resolute. "I strong."
The Final Detail
The hours crawled by. The plan remained unchanged. Ryker, now assured of Lyra's fragile emotional readiness, turned his attention to the last crucial piece of the puzzle.
He had the names of the external enemies, he had the plan to move, and he had Lyra's cooperation. He now needed a contingency plan for when, not if, the external enemies started tracking them.
He reached for the communications panel, his fingers hovering over the coded channel to the Free Cities. It was time to pull a loose thread and find out if the third threat, The Free Cities Coven, was already on the move.