The sun had barely broken over the horizon when Lilith found Thorne outside the castle. The morning air was cold, carrying the scent of burnt wood and upturned earth. Volcrist was alive—but not as it had once been. Men and women worked tirelessly, raising new walls, rebuilding towers, reinforcing what the war had nearly destroyed. Dust from the reconstruction lingered in the air like a constant reminder of the recent battle.

  Thorne stood atop one of the makeshift scaffolds, watching the steady flow of workers. His gaze swept over the fortress with the precision of a seasoned wolf. When he saw Lilith approaching, he descended swiftly, wiping his hands on his worn garments.

  — Good morning. — His voice was hoarse, marked by exhaustion.

  Lilith crossed her arms, studying him.

  — How did you know I wanted something?

  A small smile tugged at the corner of Thorne’s mouth.

  — I read faces as well as I read battles. You’ve got the look of someone hunting something.

  She accepted the answer with a short nod. There was no need for pretense.

  — I want access to Volcrist’s secret library.

  The smile vanished. The old wolf went silent for a moment, crossing his arms as if weighing each word.

  — That I cannot grant. — His voice carried a rare weight. — The key belongs to the family. When Aemon wakes, he will decide what to do with it. Not even I have entered that library.

  Lilith held his gaze, feeling her frustration rising. Time was working against them. She could feel it in the air itself, in Aemon’s motionless body, in the growing chaos of Volcrist.

  She took a step forward, her voice low and firm.

  — If you don’t let me in, he’ll die.

  Thorne’s eyes gleamed in the morning light, but he remained impassive.

  — Aemon is strong. He’s already survived what should’ve killed him.

  Lilith shook her head.

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  — This isn’t about strength. Something is happening to him—something beyond our understanding. If there’s any book on dragons in that library and I don’t have access to it, he’ll die just the same.

  Thorne said nothing.

  Lilith played her final card.

  — I’m the only one here who can interpret those ancient tomes—the only one who can understand what’s happening to him. Do you really want to carry the weight of denying him his only chance to survive?

  The tension between them solidified like an invisible wall. The cold wind passed between them, carrying dust and ash. Finally, Thorne let out a long, weary sigh.

  — If I do this… and you’re wrong… it won’t change anything.

  Lilith met his gaze, and for the first time, there was no arrogance or provocation in her eyes. Only certainty.

  — Then I better be right.

  The night in Volcrist remained heavy and oppressive, like a weight upon the shoulders of all who inhabited the castle. The stars were covered by thick clouds, and the wind—once a chilling relief—now seemed sharper, as if it meant to tear the earth apart. Yet for Lilith, the cold invading her chambers didn’t come from outside. It came from within.

  Sitting at a dark wooden table, her hands resting on a pile of ancient tomes, Lilith couldn’t push aside the thoughts tormenting her. Thorne’s refusal to grant her access to the secret library echoed in her mind like a challenge thrown against her deepest need: answers. With every page turned, she felt further from what she sought, further from understanding what had happened to Aemon.

  He was still unconscious, and she knew time was slipping through their fingers. Each day without answers was another step toward the end—not just for him, but for everyone. If he died, Volcrist would fall apart. And perhaps, the world with it.

  The firelight cast shadows that danced along the walls, as if mocking her helplessness. Her gaze fixed on the flames, trying to find something there—a solution, a clue, anything that might help. But there was nothing beyond the fire, just fragments of a distant past she couldn’t control.

  The fragment of Aemon’s armor still lay on the table. She picked it up again, her finger brushing the scar left by the fatal blow. There was no more time to wait. No more time to question what was happening to him. She had to act.

  She rose abruptly, the chair scraping against the stone floor. She couldn’t wait any longer. The castle, Volcrist, the fate of the realm itself was at stake. If she had to, she would break into the secret library herself. She knew she couldn’t count on Thorne or Cedric, both of whom were sinking deeper into their own worries.

  With quick steps, she moved toward the door. The night was still young, but the shadows of morning would soon take its place. And with them, she would have to make choices.

  Before leaving, she paused for a moment at the window, staring at the dark sky. The wind seemed to whisper between Volcrist’s ancient stones. There was something there—something she didn’t fully understand yet—but she knew she would have to use it.

  — I’ll do whatever it takes. — She whispered to herself, her eyes locked on the stars that seemed to be dying one by one.

  With her decision made, she left her chambers, walking through the dark corridors of the castle. The doors creaked open as if the castle itself had sensed the weight of her resolve.

  The night in Volcrist remained suffocating—but now, Lilith knew what had to be done. The fate of all rested in her hands.