We needed a place to hide. And rest. And maybe, just maybe, eat something. Lyra just offered her services, and then dropped the bombshell that the Temple wanted my head.
Then Lyra in her typical fashion, offered us refuge at her "Contractless safehouse." I wasn't entirely sure how safe it was but after the last few hours we have had, I was willing to follow a goblin if it promised a bed and a sandwich.
And so, we followed Lyra deeper into the forest. She led us through narrow paths and tangled undergrowth, until we finally reached it.
The Contractless safehouse. It was a crumbling farmhouse that smelled vaguely of wet hay and herbs. The kind of place where the term "rustic charm" meant "impending structural collapse."
It was also the kind of place that seemed very too easy to find. My internal alarm bells, which had been ringing pretty much non-stop since I met Kaelen, decided to upgrade to a full-blown air raid siren.
Well, hopefully it doesn't happen too soon, its not like we were gonna camp here.
Lyra, ever the gracious host, greeted us by tossing a jar of glowing, bubbling sludge at my head immediately I stepped over the threshold.
"Catch!" she chirped, as if this was a perfectly normal way to welcome guests. I barely managed to swat it away and the goo splattering on the floor.
Kaelen leaned against the doorframe, his arms crossed and radiating an aura that screamed "I'd rather be literally anywhere else, just as long as she isn't there."
His stupidly perfect cheek still had the faint, angry red outline of my slap. Good. It was a small victory, but it was mine.
Lyra sniffed the air dramatically, her nose wrinkling. "You two reek of Bond energy. Like a campfire made of desperation. You're practically glowing with it."
She suddenly jabbed a finger, at Kaelen's chest. "You. Shirt off. Now."
Kaelen blinked, his princely composure faltering just a bit. He raised one perfect eyebrow in a challenge. "Excuse me?" he asked, his voice dangerously low, the kind that usually came before a surge of shadows.
Lyra ignored him, sampling a small vial of bubbling, iridescent liquid. She held it up like a trophy. "Your shadow core's flickering like a dying firefly, princeling. It's unstable. Remove your shirt now or I'll melt it off. I've got potions for everything. Test me, princeling."
Kaelen hesitated for a long moment, his gaze unwavering, but the threat of the bubbling potion seemed to convince him.
Reluctantly, he removed his amored tunic, then his inner shirt with a sigh that showed his annoyance with the entire situation.
"Damn," Lyra gasped, her eyes raking over his impressive physique as she let out a long and low whilstle.
"The palace really does put their heirs through core workouts. Look at those abs. Art. This is pure art."
I nearly choked, in sheer disbelief. "Are you flirting with him?!" I demanded, my own annoyance now reaching new heights.
I mean, seriously? This was not the time or place. We were on the run, his life was cursed, and mine was a constant System quest.
"Nope," Lyra said breezily, still not taking her eyes off Kaelen's torso. "Just appreciating art. There's a difference, Z. You should try it sometime. It might calm that little rage goblin living in your soul."
Then without warning she pressed her palm directly to Kaelen's bare chest, right over his heart, where a faint, pulsing shadow coiled under his skin.
A visible shudder shook Kaelen making him flinch a bit, but he didn't pull away. He just stared at her, his lips pressed into a tight line.
Lyra's eyes, widened. "Yikes," she muttered, pulling her hand back with a wince. "Your curse is throwing a full-blown tantrum, Kaelen. What'd you do, hug a grenade?"
Kaelen turned to look at me. "She happened," Kaelen muttered, his gaze filled with accusation.
"Year, thats right," I said, shrugging it off. Although for a moment I felt a pang of guilt.
It was my fault, wasn't it? My fault for making him lose control, for triggering the Echoes, for forcing him to use his curse to protect me. Still, he did try to hunt me.
So I guess we're even-ish?
Lyra didn't wait for further explanation. She slapped a thick, green poultice onto Kaelen's chest. It hissed ominously, making a little smoke.
I backed up a bit, half expecting his chest to melt off. He grit his teeth, but stood firm.
"Joy Farms," she said casually, as if she were discussing the weather or her favorite ingredient for brewing portions.
I blinked, genuinely confused. "The… happy place where rainbows are born? The one from the children's stories, where all the little elves dance with butterflies?"
"No Z, just the opposite," Lyra corrected, all too seriously.
"Temple-run prisons where they drain prisoners' emotions to fuel Eternal Contracts. Happiness, grief, rage—all bottled and sold. You want a vial of pure toddler birthday-party joy? Only 50 gold coins! A single tear of righteous fury from a wronged hero? Priceless, but I can get you a discount."
Kaelen stiffened, his entire body going rigid, his eyes became wide with a horrifying realization. "That's… not possible. The Temple wouldn't… that's an abomination!"
Lyra rolled her eyes dismissively, as she grabbed a fresh fruit basket from a top shelf. "Says the guy with a shadow demon conveniently living in his ribcage. They stick a Contract in your neck, hook you up to a machine, and suck the very essence of your feelings out."
Throwing an apple to me and shoving the basket to Kaelen who took one.
"You'd know that if you ever left your ivory tower, Your Broodiness. Some of us live in the real world, where the Temple is as corrupt as they come."
Kaelen's shadow betrayed his emotional turmoil, flickering ominously around him even though it had been quietened by the poultrice.
The idea of emotions being literally harvested was unimaginable, even for me, and I'd seen some pretty messed-up stuff.
Still eating my apple I quickly stepped between them, cutting off whatever enraged retort Kaelen was about to unleash.
"Cool story, Lyra! Super fascinating! Let's never speak of it again. So, about that Bond energy stench you mentioned earlier—is there a cure for that?"
A sudden crash echoed from outside the farmhouse. At first the shouts were muffled, then it became louder and more distinct. The unmistakable thrum of crossbows reloading. My blood ran cold. This was not good. This was very, very not good.
Lyra sighed, a long, put-upon sound, as if her afternoon tea had just been interrupted. "Ah. They're here."
"Who's here?" I asked, even though I already knew the answer. My stomach churned. It could only be one group. The Temple. They were relentless.
"Temple enforcers," Lyra replied, already moving towards a crack in the boarded-up window, peering outside.
"They tracked your Bond's sparkly aura, Z. Told you guys it was cloying. You two are practically a beacon of 'wanted criminals hiding in a dilapidated farm.' They're not subtle."
Then she tossed me a rusty, surprisingly sharp dagger. "Try not to die. This floor's hell to clean."
Kaelen had already grabbed his sword swiftly, despite his earlier weakness. His shadow surged around him like a gathering dark storm, no longer contained by the poultice. His face was a mask of determination. "How many do you see?" he demanded, his voice a low growl.
Lyra peered again through the crack, then straightened with a smirk on her face. "Enough to make a very detailed ballad about our tragic deaths, I'd say. Maybe an epic poem. They really went all out for you, Z."
Just then, the Glitch Pendant around my neck pulsed erratically. The system, pushing through the pendant's interference with a furious burst of energy, flashed a new alert directly between us.
____
[System Alert: Mute Disabled.]
[New Quest: Survive the Ambush.]
[Reward: Not Being Dead.]
____
I glared at the glowing text, feeling a fresh wave of irritation. "Worst. RPG. Ever," I muttered, just loud enough for Kaelen to hear.
He looked at me, and for a moment I could swear I saw something like amusement in his red eyes.
"Stay behind me," he ordered, his voice firm, a prince giving a command.
"In your dreams, Shadow McDrama," I shot back, gripping the rusty dagger tighter. "I'm not hiding behind you. This is my fight too."
Lyra snorted, a laugh bubbling up from her. "You two are so adorable. Now go be cannon fodder. I'll prep the escape route. Unless you actually want to be the god's chew toys."
"Escape route?" I asked, a spark of hope igniting in my chest. Finally, a plan.
She gestured casually to a dark, ominous-looking hole in the floorboards. "It's a well."
My jaw dropped. "A well?!"
"Think of it as a water-based escape route," she corrected cheerfully, then shoved us both unceremoniously towards the creaking front door.
"Now go! Die heroically or whatever! I'll meet you… eventually!"