Chapter 64- Day one, Wave one

  Ryn tried to determine how the aberrations had been killed.

  He crouched among the scattered remains, turning bleached bones over carefully—but there were no visible scars. No cracks. No signs of impact or tearing. If anything, the bones were spotless, untouched except for the fine layer of dust settled over them.

  That alone unsettled him.

  He moved on to the weapons littered among the remains. They were made of metal, or something meant to resemble it—but corrosion had eaten away at them so thoroughly that he couldn’t tell what kind. The same was true for the scraps of armor and cloth nearby.

  They felt right.

  Like metal. Like fabric.

  Yet no matter how closely he examined them, he couldn’t identify what they were made of—almost as if they were only imitations of the ideas of those materials.

  That raised another question.

  If so?

  Why?

  And what did that mean for this place?

  Nearby, Lilia was crouched beside one of the many journals scattered across the floor.

  There were dozens of them—but for some reason, this one had caught her attention.

  She hesitated, fingers hovering over the cover. She wasn’t sure it was safe to open.

  Yet she did anyway.

  The book fell open to pages filled with writing.

  Words, clear, deliberate.

  She leaned closer, trying to make sense of them. The letters were familiar, unmistakably written in the common language used in Solvara and most other countries.

  And yet—

  As she focused, the meaning slipped away.

  She could see the words perfectly.

  Every letter. Every line.

  But no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t understand what they were trying to say.

  Eventually, as she tried harder and harder to force meaning from the words, a wave of dizziness washed over her.

  She sucked in a sharp breath and had to look away.

  The taste of bile crept up her throat. She swallowed it down, steadying herself, then lifted her gaze back toward the temple—and the cart beside it.

  There has to be a reason, she thought.

  There has to be.

  The cart was real. She knew that much.

  And if it were real, then there was an explanation. There was always an explanation.

  Maybe the trial replicated objects. Maybe it pulled things from memory. Maybe time worked differently here—

  No, that didn’t account for the decay.

  Unless decay was simulated too.

  Her thoughts looped, circling the same ideas, each answer breaking apart the moment she touched it.

  She tried to hold onto one possibility, any possibility, but they slipped through her fingers, leaving only more questions behind.

  The longer she stood there, the more her chest tightened.

  The problem wasn’t that there were no answers.

  It was that there were too many, and none of them fit.

  Lilia wished, desperately, that she knew more.

  That they knew more

  If only Solvara had tried, really tried, to learn—to do, instead of sealing itself away.

  If only it hadn’t locked itself behind walls of ignorance.

  Maybe then things would have been different.

  Maybe a lot of things would have been different.

  “Lilia.”

  She barely registered it.

  “Lilia!”

  She flinched and turned to see Ryn standing a few steps away, watching her closely.

  “You’ve been standing still,” he said.

  Lilia shook her head quickly, forcing herself to straighten.

  “Ah—sorry. I- I was just thinking.”

  Ryn stepped closer. As he did, he placed a steady hand on her shoulder.

  “Relax,” he said quietly.

  “There’s nothing we can do about it right now.”

  A pause.

  “Don’t overthink it,” he added. “Let’s just use what we’ve got.”

  Lilia looked down at the rotted, torn journal still clutched in her hands.

  She wasn’t sure she could stop herself from overthinking, but she had to be rational. Right now, there was nothing she could do. No matter how hard she turned it over in her mind, no answer would come.

  She was used to that.

  So what difference did it make now?

  She nodded to herself and drew a breath, about to speak.

  “Ry—”

  Ariel cut her off.

  “There’s something wrong with it.”

  Lilia turned toward her at once.

  Ariel hadn’t said anything since they’d reached the temple.

  She lifted the necklace, holding it up so the light caught on the gold.

  “This isn’t right.”

  Lilia frowned slightly. “What do you mean…?”

  Ariel’s fingers tightened around the chain.

  “I can’t explain it,” she said quietly. “It just… isn’t.”

  She swallowed.

  “I’ve had this necklace for as long as I can remember. But something about this one—”

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  Her grip tightened again.

  “It’s not the same.”

  Lilia nodded slowly.

  There wasn’t anything she could do with that knowledge right now—but Lilia kept it in mind.

  Ryn hadn’t said a word while Ariel spoke. Now, finally, he did.

  “Let’s gather what’s useful.”

  Lilia nodded. “Right.”

  She sorted through the journals, torn rags, and scattered clothing, picking carefully. None of it was badly stained, no blood, just layers of dust. If anything, the fabric was in better condition than what they’d been wearing.

  Ryn moved through the remains of armor and weapon scraps, testing weight, balance, and durability, discarding what wouldn’t last.

  By the time they finished, Lilia had gathered enough clothing for all three of them—rough linen tunics, strips of sturdy cloth for bandaging, and one empty journal she quietly decided to keep.

  Ryn had also managed to salvage usable weapons and armor pieces for each of them.

  Lilia lifted a bundle of ragged clothing.

  “Arie could you go change into this?”

  Ariel nodded.

  Lilia followed her.

  Ariel paused.

  “You don’t need to follow me.”

  Lilia hesitated, slightly taken aback—then nodded.

  “Okay.”

  A few minutes later, they had changed out of the clothes they’d been wearing since Solvara’s fall.

  The remnants of Ariel's shredded white dress and Lial's tattered maid uniform had vanished.

  In their place were simple linen tunics—rough but clean—oversized enough to fall past their knees, cinched tightly at the waist, they left the shoulders exposed and vulnerable, However Scraps of armor were strapped over them where Ryn had fitted the pieces.

  Ryn still wore his own armor, though it bore a heavy scar on the side.

  He reached for one of the rusted swords scattered among the bones.

  His hand stopped halfway.

  Then he shook his head—and took it anyway.

  He handed Lilia a rusted blade.

  Ariel chose a small, rusted knife for herself.

  Combined with what they still had from the cart, it was the best-equipped they’d been since Solvara’s destruction.

  At first, Ariel had refused Lilia’s help.

  But when she struggled with the straps of her armor pieces, Lilia stepped forward and tightened them for her.

  Ariel stiffened at first.

  Then she went still.

  She didn’t say anything.

  ***

  They gathered what they could from the cart.

  It felt wrong to touch it.

  Like handling a memory that didn’t belong here.

  The food was rotted and foul-smelling, its texture soft and unpleasant—but strangely, there was no visible mold. No maggots. No signs of insects ever touching it. It was decay without life, as if time had stopped halfway through the process.

  The water canisters, on the other hand, were perfectly fine.

  Clear. Odorless. Cool to the touch.

  Lilia paused with one in her hands, frowning.

  That doesn’t make sense.

  Lilia stared at it, stomach churning, Decay without life…

  That shouldn't be possible. Nothing in nature rotted without something consuming it.

  Questions bubbled up instinctively—but she pushed them down. Whatever this place was doing, she couldn’t afford to chase every inconsistency.

  Priorities.

  Nearby, Ryn shifted and briefly grabbed at his side before forcing his hand back down.

  Her eyes lingered on him for a moment before she spoke.

  “We should set up camp.”

  Ryn Hesistated for a second before nodding, then glanced around the ruined temple—the piles of bones, and scattered armor scraps.

  “I don’t think it should be here,” Lilia added quietly, scratching her cheek. “But wandering aimlessly won’t help either.”

  Ariel spoke last.

  “We could…” She hesitated, then steadied herself. “We could use the temple as a landmark. Set up camp outside.”

  Lilia nodded.

  “Yeah… that works.”

  As they walked away from the temple, something tugged at Lilia’s attention.

  The grass had stopped moving.

  No sway.

  No ripple.

  She glanced up.

  Is the sky darker…?

  No. Probably her imagination.

  Still—

  Odd.

  She pushed the thought aside.

  They chose a spot near one of the ruins—a leaning structure partially collapsed, its white stone cracked and dulled, moss and dirt clinging to its surface. It was a short walk from the temple, close enough to see.

  Lilia spread a large piece of cloth over the ruined stone, anchoring it down and turning it into a makeshift shelter.

  Her hands moved automatically.

  She’d been doing a lot of that lately.

  After she collapsed onto the ground with exhaustion

  She hadn’t realized how much had happened in just a few hours—but her body clearly had. Every muscle ached as if she’d been running for days.

  Ryn sat a few feet away, his back to the ruins as he wrapped cloth carefully around the wound at his side. He worked in silence.

  Ariel sat farther off, knees drawn close, staring at nothing in particular.

  The necklace still hung from her fingers

  Minutes passed without a word.

  Then Ariel spoke softly, almost afraid to break the quiet.

  “…Are you okay?”

  Ryn didn’t answer right away.

  He only nodded once.

  Ariel looked away.

  And replied similarly with a nod.

  Lilia pushed herself back up, stretching stiffly.

  “Its been a few hours,” she said, trying to sound steady.

  “Let’s get some rest. We’ll figure things out later, when we’re not completely exhausted.”

  The group nodded.

  Ryn spoke last.

  “I’ll take watch.”

  Although the six suns still burned brightly overhead, it was clear they needed at least a few hours of rest before they could find their bearings again.

  As Lilia lay back in the grass, she felt the warmth beneath her begin to drain away.

  At first, it was subtle, like the earth exhaling after holding heat too long.

  Then the blades beneath her fingers cooled, stiffened, no longer pliant.

  That’s strange…

  She shifted slightly, pressing her palm into the ground.

  Cold.

  She frowned, but said nothing.

  The air changed next.

  It thinned.

  Not colder at first, sharper.

  Each breath scraped faintly at the back of the throat, as if the space around them had grown brittle.

  Ariel felt it first.

  Maybe it was her connection to the sun.

  Maybe it was the way her senses had changed since becoming blessed.

  Either way, her heart dropped.

  Something heavy settled in her chest, slow and deliberate, like an unseen hand closing around her ribs. Her breath caught halfway in. The warmth she had felt since entering the trial recoiled inward, pulling tight around her heart.

  She swallowed hard and lifted her head.

  One of the suns, the far left, was dimming.

  Its blinding gold bled away into a softer amber, pale and wrong. The sight made her stomach twist. It reminded her of the moon.

  Her teeth began to chatter involuntarily.

  Fear followed immediately after.

  “Ryn… Lilia,” Ariel whispered, pointing toward the sky.

  They followed her gaze.

  The suns were going out.

  One by one.

  By the time Ryn and Lilia fully understood what was happening, two more had already begun to fade.

  Panic set in.

  They scrambled to their feet, hands fumbling for weapons, packs, anything. They didn’t know enough. They didn’t know what would happen when the last sun fell.

  And there was no time to find out.

  The final sun hung low on the horizon—a dying ember.

  Its light washed the world in deep blood-orange, stretching shadows impossibly long.

  Then—

  Darkness fell.

  Like a curtain dropped without warning. Not the slow dimming of dusk—this was instant. Total. Suffocating.

  “I—I can’t see—” Lilia’s voice cracked.

  The world had vanished.

  Ariel swallowed hard.

  “Let me,” she whispered.

  She groaned as a small flame bloomed in her palm, its light trembling and weak. Beyond its reach, there was nothing but endless black.

  Lilia lingered on Ariel’s flames for a moment, just long enough for something to tighten in her chest, before she forced herself to look away.

  Then—

  Voices filled their minds.

  Twisted. Layered. Wrong.

  Not spoken aloud—but pressed directly into their thoughts.

  [Challenge One…]

  Ariel’s breath caught.

  The flame flickered violently, shadows snapping and recoiling across the ground.

  [Begins.]

  Ariel's light flickered. Somewhere in the darkness, something moved.

  The flame bent toward it.