The mist tore between the trees like scraps of old fabric. For a moment, it even pulled back, as if listening.

Seyra Lux Shademist pushed forward, her face tense, lips tightly pressed. Each step sank into the moss, accompanied by a quiet, angry bubbling in her throat. She knew she mustn’t speak — her aura was restless today, and the light clung beneath her skin like a poorly tamed spark.

A soft chirp sounded from the branch above. Lira.

Seyra looked up. The Saeria perched on the branch like a small piece of night sky, feathers dark and glossy as obsidian, eyes metallic and sharp. She tilted her head and sent a telepathic imprint toward Seyra:

“light… almost outside… maybe…”

“I know,” Seyra whispered. “Stay close.”

Lira swooped down and settled on her shoulder. The aura dimmed instantly, as if someone had drawn a curtain.

“better… almost good…” came from Lira.

Seyra nodded. “Thanks.”

Something flickered nearby. A small shadow, fast as an arrow.

Hr’kall.

It leapt onto a tree trunk, froze, ears taut, eyes wide. Then came its typical hrk-hrk-hrk, and the creature vanished into the mist so quickly that only a ripple of vapor remained.

Lira sent another hint: “uneasy… little… almost warning…”

“Yeah,” Seyra muttered. “I got that.”

The forest around them thickened. The mist grew heavier, denser, as if trying to hide something. And between the trees, the house of Verdana Lux Datlesk finally appeared — quiet, elegant, rising from the fog like a shadow that had decided to have windows.

A small symbol gleamed on the house’s gable, barely visible, yet far too familiar to Seyra.

Her stomach tightened. The Ring of the Mist Bell was inside. And she needed it.

Not for herself. For someone else.

Seyra drew a breath. Adrenaline surged.

Blink.

“Not now,” she growled.

Lira trembled slightly on her shoulder and sent a calming, though hesitant imprint: “you manage… almost sure…”

Seyra smiled. “That’s exactly the certainty I needed.”

And then she headed toward the house.