# Chapter 730: The Diversion
The lift doors slid shut with a deafening clang, the sound of a tomb sealing. Kaelen slammed his palm on the activation rune, and the cage lurched, beginning its swift, groaning ascent into the heart of the storm. The chamber below fell away, a chaos of falling rock and flickering torchlight. For a moment, there was only the whine of the cable and the shuddering of the iron frame around them. Then, Lyra spoke, her voice clear and calm in the chaos. "He's not just angry," she said, her small hand still clutching Nyra's. "He's broken. The sadness is older than the stone. It's why he chose the Shard of Sorrow. It feels like home." As she spoke, the lift shuddered violently, and the screech of metal on metal echoed from above. They weren't just ascending; they were being hunted.
The ascent was a torment of vibration and noise. The iron cage, a rickety skeleton of bolted plates, rattled as if it might fly apart at any second. Nyra kept her focus on Lyra, whose small face was turned upward, her eyes half-closed as if listening to a distant song. The air grew thick and cold, carrying the scent of ozone and something else, something ancient and sorrowful, like petrified tears. The dim light from the rune on the floor cast long, dancing shadows that made the bars of the cage look like the ribs of some great, dead beast.
"He's trying to find us," Lyra whispered, her breath misting in the frigid air. "He's pulling on the threads. The guards... he's telling them where we are."
Kaelen stood braced in the center of the lift, his legs bent, his hand resting on the pommel of his sword. His gaze was fixed on the ceiling of the cage, his body a coiled spring. "Let him try," he growled, his voice a low rumble that was nearly lost in the screech of the mechanism. "This cage is a death trap. If they get us in here, we're finished."
Nyra's mind raced, cataloging their vulnerabilities. The lift was a straight shot to the apex, but it was also a shooting gallery. They were exposed, trapped, and climbing directly into the maw of their enemy. Cael's diversion was their only shield. She pictured him and his dissenters, a handful of desperate souls charging up that narrow staircase, their war cries a defiant roar against the silence of the Spire. How long could they hold? How many guards could they draw away? The plan was a gamble, a wager of Cael's life for their chance.
A sudden, violent lurch threw them all against the side of the cage. Kaelen grunted, absorbing the impact, while Nyra tightened her grip on Lyra, shielding the girl with her own body. The screeching from above intensified, a high-pitched shriek of tortured metal. Through the gaps in the floor, Nyra saw the walls of the shaft flying past, a dizzying blur of black stone and flickering torchlight. They were passing the level where the main contingent of guards had been stationed. Cael's noise had to be working. It had to.
"They're coming," Lyra said, her voice flat, devoid of fear. It was a simple statement of fact. "Three of them. On the roof. They have hooks."
Kaelen drew his sword, the rasp of steel a welcome, solid sound in the chaos. "Get back," he ordered Nyra, moving to stand directly beneath the ceiling hatch. "Both of you, in the corner."
Nyra pulled Lyra into the far corner of the cage, pressing the girl's face into her shoulder. She could feel Lyra's small body trembling, not with fear, but with a strange, resonant energy that seemed to hum in time with the groaning of the lift. The golden ember in the girl's chest, the fragment of Soren's light, was a steady warmth against Nyra's skin.
A heavy thud echoed from above, followed by the scrape of metal on metal. "They're on the roof!" Kaelen yelled.
Another thud, louder this time. The entire cage swayed violently. Nyra risked a glance up. Kaelen was staring at the ceiling hatch, his sword held ready. The metal plate began to groan, bending inward under some immense weight from above. The sound of grinding metal filled the air, a prelude to a breach.
"Hold on!" Kaelen roared.
With a screech of tearing metal, the hatch was ripped from its hinges. A dark shape fell through the opening, not a man, but a heavy, iron grappling hook attached to a thick rope. It slammed onto the floor of the lift, the impact sending another jolt through the cage. Immediately, the hook began to drag, scraping across the iron floor, pulling towards the open doorway as the guards on the roof tried to anchor them.
Kaelen didn't hesitate. He lunged forward, his sword a silver blur, and brought it down on the rope. The blade bit deep, but the thick, woven fibers held. The hook continued its inexorable pull, threatening to snag on the door mechanism and tear the cage apart.
"Again!" Nyra shouted, her voice sharp with urgency.
Kaelen wrenched his sword free and struck again, putting his full strength into the blow. This time, the rope frayed and snapped. The hook fell away, clattering into the darkness of the shaft below. But the reprieve was momentary. A face appeared in the open hatch, a guard in the black-and-grey livery of the Ashen Remnant, his eyes wild with fanatical zeal. He lunged, a rusty shortsword in his hand, aiming for Kaelen's head.
Kaelen met the charge, parrying the clumsy blow and slamming his shoulder into the guard's chest. The man grunted, his momentum carrying him half out of the hatch. Before Kaelen could finish him, another guard appeared behind the first, this one with a crossbow.
"Down!" Nyra screamed.
Kaelen dropped flat as a crossbow bolt thudded into the wall where his head had been a second before. The bolt quivered, its black fletching a stark contrast to the grey stone. The first guard, recovering, scrambled back into the hatch, trying to kick at Kaelen's prone form.
The lift shuddered again, a new, more alarming sound joining the cacophony. A high-pitched whine, like a saw biting into metal, came from the side of the cage. Nyra looked out through the bars. Two more guards were on a parallel service ladder, one of them holding a long, pole-mounted saw that was already chewing through the main cable.
"Kaelen! The cable!" she yelled, pointing.
He saw it, his face a mask of fury and frustration. He was trapped, dealing with the threat from above while a more lethal danger grew from the side. He kicked out, catching the first guard in the jaw and sending him reeling back into his companion. The crossbow clattered to the floor of the lift. Kaelen scrambled to his feet, but the guards were already recovering, their faces contorted with rage.
It was then that Lyra moved. She pulled away from Nyra, her small form straightening. The golden ember in her chest flared, its light spilling out, casting the shadows of the cage in a warm, defiant glow. The air grew still, the oppressive sorrow of the Spire momentarily receding before this tiny point of light.
"Stop," Lyra said, her voice no longer a whisper, but a clear, resonant chime that cut through the noise of the saw and the groaning of the lift.
The guards in the hatch froze, their eyes widening as they looked down at the glowing girl. The man on the ladder with the saw paused, his grip loosening on his weapon. For a heartbeat, the entire world seemed to hold its breath.
The High Priest's power, which had been a suffocating blanket over the Spire, recoiled from Lyra's light. It was like a vampire flinching from the sun. The connection was clear to Nyra now. Lyra wasn't just a vessel for the Shard of Sorrow; she was becoming a conduit for its opposite, for the light of Soren himself.
The moment of hesitation was all Kaelen needed. He lunged, not at the guards, but at the crossbow lying on the floor. He scooped it up in one fluid motion, spun, and fired. The bolt flew true, striking the guard on the ladder in the shoulder. The man screamed, losing his grip and tumbling into the darkness. The saw fell with him, its clatter echoing as it vanished into the abyss.
The remaining guard in the hatch, seeing his companion fall and feeling the unnatural pressure from Lyra, made a fatal mistake. He panicked. He turned to scramble back onto the roof, exposing his back. Kaelen dropped the crossbow and surged forward, grabbing the man by the collar of his tunic and hauling him halfway out of the hatch. With a powerful heave, he threw the guard from the roof. A short, sharp cry was cut short by the impact far below.
Silence descended, broken only by the groaning of the lift and the whine of the cable. Kaelen stood panting over the open hatch, his chest heaving, his knuckles white where he gripped the frame. He looked down at Lyra, his expression a mixture of awe and fear.
The girl swayed on her feet, the light in her chest dimming until it was just a faint glimmer beneath her tunic. The effort had cost her. Nyra rushed to her side, catching her as her knees buckled.
"I'm tired," Lyra murmured, her head lolling against Nyra's shoulder.
"You were incredible," Nyra whispered, smoothing the girl's hair back from her face. "You saved us."
The lift began to slow, the groaning of the mechanism lessening as it approached its destination. The air grew even colder, and the scent of ancient sorrow was overwhelming now, a palpable presence that clung to the back of the throat. The light from the floor rune sputtered and died, plunging them into near darkness, illuminated only by the faint glow from Lyra and the distant, ambient light from above.
"He's waiting," Lyra breathed, her voice barely audible. "He's so sad. And so angry."
The lift shuddered to a final, jarring halt. The silence that followed was absolute, a heavy, expectant quiet that was more terrifying than any noise. Kaelen moved to the doors, his sword once again in his hand. He put his ear to the cold metal, listening.
"I don't hear anything," he said, his voice low. "No guards. No chanting. Just... wind."
Nyra held Lyra close, her own heart pounding a frantic rhythm against her ribs. This was it. The end of the climb. The final confrontation. All their hopes, all their sacrifices, had led them to this single, iron door. She thought of Cael and his team, fighting and dying in the darkness below to give them this chance. She thought of Soren, his light a flickering candle in a hurricane of darkness, a beacon that Lyra had somehow found and held onto.
The diversion had worked. It had been costly, she knew, a price paid in blood and screams, but it had worked. They were here.
"Ready?" Kaelen asked, looking back at her, his eyes grim.
Nyra met his gaze, then looked down at the exhausted but resolute girl in her arms. She nodded. "We're ready."
Kaelen took a deep breath, placed his hands on the release mechanism, and pushed. With a loud, grinding shriek of metal on stone, the doors of the lift began to slide open.