CHAPTER 8 ( The Lonely Road )

Lyra's dark crystal pulsed with electricity, chilling her to the core. Unlike the shard's bright brilliance, this was dark and depressing, creeping into her flesh like frigid tendrils. She wanted to drop it, hurl it away, and forget it ever existed, but her fingers wouldn't cooperate.

It was as if the crystal was alive, according to her wishes.

Lyra staggered out of the now-empty cave, her thoughts whirling. Damien was gone. The Empire's warriors had disappeared. Nonetheless, she sensed the presence of invisible eyes, watching and waiting. The jungle spread front of her, an infinite expanse of darkness and uncertainty.

"I have to keep moving," she said softly, holding her coat firmly about her.

Lyra spent days wandering through the forest, living on whatever berries and roots she could find. Her wolf instincts brought her to water and shelter, but the anguish in her chest never lessened.

She missed Damien. Despite his cryptic warnings and harsh manner, he had been her lifeline. Now she was completely alone.

The black stone had become a continuous presence in her thoughts, its faint pulse reverberating. It murmured to her at night in a language she didn't comprehend but found appealing.

"Stop it," she whispered one evening, staring at the thing as she sat next to a tiny fire. “I don’t want your power. I just want to keep my kid safe."

The crystal became brighter, as if taunting her.

Lyra's efforts to go undetected were useless. The Empire's power reached well beyond Wulfgar's boundaries, and every town and hamlet she visited was plastered with her image.

"Wanted: Lyra Rousseau. Dangerous fugitive. "Reward: 10,000 gold pieces."

The drawing clearly depicted her, with her piercing blue eyes and flowing black hair.

She lowered her hood as she reached a little marketplace on the outside of the realm. Her hands trembled as she exchanged a wolf-pelt for bread and dry meat, the merchant looking at her suspiciously.

"You're not from around here," he said, leaning over the counter.

Lyra faked a grin. "Just passing through."

"Hmm." He gave her the stuff, his gaze drawn to the reward posters nearby.

As Lyra turned to leave, she overheard the merchant hiss at a guard. "That's her." "The fugitive."

Panic rushed through her veins. She raced, dodging through the busy market as yells rang out behind her.

"Stop her!"

Lyra's wolf instincts took control, enhancing her senses as she avoided wagons and jumped over barrels. She could feel the guards close in, their heavy boots hammering on the cobblestones.

She managed to flee the town, her lungs burning as she dashed into the woods. But she kept sprinting till her legs gave out under her.

Lyra collapsed along a riverbed, gasping for breath, tears flowing down her cheeks. She couldn't keep it up. The Empire would pursue her to the ends of the Earth.

Then there came the gem, its menacing gleam reflected in the sea.

"What do you want from me?" she said, grasping it hard.

The whispers returned, louder this time, creating a cacophony of voices that overlapped. She couldn't comprehend the words, but the meaning was clear: *Use me.*

"No," Lyra firmly said, slipping the gem into her backpack. "You won't control me."

But deep inside, she wasn't sure.

The days passed into weeks, and Lyra's voyage became more dangerous. The Empire's reach was merciless, and every time she believed she was secure, she was forced to flee again.

Her body hurt, and her strength dwindled. The baby's presence was a continuous reminder of why she couldn't give up, but her determination was fading.

She met him on a particularly chilly night, hiding under the limbs of an ancient tree.

"Interesting place for a lone wolf," a voice drawled forth.

Lyra sprang up, her pulse thumping. A guy emerged from the shadows, his features keen and angular, his silver hair reflecting the moonlight.

"Who are you?" She demanded, her fingers reflexively moving to her handbag.

The guy grinned. "Relax; I'm not with the Empire. "If I were, you'd already be dead."

"That's not reassuring."

He laughed while reclining against a tree. "My name is Kael." Let's just say I'm acquainted with your scenario.

Lyra didn't trust him, yet something about his manner was alluring. "What do you want?"

Kael's face became serious. "To aid. Are you carrying anything powerful? "Something they want."

Lyra stiffened. "How do you know that?"

"I've been following the Empire's moves for years. They wouldn't travel this far unless it was for something essential." He moved closer, his eyes penetrating. "Whatever you have, it is more harmful than you know. And if you don't learn to manage it, it will consume you.

Lyra paused, caught between suspicion and desperation. "Why would you help me?"

Kael's sneer returned. "Let's just say I have my reasons for wanting to see the Empire fall."

As they went, Kael proved to be an important ally. He taught Lyra how to move discreetly, how to hunt more effectively, and, most crucially, how to tap into the crystal's energy without succumbing to its whispers.

But something about him remained mysterious. He was constantly studying her, as if waiting for something.

Lyra approached him one night as they were camping among the remains of an ancient stronghold.

"What are you hiding, Kael?" She inquired, her tone harsh.

He did not immediately answer, instead looking into the flames. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you."

"Try me."

Kael sighed as his silver hair fell into his eyes. "The gem you hold isn't the only one. There are more, spread around the realm. Together, they create a weapon capable of transforming the planet."

Lyra's breath caught. "A weapon?"

He nodded. "The Empire wants it to solidify their rule." "But in the wrong hands..." He trailed off, his eyes darkening.

"And in the right hands?" Lyra pushed.

Kael caught her gaze. "It might mean the end of their rule. "For good."

Before Lyra could digest his words, a piercing scream resonated across the jungle.

Kael was on his feet in a moment, with his sword drawn. "Stay here."

"No way," Lyra said, snatching her bag.

They followed the sound, their feet hushed on the woodland floor. When they arrived to the source, Lyra's blood turned to ice.

A individual was sprawled on the ground, their body distorted abnormally. A hooded guy stood above them, his hand extended toward the heavens. The air surrounding him shimmered with black energy.

Kael's voice was hardly audible. "The Shadowcaster."

The hooded figure turned slowly, face covered, but his attention was fixed on Lyra.

"You can't run forever, Lyra," he murmured, his tone tinged with venom. "The crystal will always lead me to you."

In his other hand, he grasped a fragment similar to the one Lyra had dropped. Only this one blazed with a rich red fire.

The hooded man took a step closer, the red shard in his palm throbbing in rhythm with the black crystal in Lyra's backpack, and his words cut through the quiet like a blade.

"Did Damien tell you what happens when two shards reunite?"

Lyra's heart pounded, and she reflexively grasped her bag closer. Kael's jaw clenched, and his knuckles became white around the hilt of his sword.

The guy laughed darkly, his eyes penetrating. "You've already put things in action, Lyra. Do you even realize what you've unleashed?

Before she could react, the crimson shard emitted blinding light, and the woodland was engulfed in a thunderous scream.

Lyra gasped in terror as the light vanished. The earth under her feet had fractured, and something old and hideous emerged from the depths.