The night was far too quiet.

  The fire had gone out. Kael slept with his hand on his blade. Andrel, face partially covered by a stabilization seal, snored softly. Selene remained on watch, Rukk beside her, still as ancient stone.

  Lysa had stepped away to check the perimeter.

  It was a habit. Old. Involuntary.

  She heard it — the sound of a page turning where there was no wind.

  She drew her dagger.

  “Who’s there?”

  No response.

  She took two more steps.

  Something... pulled her.

  An invisible seal, triggered by proximity. The ground didn’t crack — it opened like a portal. And before she could react, everything turned to darkness.

  She woke up tied down.

  Straps of enchanted leather bound her arms and legs to a stone chair. The chamber was vast, cold, and gray-toned. A hall carved in frosted crystal, where light reflected without warmth.

  Five hooded figures stood around her. Black masks with golden markings hid their faces.

  A woman stepped forward. Tall, impeccably poised, her voice echoed with dry authority.

  “Lysa. Daughter of the Fracture. Loose scale of the Root. Enemy of the Thread.”

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  The prisoner stared back at her with steady eyes.

  “And you are?”

  “We call ourselves the Glass Circle. An unofficial council. Heirs of the True System. We guard the cracks before they become fractures.”

  Lysa laughed with contempt.

  “How poetic.”

  Another figure stepped forward. Male, with a slurred voice.

  “We felt the spike. The release of the creature called Rukk generated a Value 0 energy wave unlike any previously recorded. We knew something wrong was moving in the shadows.”

  The woman continued:

  “You now stand at a crossroads. The System still accepts you. A new Value can be forged. A function can be assigned. A chance to erase the error.”

  Lysa spat on the ground.

  “I’d rather die spitting blood than live on my knees with a number on my forehead.”

  The third noble drew a small ceremonial dagger.

  “That can be arranged.”

  The leader raised a hand.

  “Patience. There is still another path.”

  She slowly removed her hood.

  And Lysa’s world collapsed.

  Strong jaw. Gray eyes. Silver-streaked hair pulled back. An implacable posture.

  The voice Lysa could never forget.

  “I knew it was you,” said Grenda Malvar.

  Lysa froze.

  She tried to speak. She couldn’t.

  The chair felt tighter now. The leather, thicker. The air, thinner.

  Grenda stepped closer.

  “You should be dead. How many times? But you survived. And now here you are. All grown up. Armed. With monster friends.”

  She knelt in front of the chair.

  “Do you want to know the truth, Lysa?”

  The prisoner trembled.

  “You were always special. The System wanted you dead. But we... chose to observe.”

  “You... tortured me.”

  “I... tested you. That’s how the world works. The strong survive. The weak feed the base.”

  “You locked me in a closet for two days!”

  Grenda smiled.

  “And look at you now. Alive. With broken code and eyes of flame. I made you, Lysa. I did. You’re not the result of your strength. You’re the result of my discipline.”

  “Lies,” Lysa whispered, but the words came thin and torn.

  The woman leaned in closer.

  “Join us. Take your place. Let the past die. Or...”

  She stood, snapped her fingers.

  The wall behind her slid open. Inside: images. Projections. Andrel, Kael, Selene. Surrounded by nobles in places they couldn’t see.

  “...they die. Your choice.”

  Lysa closed her eyes, breath shaky.

  On the distant hill, Andrel woke with a chill.

  Kael rose, sword in hand.

  Selene, already standing, whispered:

  “Something... broke.”

  Rukk roared.

  And the sky grew a little darker.