"What exactly happened in Drakensmar?"
Lyra blurted the question before she could stop herself.
The priestess, who had been explaining everything with calm enthusiasm until now, abruptly paused.
Her gaze turned slowly toward Lyra. It was difficult to tell if she was displeased—her face remained an unreadable mask, neither stern nor indulgent.
For several long seconds, she said nothing.
Then, at last, she spoke, voice flat but edged with something colder.
"You can ask Lugh about that yourself."
Lyra frowned.
'As expected, she won't budge.'
She muttered the words to herself grimly, shifting her gaze toward Lugh. He wasn't in any condition to answer questions—his body slumped, his mind clouded.
His silence was not refusal; it was incapacity.
And if Xhi didn't plan on answering either, then she was out of options.
Still, she didn't regret asking.
Then, Xhi's voice rang out again, cutting cleanly through the fog in Lyra's mind.
