The first thing I noticed about her was that she wasn't afraid of me.
That alone made her dangerous.
I found her—or perhaps, she allowed herself to be found—at the edge of an arcane lake hidden deep within the Redveil Wood. The water shimmered with unnatural colors, rippling with magic too old to name. I had come to observe its power, to study it, maybe even bend it to my will.
But she was already there. Sitting on a boulder, legs crossed, eyes closed. Meditating. Or pretending to.
Her voice cut through the silence before I could speak.
"You walk with the dead," she said, not looking up. "But your soul still flinches when it hears them whisper."
I paused.
Most people turned to ash in my presence. She hadn't even opened her eyes.
"And you sit beside an ancient ley pool as if it's a pond in your backyard," I replied, stepping closer. "What does that say about your soul?"
She smiled then, slow and sure.
"You're sharper than they said." She opened her eyes—violet, aglow with faint fire. "But not sharp enough."
I summoned the raven with a flick of my wrist. It cawed once and landed on my shoulder, green fire in its hollow sockets.
The woman rose to her feet.
"I'm Lira," she said, brushing her hands together. "Sorceress of the Seventh Ring. Scholar of forgotten magic. Enemy to most. Teacher to none."
"Then why are you talking to me?"
"Because you're the exception."
The wind stirred between us. The ley pool pulsed once, sensing the tension—or perhaps feeding on it.
"You knew I'd come here," I said slowly. "You were waiting."
"I've been following you since you left the fortress," she said. "You left a scar on the air. On reality. Necromancy that potent doesn't go unnoticed."
I studied her now—robes of deep crimson laced with gold, a staff made of twisted arcwood, a satchel of tomes slung across her back. She was powerful. Not on my level… but close enough to intrigue me.
"And what is it you want, Lira of the Seventh Ring?"
She stepped forward until we were almost touching.
"To make sure you don't become a monster," she said softly.
I laughed. "A bit late for that."
Her expression didn't change. "No. It's not."
Something in her voice stopped me cold.
I had faced death, raised it, bound it to my will.
But she looked at me like she knew me. Not the version I showed the world—but the version I was becoming.
She stepped back. "Come with me. You have power. But no direction. You're fighting shadows, Aric. If you keep going like this, you'll lose yourself in them."
"And what if I already have?"
"Then I'll help pull you out."
A flicker of anger rose in my chest. I didn't need saving. I didn't need anyone. But…
A part of me—small, fragile, buried beneath layers of darkness—wanted to believe her.
She turned and began walking away, toward a path I hadn't seen before. Her voice floated back to me.
"I'll teach you what you don't know. I'll show you what you can't yet see."
She paused.
"But if you follow me, you follow my rules. Cross them, and I'll end you."
I watched her vanish into the trees.
The raven shifted on my shoulder.
I hesitated… for the first time in a long time.
Then I followed her.
---