Chapter 32 – Lightning Strike

Chapter 32 – Lightning Strike

Liria stood very still.

The underground chamber felt smaller than before, as if the walls had crept inward while she was not looking. Damp stone pressed in from all sides, and the air carried the faint scent of iron and rot, threaded through with something colder, something wrong.

She processed what she had seen.

First came horror. It rose up from her chest like a physical force, tightening her throat, hollowing her lungs, and her fingers curled slowly at her sides.

Then came fury, not erupting, but gathering. A steady, rising heat that filled every vein, every breath, until it felt as though her body could no longer contain it. The temperature around her seemed to spike, and the dim light flickered faintly, reacting to her presence. Hot tears gathered at the corners of her eyes, blurring her vision.

Images from the day surged forward, sharp and vivid.

Elysium, radiant beneath a gentle sky. Endless fields of flowers swaying in soft winds, their fragrance light and sweet. Streets alive with music and laughter, children weaving between stalls, lovers walking hand in hand, families gathered beneath lantern glow.

Life. Warmth. Joy.

And beneath it all, this.

Her jaw tightened. Who would do this? Why would anyone do this? How dare they? The fury sharpened, crystallized into something cold and precise.

They must pay. They will pay. She would not rest until—

“Big Sister?”

Seris’s voice broke through everything like a fragile bell. Liria blinked, and the underground chamber rushed back into focus: the oppressive weight, the dim light, the faint echo of dripping water.

Seris stood close, small hands clenched against her dress, her blue eyes trembling with worry.

“What did you find?” she asked softly. “You’re scaring Seris right now, Big Sis.”

Liria exhaled slowly, carefully. The heat receded, drawn inward and locked away behind iron control, and the air steadied.

She reached out and gently patted Seris’s golden hair, soft beneath her fingers, grounding in a way nothing else was.

“I’m fine now, Seris,” she said, her voice calm again. “Thank you for stopping me.”

Seris studied her for a moment longer, as if weighing the truth of those words, then relaxed slightly. At the same time, a familiar presence brushed against Liria’s mind.

Her siblings.

Liria. Aethon’s voice resonated clearly, carrying the weight of the others with it. We all felt that. What happened?

Their presence wrapped around her like a shield, steady and unyielding.

She did not hesitate this time. She opened her thoughts and shared everything: the hidden formation, the pattern, the implications, the intent. The response was immediate. Fury surged back through the link, echoing her own, cold, controlled, but no less absolute. She had not overreacted.

What do you plan to do next? Vaelir asked, his tone grim, already anticipating violence. You can count on us.

Liria hesitated. The impulse to accept was there, strong and comforting, but another thought followed close behind. They were busy. Important. Each of them carried responsibilities that affected entire regions, entire peoples. Was it right to call them for this? Was she—

I can already tell what you’re thinking. Ilyrien’s voice cut in sharply. Stop that. Or we will all be very angry.

I concur, Thalanor added, calm but firm.

A flicker of embarrassment passed through Liria. She relented, lowering her gaze slightly, even though they could not see it. There was no arguing with them when they sounded like that, and quietly she admitted to herself that it felt reassuring.

She turned her focus back to the problem.

The chamber around her receded from focus as she turned her attention inward, mapping the layout of the undercity, the position of this node, the pattern it implied. All of it aligned with quiet, deliberate precision.

There’s another inverted pentagram, Liria said through the link. This one spans the entire city. I’m standing at one of its outer nodes.

A brief silence followed as the others processed it.

…Of course, Vaelir muttered. His tone carried a familiar edge of irritation. Subtlety was never their strength.

Four nodes remain, then, Ilyrien said. Her voice was calm, already moving ahead. Likely equidistant.

They’re concealed behind a network of anti-divination wards, Liria added. I can force my way through to pinpoint their exact positions, but it will trigger the alarm system. The enemy will know.

Then we proceed carefully, Vaelir said at once. I can have teams sweeping the undercity within minutes. We isolate each site, secure the victims—

It will take too long, Liria said.

Vaelir paused.

She did not soften the interruption.

Hours, she continued. Even if everything goes perfectly. And it won’t. Not with this many variables.

Aethon spoke next, measured and steady. You believe they will notice during that time.

Yes.

They will adapt, Thalanor said.

Or accelerate, Liria replied. Or move the victims. Or trigger something we haven’t seen yet.

A quiet tension settled over the link.

Seralyth’s voice slipped in, gentle but clear. Then we cannot give them time to react.

Liria’s gaze sharpened.

No, she said. We don’t.

She let the shape of her thoughts form fully before sharing them.

I’ll breach the concealment and lock onto the remaining nodes. Then we teleport in and end this before they understand what’s happening.

There was a brief, weighted pause.

High risk, Ilyrien noted. If there is a failsafe—

A kill switch, Vaelir finished. His tone had gone sharper. If they set their ritual to activate the moment the alarm goes off—

They wouldn’t, Liria said. They’re not ready yet, or the ritual would have already begun. Something is still incomplete.

She closed her eyes, replaying what she had seen.

And this is Elysium, Liria continued. There are too many high-level visitors during the festival. Their defenses have to account for interference. They wouldn’t design a system that could be set off prematurely by the wrong person poking around.

Vaelir let out a slow breath. …And if you’re wrong?

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Liria did not hesitate.

One node is already gone, she said. The full ritual cannot complete. At worst, we deal with fragments.

Aethon’s presence settled, firm and decisive. Then speed is the correct answer.

Ilyrien followed a moment later. Agreed.

Vaelir clicked his tongue, but there was no real resistance left.

Reckless, he said. Then, after a beat, but efficient. I like it.

Seralyth’s warmth brushed lightly through the link. We will make it work.

Liria exhaled once, steadying herself. Then we strike together.

Agreement settled through the link, quiet and immediate. No further words were needed. One by one, their presences withdrew, not vanishing entirely, but receding just enough to give her space.

Liria let the connection dim and opened her eyes. The underground chamber returned in full: damp air, flickering light, the faint sound of breathing that did not belong to her.

She turned back to her anxious audience waiting nearby. Every eye was on her, tense and uneasy, searching for answers.

“Great Lady,” Jin Wu said carefully, his voice measured, “have we offended you in some way?”

Joren and his companions stood close together, their unease plain. Tomas and the others who had been rescued lingered behind them, still shaken but alert.

“Lady Liria,” Tomas asked, quieter, “we all felt your anger. What did you find?”

Liria let a brief silence stretch before answering, letting the weight of the moment settle over them.

“This situation is far more serious than you realize,” she said at last, her voice carrying no heat now, only firm authority. “My knights will arrive shortly to escort you to safety. Please wait there until everything is resolved.”

Jin Wu opened his mouth, then stopped. Something in her expression made further questions feel inappropriate, and he bowed instead.

The others followed, a quiet ripple of motion as unease gave way to wary obedience.

For a brief moment, nothing happened. The chamber held its breath. The air felt heavy, expectant, as if the space itself were waiting. Then light began to gather.

A swirl of pale radiance formed in the air, spiraling outward into a luminous portal. Cool wind rushed from its depths, carrying the faint scent of forests and distant rain, and Ilyrien stepped through.

Behind her came elven wardens, their armor gleaming softly in the dim light, their expressions composed and severe. They moved with quiet efficiency, fanning out through the chamber with practiced coordination.