9 – Respite Amidst the Gloom (2)

Suddenly, as the group neared the end of the long, winding path, a figure materialized before them, an enigmatic presence that halted their progress. Standing in the middle of the road was a young girl, her age barely reaching seven, clad in a tattered white robe that swayed in the breeze. Her eyes, a mesmerizing shade of golden hazel, held a mischievous glint, while her long, snow-white hair cascaded down her petite frame, lending her an ethereal aura akin to that of a magical elf. Undeterred by the approaching horses, she stood resolute, her slender arms raised defiantly as if to bar their way.

Zynphina exchanged a quick glance with Imbra, who took the lead and raised his right hand, signaling the others to hold their positions. With measured steps, he advanced toward the mysterious girl, who closed the distance with an endearing smile playing on her lips.

"It is you!" the little girl exclaimed, adorably raising her arms in the air.

"Who might you be?" Imbra asked.

"The name is Lyra. I was awaiting your arrival, sir…"

"Imbra is the name."

"...Imbra!"

Lyra held a peculiar fascination for Imbra, unlike any other person he had encountered. Her presence possessed an otherworldly charm, capable of penetrating the barriers he had erected around himself. Taken aback by her sudden appearance, curiosity compelled him to inquire further.

"What are you doing here, all by yourself?"

"I… I was awaiting someone to bring me back home…"

"You got lost? Where are your parents?"

"My parents are in Blightmoor... but..." Lyra hesitated, turning her body slightly as she pointed toward the direction where the group had expected to find Blightmoor. However, to their surprise, the once-familiar city had vanished, leaving behind an expanse of empty air devoid of any trace of civilization. "The Blightmoor you once knew is no more. It has become a concealed realm under the protection of Lord Julius," she explained, her lips curved into a cryptic smile.

"Julius? I have never heard of that name, has the previous lord fallen?"

"Eh..." Lyra faltered. "Lord Julius watches over us, and I know the way back to Blightmoor, but... my legs are hurting..."

Imbra's gaze swept over Lyra, his eyes scanning the distant landscape. It became evident that she spoke the truth—the city they had sought was now naught but a figment of their manipulated perception, erased by the force of magic.

"Zynphina, what do you think?"

"Perhaps the young girl is correct, my Lord. It seems we have fallen victim to a powerful enchantment. Considering the recent encounters with the Hostile Incarnations, it would be logical for the new lord to conceal the entire city," Zynphina proposed.

"Hmm," Imbra contemplated, his gaze shifting back to Lyra, who was engrossed in gently stroking his horse.

"Are you certain you are able to guide us, Lyra?"

"Ah- yes! I will!"

Imbra let out a soft sigh, his gaze shifting to the others who listened intently to the conversation. Lunar wore the most radiant smile, his head tilted to the side in curiosity. Zynphina couldn't suppress a subtle chuckle as she closed her eyes. However, Declan and Gravesyn seemed less inclined to deal with the presence of a little girl. To make matters worse, Lyra's eyes were now fixed on Imbra, shimmering with hope, yearning to accompany them.

Imbra turned back to face Lyra and relented, saying, "Very well," as he leaned forward, stretching out his arms to welcome her into his embrace. Instantly, her demeanor shifted back to tranquility, and she beamed brightly as Imbra effortlessly lifted her into the air, settling her in front of him. Imbra's expression conveyed a mix of annoyance and weariness. Now burdened with the responsibility of caring for a young girl, he couldn't simply abandon her.

"Wooah! I feel so taaall!"

Imbra sighed his frustration. "Listen, you will not be traversing with us if you will talk on a loud volume such as, understood?"

"Yes, yes! Understood!" she smiled, looking back at Imbra.

"Where are we supposed to go?"

"Just… follow the original path…"

"….."

Silence settled over the group, broken only by Lunar's remark. "Seems like we've been thrown for a loop, Gratien," he mused.

Silent contemplation was Gratien's response, his thoughts concealed beneath his stoic facade.

"Can't believe we have some little girl guiding us now," Declan exclaimed. "And how in desolation is she sitting in front of Imbra?! What happened to his extreme hostility?"

"Don't fret it, Declan," Lunar retorted. "As long as we reach Blightmoor, that is what we should be worried about the most. Judging from Imbra's annoyed demeanour, I am certain he will dismiss her the moment we reach there, anyway."

…..

As the group continued their journey with their unexpected companion, Imbra's gaze remained fixated on Lyra's small frame until he noticed something peculiar about her. Her shoulder blades protruded more prominently than those of a typical human. Given her ethereal appearance, he couldn't help but ask, "Lyra, your back... are you an Aerithan?"

Lyra's demeanor shifted, and she slowly lowered her head, her gaze fixed on the horse's neck as they traversed the grounds. "How did you know?" she whispered.

"Only Aerithans possess such distinctive shoulder blades. In fact, you appear to be one of the rare individuals capable of growing wings. Am I correct?"

"….."

There was a brief hesitation, during which it became evident that Lyra was uncomfortable discussing this topic. Imbra let out another sigh, glancing upward as he reassured her, "Do not worry. I have no intention of selling you or anything of the sort."

"…really?"

"I have no need for money."

"So it is just because you do not need any more money?"

"Yes, what other reason would I have?"

"…nothing! We are almost nearing Blightmoor. Take a turn to the right," she responded, directing their attention to a seemingly inconspicuous entranceway on the right side of the path. It appeared desolate and unassuming, like a small grave, completely at odds with the notion of being the pathway to Blightmoor. It was a well-kept secret, hidden from prying eyes until now.

Once the group repositioned their horses, they began walking through the tall fields. Suddenly, Lyra's demeanor shifted dramatically. She grew visibly hostile and apprehensive, leaning closer to Imbra and signaling for him to hide her within his black robe. Confused, Imbra asked, "What's the matter? Isn't this where we're meant to be?"

"N-no... but please, can you hide me in your robe?" Lyra pleaded, her voice tinged with fear. With tears threatening to spill, she turned her fragile body toward Imbra, desperately tugging his robe over her. Imbra exchanged a perplexed glance with Zynphina, who nodded in agreement, sensing the presence of another approaching. He complied, covering Lyra with his robe. She closed her eyes, burying her head within Imbra's clothes, leaving no trace of her except for a small trail of her snow-white hair.

They resumed their march until a dark magical particle materialized—a small black cloud exuding heaviness, devoid of any semblance of light. Imbra signalled the others to halt as a figure emerged from the darkness.

The man appeared to be around 30 years old, adorned in noble-like attire adorned with silver shoulder plates. Perched on his left shoulder was a crow with blue eyes, which created a striking contrast against his black hair. His own eyes, also blue but less humanlike, possessed vertical pupils akin to a dragon's gaze. A scar marred the left side of his face, adding to his sharp and intense expression. Furrowing his eyebrows, he scrutinized the group approaching him.

"It seems that my Master was correct, after all," the man smirked, his demeanor unexpected and puzzling. Unfazed by this odd behavior, Imbra addressed him with an imposing tone, demanding, "Who is your master? Are you a citizen of Blightmoor?"

"I am the First guardian of Blightmoor. Your presence has been anticipated, Child of Darkness."

"Is that so? Who is expecting me?"

"Someone, none other than my Master, Julius himself."

Lyra gasped, her body trembling for a moment. Imbra noticed the faint trail of her hair still visible and gently buried it beneath his robe, maintaining eye contact with the guardian. "What business does the Lord of Blightmoor have with me?" Imbra inquired.

"That is something I may not disclose to you, Child of Darkness. Let me guide you through the city itself, and have you meet Julius himself. I wager you are journeying to the Tombs of my Lord, correct?"

Imbra's eyes narrowed, and a sense of unease washed over Zynphina and the others as they awaited his response.