Lyra lingered near the edge of the hall. She watched Misery and Eryon, their heads bent together as they spoke in hushed tones. The tension in the room, palpable moments ago, had begun to shift. It wasn’t gone completely—the air still felt thick with unspoken doubts—but there was something new weaving its way into the conversation: a faint glimmer of hope.
Misery leaned over the map spread across the heavy oak table, her silver eyes scanning its surface with fierce concentration. Her fingers moved across the lines of rivers and mountain ranges, tracing paths she hoped would lead to answers.
“If Adrian took her somewhere safe,” she said, her voice low but steady, “he wouldn’t have done it without leaving clues. He wasn’t reckless. He would have wanted us to find her, eventually.”
Eryon stood on the opposite side of the table, his amber eyes fixed on Misery’s movements. His expression was pensive, his lips pressed into a tight line. Finally, he nodded.
“You’re right,” he said quietly. “Adrian wouldn’t have gone to such lengths for nothing. He must have left something behind—some sign or trace.”
Lyra hesitated before stepping closer, her presence hesitant but firm. “Then we need to figure out what he meant,” she said, her voice soft but resolute. “If there’s any trace of her left, no matter how faint, we need to follow it.”
Misery turned her gaze to Lyra, a faint smile tugging at her lips despite the weight of their discussion. “You’re right,” she agreed, her voice tinged with gratitude. “Adrian wasn’t careless. He would’ve planned for this.”
Eryon’s jaw tightened as he looked between the two women. His amber eyes flicked back to the map, a crease forming between his brows. “If there are clues, they won’t be obvious,” he said, his tone carrying the weight of his years of searching. “He wouldn’t have risked anyone discovering them, especially not the King.”
Misery nodded, her fingers pausing over a distant mountain range on the map. “He mentioned something before he left,” she said slowly, her silver eyes narrowing in thought. “A haven. A place far from the King’s reach. But he didn’t say where it was.”
Lyra’s gaze followed Misery’s hand on the map, her thoughts racing. “If it’s a haven,” she murmured, “it would have to be somewhere isolated. A place where the King’s forces wouldn’t think to look—or couldn’t reach even if they knew about it.”
Eryon leaned closer to the map, his fingers tapping thoughtfully against the table. His voice was steady, but there was an edge of frustration beneath it. “Somewhere the Shadowbound couldn’t follow,” he said. “But that doesn’t narrow it down much. The world is too vast to search blindly.”
Lyra lifted her head, her silver eyes bright with determination. “Then we start with what we know,” she said. “We retrace Adrian’s steps. Every clue, every word he left behind—it all has to mean something.”
Misery straightened, the faint smile returning to her lips. “You’re right,” she said, her voice firmer now. “He wouldn’t have left us without a way to find her. We just have to put the pieces together.”
The three of them stood around the table, the map between them seeming to pulse with untold secrets. For the first time in years, they felt like they were on the brink of something greater—something that could finally bring closure to the pain and loss they had carried for so long.