Adrix’s shadow detached itself from a deeper patch of gloom, his voice a low urgency. “Lyra we have the staff. We better keep moving.”

A shuddering sigh escaped me, heavy with exhaustion and the metallic tang of old magic.

“I’ll conceal it,” he said, his gaze, sharp darting through the oppressive dimness. “No sense advertising we have an ancient staff.” I relinquished the staff, its ancient wood still humming faintly against my palm. With a ripple in the air beside him, it vanished into his dimensional storage.

“Ready?” I breathed, the word barely disturbing the stillness.

“As I’ll ever be,” he replied, and with a practiced movement, slipped back through the shimmering illusion of the wall. We retraced our steps, the silence now taut with the fear of discovery.

“The way you handled mana,” Adrix began, his brow a furrowed map of concentration, his voice a careful murmur. “It’s… unlike anything. You’re no mage, Lyra, yet the mana…”

“Definitely not,” I agreed, though a phantom thrum, a memory of channeling immense energy, resonated deep within my core. Our pace instinctively slowed as Adrix drew almost imperceptibly nearer, his focus entirely on me.

“It was as if your very being became a conduit, a bottomless reservoir,” he mused, his eyes distant. “Absorbing, then redirecting. Is that how you stabilized me when I was… overflowing?”

“Perhaps,” I conceded, the theory plausible. “But beyond that one instance, it feels more like a liability than a gift.”

“It guided us to staff,” he stated, his voice imbued with a certainty that chipped away at my doubt. “Without it, we’d still be fumbling in the dark.” True, I silently acknowledged, the echo of the staff’s call still a faint hum in my mind.

Silence descended again, thick and watchful, until we reached the unyielding expanse of the dead-end wall. “And now?” Adrix’s blue mana orb, cupped in his palm, cast an expectant, ethereal glow on the impassive stone, revealing nothing – no lever, no hidden seam, no tell-tale switch. My hands, clammy with apprehension, slid across the cold, indifferent surface, searching, probing. A knot of pure anxiety tightened in my stomach. Please, let no one be on the other side. How would we ever explain this? Finally, one stone gave, a fractional shift under my desperate pressure. With a sharp, indrawn breath and a determined shove, the stone clicked inward. A low, guttural rumble vibrated through the floor as the wall groaned open.

We peered out, twin shadows in the opening. Empty. Blessed emptiness. With a soft, decisive click, the stone barrier sealed itself behind us, muffling the secrets it now guarded.

“This way,” I whispered. “Thalia’s chambers should be this way.”

The castle was a labyrinth, each corridor a near-identical twin of the last. We reached an intersection, four paths diverging into shadow, just as a figure rounded the corner. A maid. My stomach plummeted, cold and heavy. Oh, spirits, no. The same one. My gaze instinctively dropped. Beside me, Adrix mirrored my posture, becoming just another faceless servant.

“Stop,” she commanded, her voice a whip-crack in the sudden silence.

I studied the intricate patterns of dust on the floor stones as if they held the secrets of the universe. Her worn leather boots appeared, scuffed and practical, halting inches from mine. My heart hammered a frantic rhythm against my ribs. What now? What possible excuse—

“Look up,” she snapped, impatience lacing her tone.

My gaze crawled reluctantly, painfully, upwards, meeting hers. They were eyes that missed nothing.

“Hmmm,” she purred, a sound like silk drawn over a razor. Her eyes, small and sharp. “Lilly, isn’t it? The one who was so clumsy earlier?”

“Yes,” I squeaked, the word a pathetic tremor.

“And what, pray tell, are you doing skulking about now? Who is this… companion?” Her scrutiny was a physical weight, pressing down, suffocating. “Chores were concluded hours ago.”

“He’s… a new servant for the Princess,” my voice embarrassingly shaky. “We were… dispatched on an errand for her. We’re just returning.”

“An errand?” she pressed, disbelief etched into every line of her face. “At this hour? What manner of errand?”

Adrix remained a silent statue beside me, his head still bowed in feigned subservience.

“She required us to… to check the storage,” I elaborated, desperately grasping for plausible details. “For… for ingredients. She had a craving for a… a late-night snack.”

The maid fell silent, her eyes raking over us, suspicion a palpable aura around her. Just then, the rhythmic clang of armor echoed from the far end of the corridor. Two guards, their breastplates glinting dully in the sparse torchlight. Shift change. Of course. The stark realization hit me with the force of a physical blow: We are utterly, royally doomed.

“Guards!” the maid’s voice rang out, sharp with authority. “These two! They reek of suspicion. We’ll present them to the Princess.”

A choked sound escaped me as I instinctively recoiled. Adrix tensed, his hand making a fractional, almost invisible movement, as if to start summoning mana. He shot me a fast glance, a question in his eyes. I shook my head, a minute, desperate gesture. Please, I pleaded silently, willing him to understand, be scared, not lethal.

The fight leached from Adrix’s frame, a barely perceptible deflation. It was enough. A meaty thud—a guard colliding with Adrix, expertly wrenching his arms back. The other seized me, his grip like iron bands, yanking my arms with brutal force. The ropes bit savagely into my wrists as he cinched them tight, raw fire blooming under my skin.

We were marched, silent and defeated, through the winding halls, our captors’ heavy footfalls a grim counterpoint to our own. Thalia can fix this, I chanted internally, clinging to that fragile sliver of hope. She has to.

They halted before a familiar, ornately carved door. One guard rapped sharply – once, twice – then, without ceremony or awaiting a response, shoved it wide.

“Oh, visitors!” Princess Thalia’s voice was a confection of surprise and delight, sugary sweet and utterly alien to the sharp-witted woman I knew. “How perfectly lovely. To what do I owe this unexpected pleasure?” She sat poised at her elegant writing desk, a quill delicately suspended. The transformation was breathtaking. This is her protection, I realized with a sickening lurch, her shield in this den of vipers.

Before Thalia could even begin to rise, perhaps before her greeting had fully registered, the guards shoved Adrix and me forward. My knees slammed into the cold, polished marble with a sickening crack, pain lancing up my legs. I bit down hard on my lip, the coppery taste of blood filling my mouth, a silent vow not to cry out. Their contempt was palpable; no greeting, no request for entry, just brute force in the heart of her sanctuary.

“Princess,” one of the guards stated, his voice flat, bordering on insolent.

Thalia’s smile didn’t waver, though a fleeting, unreadable shadow – colder than the marble floor – flickered in her eyes before vanishing. “Yes, Captain? These are my people, are they not? Newly entered into my service. Please, do forgive any minor transgression they might have inadvertently committed in their unfamiliarity.”

The maid, who had trailed everyone else in, stepped forward, her expression a mask of stern disapproval. “They were discovered roaming the corridors, Princess. Long after they should have been abed. Their claim? An errand for you—to fetch ingredients from the stirage for a late-night snack.”

“Ah, yes, indeed, that is so,” Thalia trilled, her voice dripping with an almost cloying apology. “The fault is entirely mine, I fear. Such an inconvenient craving! I do extend my sincerest apologies if I’ve caused any… disturbance.” She inclined her head, a perfect picture of demure contrition. My insides twisted. She shouldn’t be humbling herself to these people.

“Very well,” the maid conceded, though her eyes remained glacial. “But be advised, Princess. They should not be wandering without purpose. They might encounter individuals far less… understanding than myself.” The unspoken threat hung in the air, thick and venomous.

Thalia maintained her bowed head. “Of course. You have my deepest gratitude for your vigilance. I shall ensure they are better acquainted with the protocols.”

With rough, impatient hands, the guards untied us, the ropes leaving angry, burning welts on my wrists. They left us kneeling, then turned on their heels, the heavy door slamming shut behind them with a resounding crash that made me flinch.

The silence stretched, taut and ringing, broken only by our ragged, unsteady breaths, until the heavy tread of the guards’ boots finally receded down the corridor. Princess Thalia moved with swift, silent grace to the door, the tumblers of the lock clicking into place with satisfying finality.

She released a slow, deliberate breath, and as she turned, the rigid mask of formal composure dissolved, revealing the familiar glint of sharp irritation. “It has been a remarkably long time since anyone dared to barge into my private chambers with such audacity,” she stated, her voice tight with controlled fury. Then, her expression softened as her gaze fell upon Adrix and me, genuine worry etching fine lines around her eyes. “Are you both okay?”

We nodded in unison, scrambling to our feet. “We’re fine, Princess,” I managed, my voice still hoarse. My knees throbbed a painful protest.

“Good. A relief,” she said, a genuine sigh escaping her. “Please come sit.” She gestured towards a plush chaise lounge. As we sank onto it, Thalia leaned back against her ornate desk, perching on its edge, one leg elegantly crossed. The demure noblewoman was utterly gone, replaced by the focused leader. “Now,” she said, her eyes alight with sharp expectancy, “Were you successful?”

“We were,” Adrix confirmed. Beside him, the air shimmered, and with a soft pop, the Elders Staff materialized in his hand. The intricately carved wood, dark and ancient, and the softly glowing gem at its apex seemed to pulse with a gentle, resonant energy in the lamplight.

The Princess’s eyes widened, then ignited with a triumphant, almost feral gleam. “Magnificent,” she breathed, her gaze devouring the staff. “Truly… it is as the legends described. I am profoundly glad it is recovered.” She studied it a moment longer, a thoughtful, almost reverent expression on her face. “Now that it is in your possession, it is imperative we return you both to Noctis. Time is a luxury we no longer possess.” She paused, her gaze sweeping over us. “Unless, of course, there are further questions for me now?”

“What happens next?” I asked, the words tumbling out, voicing the gnawing uncertainty that had plagued me.

Thalia considered this, her brow furrowing slightly. “The full plan is not yet ready to be unveiled. But know this: we are on the precipice. Amelia will make contact, or I shall reach out myself with explicit instructions. Soon.” She scanned both our faces, a silent assessment. “If that is all for the present…”

Her hands rose, fingers splayed. The air before her bled color – her unique mana, a breathtaking vortex of soft lavenders and vibrant pinks, tearing reality asunder. A shimmering portal bloomed, crackling with contained power, its light painting the opulent room in ethereal hues.

“Good luck, you two,” she said, her voice earnest, the earlier strain erased, replaced by unwavering resolve.

“And to you, Princess,” Adrix replied, his voice firm.

I echoed his sentiment, “Good luck.”

Together, Adrix and I stepped through the swirling, kaleidoscopic energies of the portal, leaving the Princess and her chambers behind us.