As Merial gathered the most relevant texts to review before their departure, she found herself alone with Thelian for a moment. The ancient archivist was gazing out one of the tower windows, his expression distant and troubled.
"You're concerned about something specific," she observed, joining him at the window. "Something you didn't want to discuss in front of the others."
Thelian smiled faintly, unsurprised by her perception. "You always were unusually insightful, even as a student," he said. "Yes, there is something that concerns me, though it may be nothing more than an old scholar's paranoia."
"Tell me," Merial urged. "Whatever it is, I should know before we leave."
The archivist sighed, his ancient eyes focusing on her with unexpected intensity. "The historical accounts of the previous cycle are incomplete, as I mentioned. Deliberately so, in many cases. But there are... hints, suggestions in certain texts that the situation was more complex than a simple conflict between those who wished to maintain the First's prison and those who sought its liberation."
"What kind of hints?" Merial asked, her researcher's curiosity fully engaged.
"References to 'older interests,' to 'watchers beyond the watchers,' to 'games within games,'" Thelian replied. "Nothing explicit, nothing that can be verified. But enough to make me wonder if there might be forces at work beyond even the Lady of Shadows and her agents — forces that have been manipulating events for cycles, perhaps for millennia."
It was a disturbing thought, suggesting layers of complexity and potential manipulation beyond what they had already identified. "Do you have any idea who or what these forces might be?" Merial asked.
Thelian shook his head. "Only theories, none with sufficient evidence to share responsibly. But I tell you this not to add to your burden, Merial, but to urge caution. Question everything, even — perhaps especially — what seems most certain. The choice you three face may have implications beyond what any of us can currently comprehend."
Merial absorbed this warning thoughtfully. It aligned with her own growing sense that the situation was more nuanced than the binary choice presented in the ancient texts. "I'll keep this in mind," she promised. "And I'll share it with Karel and Ithor when the time seems right."
"Good," Thelian said, seeming relieved. "Now, let us focus on more immediate preparations. The journey to Mount Veridia will be challenging enough without adding metaphysical concerns to your pack."
They spent the remaining hours of the day in focused preparation — Merial reviewing texts and gathering instruments, Karel arranging supplies and sending messages to Olkaris, Ithor receiving final treatments from the University healers. By nightfall, all three had retired to their respective quarters for what might be their last comfortable rest before the journey ahead.
Merial found sleep elusive despite her physical exhaustion. Her mind kept returning to Thelian's warning about "older interests" and "games within games." What if the choice they faced was not what it appeared to be? What if both strengthening the prison and allowing liberation served some agenda they couldn't yet perceive?
When she finally did drift off, her dreams were filled with fragmented images: corrupted runic patterns swirling into meaningful configurations before dissolving again; a mountain peak where seven streams began their journey to the corners of Inhevaen; three figures standing at a threshold between worlds, facing a decision that would echo through time.
She awoke before dawn, feeling more resolved than rested. Whatever complexities awaited them, whatever hidden agendas might be at work, they would face them together — Bearer, Word, and Broken Bond, each bringing their unique perspective and abilities to the challenge.
The eastern gate of Ny'theras was quiet in the pre-dawn light, most of the University still asleep. Karel and Ithor were already waiting when Merial arrived, both dressed for travel and carrying packs that suggested they had followed the prince's advice to travel light but prepared.
Karel had exchanged his formal Olkhar attire for more practical clothing, though the quality and subtle details still marked him as nobility. The seven gifts of his heritage were visible as a faint multicolored aura around him, more pronounced than when Merial had first met him in Olkaris.
Ithor looked stronger than he had the day before, the final treatments from the University healers having accelerated his recovery. He wore the practical garb of a wilderness guide, with multiple weapons visible and probably more concealed. The broken fang of his Anirû companion hung prominently around his neck, and occasionally he would touch it, as if drawing reassurance from the connection it represented.
"Ready?" Karel asked as Merial joined them, his expression a mixture of determination and concern.
She nodded, adjusting the pack that contained her research materials and analytical instruments. "As ready as possible, given the circumstances."
"Then let's move," Ithor said, already turning toward the path that would lead them north, toward the Great Forest and eventually to the mountains beyond. "We have ground to cover before nightfall."
They set out in the growing light of dawn, three individuals from different races and backgrounds, united by a prophecy and a responsibility none of them had sought but all had accepted. The Bearer, the Word, and the Broken Bond, journeying toward a choice that would determine the future of Inhevaen.
Behind them, the crystal towers of Ny'theras caught the first rays of sunlight, transforming them into beacons of color against the sky. Ahead lay uncertainty, danger, and a decision with consequences none of them could fully predict.
The journey had begun.
For three days, they traveled northward, following ancient paths that skirted the edges of settled territories. Ithor led them with the confidence of one born to the wilderness, choosing routes that offered both concealment and efficiency. Karel, despite his royal upbringing, proved surprisingly adept at the rigors of travel, his seven gifts providing enhanced endurance and awareness. Merial, though more accustomed to academic pursuits than physical challenges, kept pace without complaint, her determination compensating for any lack of wilderness experience.
They encountered few other travelers, which Ithor attributed to both their chosen route and a general wariness that seemed to have spread across Inhevaen. "People sense something coming," he explained during an evening rest. "They may not understand it consciously, but at some level, they feel the Dome's instability. It makes them cautious, reluctant to venture far from familiar territory."
"The animals feel it too," Karel added, his Naruun gift allowing him a limited awareness of the wildlife around them. "There's a tension, an alertness that isn't normal. As if they're preparing for something."
Merial had noticed similar patterns in the plant life they passed — subtle changes in growth patterns, unusual blooming or withering that suggested a response to stress. The entire ecosystem of Inhevaen seemed to be reacting to the Dome's instability, preparing for whatever might come next.
On the morning of the fourth day, they reached the edge of the Great Forest — a vast expanse of ancient trees that stretched to the horizon, its depths home to the Naruun people and the Anirû beasts with whom they shared a spiritual bond. Ithor paused at the forest's edge, his expression a complex mixture of longing, pain, and resolution.
"This was my home," he said quietly. "Before Nora's manipulation, before Faaron's death, before my exile. I haven't entered these woods since that night three years ago."
Karel placed a supportive hand on the Naruun's shoulder. "We can find another route if this is too difficult."
Ithor shook his head, his jaw set with determination. "No. This is the fastest path to the mountains, and time is critical. Besides..." He touched the broken fang around his neck.
"Faaron's presence is stronger here, in the land where we bonded and hunted together. That can only help us."
They entered the forest under Ithor's guidance, moving along game trails and hidden paths that few outsiders would notice. The canopy above was so dense that only dappled sunlight reached the forest floor, creating an eternal twilight realm of shadows and whispers. The air was rich with the scents of growth and decay, of life in all its complex cycles.