Lyra woke with the uneasy feeling that the world was tilted.
Not spinning—misaligned. As though she had been placed back into her body a fraction of a second too late.
She sat up slowly, her head throbbing.
The tent was dim, lit faintly by the glow of the magic lamp. Outside, the fire crackled softly. The forest hummed—low, constant, and far too loud for comfort.
Her hands trembled.
Mana sickness, she thought. Or something close to it.
Lyra pressed her palms together and tried to steady her breathing. The moment she focused, the air rippled.
She flinched and pulled her hands apart.
"Don't force it."
Vane's voice came from outside the tent.
Lyra pushed the flap open. Vane sat cross-legged by the fire, his posture relaxed but his eyes sharp, like he hadn't slept at all.
"You're awake," he said.
"Barely," she replied, rubbing her temples. "How long was I out?"
"Long enough."
She hesitated. "Kiren?"
"He went to turn in our crystals."
Lyra nodded, then fell quiet. The fire popped, sending sparks upward.
"If I can't hunt," she said finally, "I'll drag the group down."
Vane didn't answer immediately.
"They'll demote me to E-rank," Lyra continued. "I know how this works. I'm not strong enough. Not like you. Not like Kiren."
"You're wrong," Vane said flatly.
She laughed softly. "That's kind of you."
"It's a fact," he replied. "You just don't know how to use what you have yet."
Lyra opened her mouth to respond—
—and froze.
A sound came from the treeline.
Not a roar.
Not a growl.
Footsteps.
Slow. Careful.
Vane stood instantly. "Stay here."
Before she could protest, a shape emerged from the shadows.
The creature was small—barely the size of a wolf—but its body shimmered unnaturally, as though space itself bent around it. Its eyes glowed pale blue.
A Phase Lynx.
Low-tier, but fast.
"Vane," Lyra whispered. "It's close."
"I know," he said. "Don't move."
The lynx crouched, muscles coiling.
Then it lunged—
—not at Vane.
At her.
Lyra yelped as the world folded.
She reappeared several feet to the side, heart hammering. The lynx slammed into empty air, skidding across the dirt.
"I teleported," she gasped. "I—I didn't mean to—"
"Again," Vane said sharply. "Now!"
The lynx recovered, snarling as it charged.
Lyra raised her hands instinctively.
Space warped.
The lynx's body twisted mid-leap, momentum folding inward as though it had struck an invisible wall. It crashed to the ground, stunned.
Lyra didn't think.
She moved.
Another pulse of spatial magic snapped outward, compressing the air around the beast. The lynx shrieked once before a pop sound went of and the beast disappeared.
Silence.
Lyra stood frozen, chest heaving.
"I... I did it," she whispered.
Vane stared at the beast core left on the floor.
"Take the core," he said.
Her hands shook as she knelt and retrieved the small, glowing crystal from the ground. It pulsed softly in her palm.
Her first.
She laughed weakly. Then the world tilted again.
"Easy," Vane said, catching her before she fell. "That was too much. It seems that the river made your magic self aware, it amplified it."
"But I can fight," she insisted. "I can contribute."
"I know," he said quietly.
She looked up at him. "You were talking earlier. Before I woke up."
Vane stiffened. "You heard that?"
"Some of it," Lyra admitted. "You were... arguing with someone."
Silence stretched.
"An old habit," Vane said at last.
Lyra studied his face, she remembered their conversation before she went to sleep. "You're afraid."
He didn't deny it.
"The seer was not wrong," he said softly.
Lyra tightened her grip on the core. "Then we'll figure it out."
Vane met her gaze. For a moment, something in his eyes eased.
"We will," he said.
A twig snapped in the distance.
Both of them turned.
From deeper in the forest, something howled—long, distorted.
Vane's expression hardened.
"That wasn't a beast," he said.
Lyra swallowed.
"Then what was it?"
Vane's eyes glowed faintly as he rose to his feet.
"Something that hunting students. When Kiren came back earlier, we heard it. We went to investigate but we only found a body."
The fire crackled higher.
And far away, the Red Tree pulsed once—
as though it had felt the kill.
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