The white light of Riku's spell faded. The corrosive black mist was gone, leaving behind a scene of devastation. The air was thick with the smell of ozone and burnt earth. A half-dozen mercenaries lay on the ground, their armor melted and their skin horribly scarred, their moans the only sound in the sudden, unnatural quiet.

Riku stood in the middle of the road, his chest heaving. The last vestiges of the Grand Maximus's purple light had vanished from his eyes, but a cold fury remained. He stared at the spot where the shadow man had disappeared, his hands clenched into tight fists. He had saved the caravan. But Zella and her grandparents were still dead. The victory felt like ash in his mouth.

Arch-Mage Lyra lowered the Storm Core. The oppressive pressure in the air vanished. She walked towards Riku, her indigo robes making no sound on the dusty ground. She stopped a few paces from him, her ageless, stormy eyes assessing him with a new, sharp curiosity.

"You are a paradox," she said, her voice a low, calm murmur that cut through the chaos. "You wield the Light with the purity of a high priest. And yet... that power I felt from you just now... it was not of the Light."

Riku did not answer. He just stared at the empty road, his jaw tight with a grief and rage he could not voice.

Lyra saw the look on his face. She saw the barely controlled fury coiling in his muscles. Her expression softened, just slightly. It was the look of a master observing a talented but reckless student.

"A word of advice, southern mage," she said, her voice quiet. "Rage is a powerful weapon. But it is a dull one. It makes you predictable. It makes you sloppy. In a land like Eldoria, it will get you killed."

Before Riku could respond, the door to his wagon creaked open. Aurelia stepped out, her face pale but her expression resolute. She walked to the center of the clearing and gave the Arch-Mage a deep, formal bow.

"Arch-Mage Lyra," Aurelia said, her voice clear and respectful. "It is an honor."

Lyra's gaze passed over the plainly dressed, brown-haired girl. She was about to dismiss her, but then she paused. Her stormy eyes narrowed. She looked closer, not at Aurelia's face, but at her presence, her aura. A flicker of confusion crossed her features.

"Your face is wrong," Lyra stated, her voice a low murmur. "Your hair is wrong. But your soul... it carries the scent of the Silverwood." She looked directly into Aurelia's disguised hazel eyes. "Lady Aurelia," she said, her voice a soft sigh. "So the rumors were true. You are alive."

Aurelia stared at her, stunned that she had been recognized through Riku's powerful illusion.

Lyra looked at the ruined caravan and the injured men. "It seems the games your rival houses are playing have grown more... direct."

A spark of hope ignited in Aurelia's eyes. "Then you know? You know I am innocent?"

"I know that the politics of the Great Houses are a tiresome distraction," Lyra replied, her voice flat and dismissive. "I know that you are a pawn in a much larger game."

"Will you help me?" Aurelia pleaded. "If you were to speak on my behalf..."

"No," Lyra cut her off, her voice cold and absolute. "I will not."

Aurelia stared at her, her hope shattering.

"The affairs of nobles are of no concern to me," Lyra stated. "My duty is to the magical security of this kingdom, not to the squabbles of children. You have found yourself in a dangerous situation, Lady Aurelia. You must find your own way out of it."

She turned her back on the heartbroken noble girl. She looked at Riku one last time.

"I have cast a wide-area illusion," she said. "The survivors of this caravan will remember a battle. They will remember a creature of shadow. And they will remember that the Arch-Mage of Eldoria appeared and drove it away."

Riku stared at her, understanding. She was protecting him. She was erasing his involvement from the official record.

"They will not remember you," Lyra continued. "They will not remember your companions. As far as this kingdom is concerned, you were never here."

She began to walk away, the wind swirling around her. "Be careful, southern mage," she said, her voice a final, parting warning. "Eldoria is not a kind land. It is not a place for the weak of heart."

With a final, brilliant flash of lightning and a deafening crack of thunder, she was gone.

Riku and his friends were left standing in the middle of the ruined caravan. The shadow man was gone. The Arch-Mage was gone.

They were alone again, surrounded by the fresh, painful evidence of the dangers that lay ahead.

The wind howled through the clearing. It was a mournful sound that seemed to echo the silent grief of the survivors.

The caravan master was the first to stir. He pushed himself up, his face a mask of confusion. He looked at the ruined wagons. He saw his injured men being tended to by a quiet, dark-haired woman. He saw the scorched earth.

"What... what happened?" he mumbled, his memory a fuzzy, indistinct blur.

Then, his eyes widened. The illusion Lyra had cast settled into his mind, rewriting his memories. "The Arch-Mage," he breathed, his voice filled with awe. "The Whispering Witch herself. She came. She saved us."

A wave of relief and celebration washed over the dazed survivors. They had been attacked by a monster from the Void. They had been on the brink of death. And they had been saved by the most powerful mage in the kingdom.

They cheered. Their voices were weak and shaky, but they were filled with a profound gratitude.

The caravan master, his sense of duty returning, quickly took charge. "Alright, you lot!" he boomed. "The danger is passed! Let's see to the injured and bury our dead! We leave at once!"

The survivors moved with a grim purpose. They began to dig shallow graves in the hard, rocky soil for their fallen comrades.

One of the teamsters, his face streaked with tears, walked over to the three heads that still lay in the dust. He picked up Zella's head, his expression one of pity for the unknown, unfortunate girl.

"Wait."

Riku's voice was quiet, but it cut through the air like a shard of ice.

The teamster froze. He turned to look at Riku.

"Put them down," Riku said, his voice a low, dangerous command. "They are not yours to bury."

The man, intimidated by the cold fury in Riku's eyes, quickly did as he was told. He placed the head gently back on the ground and backed away.

Riku walked over to the three heads. He knelt. He looked at the faces of the kind, funny family who had welcomed him into their home. He saw Zella's tear-streaked face. He saw Gror's look of terror. He saw Hestra's final, silent scream.

A wave of profound, suffocating grief washed over him. This was his fault.

A blue panel shimmered in his mind.

[Resurrection of deceased individuals is possible through divine intervention.]

Riku stared at the words. Hope, fierce and desperate, sparked in his chest. System! Can I bring them back? Can I summon the Maidens?

[Negative,] the System replied. [Your current Goodwill Point balance is insufficient to request a high-tier divine intervention. Furthermore, such an act in this hostile territory would draw unwanted attention.]

The spark of hope died.

[However,] the System continued, [the Host possesses a private, secure dimension. It is a world under your complete control. A divine summoning within that realm, at a later time, may be possible.]

Riku looked down at the three heads. It was not a promise. But it was a chance.

He carefully gathered them, wrapping them in a clean cloth from his pack. He would not leave them here, in this cold, unforgiving land.

He walked away from the caravan. He found a secluded spot, hidden by the trees. He held the wrapped bundle to his chest.

Enter.

With a flash of light, he was gone. He appeared in his own private world, far from the manor, in a quiet, untouched corner of the endless green field.

He knelt. He used his own hands to dig a grave in the soft, perfect earth. He gently placed the bundle inside. He covered it with soil.

He had brought them home.

He stood there for a long, silent moment. The grief, the rage, the guilt... it all churned inside him.

He finally looked up at the perfect, artificial sky of his own making.

"This was your fault," he whispered, his voice a low, trembling snarl.

He was speaking to the System.

"You told me to give them the Eye," he said, his voice rising with a furious, accusatory rage. "You told me it would 'open doors'. It did. It opened the door for that monster to find them. To slaughter them."

A blue panel shimmered into existence before him.

[The trade was a calculated risk,] the System replied, its tone as flat and clinical as ever. [The potential benefits were deemed to outweigh the potential dangers.]

"Benefits?" Riku roared, his voice cracking. "What possible benefit could be worth their lives?"

[The Eye of Cauli is a key,] the System explained. [Its re-emergence was a necessary catalyst. It needed to be out in the world. It needed to be seen. It needed to awaken the other half.]

Riku stared at the words. "Awaken the other half? What are you talking about?"

[Certain events must be set in motion,] the System stated, its words maddeningly vague. [Certain players must be brought onto the board. The trade was the most efficient way to achieve this.]

"So that's all they were to you?" Riku whispered, a cold, dawning horror washing over him. "Pawns? Sacrifices to move your great game forward?"

The System did not answer.

Riku stared at the silent blue panel. The cold, clinical logic of it was more monstrous than the shadow man's casual cruelty.

"Tell me," Riku demanded, his voice a low, dangerous growl. "Tell me everything. What is this 'game' you are playing? What is the Eye of Cauli, really? And who is the monster you just awakened?"

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