Chapter 55: Lyra

The world outside the sphere of battle faded to a distant, echoing roar. The Eclipse Order’s circle pressed in, but for a moment, the only reality was the battered ground beneath my boots and the woman—no, the dragon—who stood before me.


She breath came shallow, her body trembling with exhaustion. Her scales shimmered, flickering between dragon and human as her magic strained to hold her form. Blood dripped from her wounds, pooling at her feet, but her eyes—golden, fierce—never wavered.


I kept my stance low, dagger drawn, every muscle taut. My mind mapped every angle, every line of attack, every possible escape. But every calculation came up short.


We were surrounded. Outnumbered. The Eclipse Leader’s presence was a weight on my chest, suffocating.


Her voice broke through my thoughts, calm and clear. “Aren. Look at me.”


I did.


She formed a mana shield covering us ,using her remaining magic power .


She was already reaching into the folds of her battered wing, drawing out from—the pocket dimension. She flicked it open, and space twisted, folding in on itself. From within, she drew out a crystal sphere, pulsing with blue light.


A teleportation artifact.


I shook my head instantly. “No. Don’t even think about it.”


She pressed the artifact into my hand, her grip surprisingly strong. “You have to go. This is your only chance.”


I clenched my jaw, refusing to take it. “I’m not leaving you behind. We fight together or not at all.”


Her lips curled into a faint, sad smile. “Stubborn as always. But you know this isn’t a fight we can win.”


I scanned the circle of Eclipse soldiers. Their formation was tight, weapons ready. The Leader stood at the center, sword gleaming with cold light. I measured the distance—too far to break through, too close for another plan. The artifact’s weight in my palm was a promise and a curse.


Lyra’s gaze softened. “Listen to me. This artifact—” she nodded at the sphere—“can only teleport a human. My magic power… it’s too much. It would tear the spell apart.”


I shook my head again, voice rough. “We find another way. There’s always a way.”


She let out a breath, almost a laugh. “You always say that. But sometimes, the only way is forward, even if it means going alone.”


The Eclipse Leader took a step forward, sword raised. “Enough stalling.”


She turned, her body shifting fully to human—tall, elegant, her silver-black hair falling over her shoulders, her wounds now scars on pale skin. She stood between me and the enemy, every inch a queen.


She looked back at me. “Aren, I need you to trust me.”


I stared at her, heart pounding. “I do. But I’m not abandoning you.”


She reached into the pocket dimension again and withdrew a dragon egg, faintly glowing, warm in her hands. She pressed it to my chest. “Then trust that I know what I’m doing. Take this. It’s… everything.”


My fingers closed around the egg, feeling the faint pulse of life within. My mind raced—weight, temperature, shell thickness. It was fragile, but not as fragile as it looked.


Lyra’s voice was soft. “This is my kin. My child. My hope. If you stay, we both die. If you go, something of me survives.”


I shook my head, voice breaking. “I can’t. I won’t.”


She smiled, bittersweet. “You must. Because you’re not just fighting for yourself anymore.”


The Eclipse Leader’s voice cut through the air—cold, precise. “I won't him go.”


The leader hesitated, sword lowering a fraction.


I stepped forward, voice low. “ There’s got to be a way—”


She reached out, her hand trembling as she brushed my cheek. “You always look for the angles, the escape routes. But sometimes, Aren, you have to trust someone else to make the sacrifice.”


I swallowed, throat tight. “I’m not good at that.”


She laughed, a sound like breaking glass. “I noticed.”


The artifact pulsed, the light growing brighter. I felt the magic start to swirl around us, a pressure building in the air.


She leaned in, her voice barely above a whisper. “You reminded me what it means to fight for something more than survival. Don’t waste it.”


I gripped her hand, desperate. “I can’t just let you—”


She pressed the egg and the pocket dimension into my arms. “Live, Aren. So they can’t kill all of us.”


The magic surged, the light swirling faster. The world outside the sphere of magic grew distant, the sounds of battle fading to a dull roar.


Her form shimmered, her hair drifting like smoke. She stepped back, her human shape dissolving into motes of light.


“My name,” she whispered, “is Lyra.”


The magic surged, the light blinding. I reached for her, but my hand closed on empty air.


“Lyra—!”


She smiled, serene and unafraid. “Remember.”


The magic completed. I felt myself being pulled, the world tearing away.


The last thing I saw was her golden gaze—steady, unbroken, full of everything she could not say.


And then I was gone.


I landed hard, the world spinning. Cold wind bit at my skin. I staggered to my feet, clutching the egg and the artifact, the taste of salt and sorrow on my lips.


I stood on a high cliff, far from the battlefield. The sky was clear, the stars sharp and cold. Below, the world stretched out—vast, indifferent, waiting.


I fell to my knees, the weight of loss crashing over me.


Her name was Lyra.


But in my arms, her legacy burned with quiet light.




To be continued