Chapter 60: The Haunting Voice

The silence that followed the disappearance of the music was thick and unsettling. Lysandra couldn't shake the sensation that the forest was alive, watching and waiting. The pendant in her satchel felt warm against her side, as though it pulsed with its own heartbeat, in tune with the crystal's soft glow.

Zephyrion's eyes scanned the forest, his expression tense. "We need to move quickly," he said, his voice low. "The magic here is old… and it doesn't feel welcoming."

Lysandra nodded, gripping the crystal tightly. "We'll keep going," she agreed, though her gaze drifted back to the stone altar, a strange feeling of loss tugging at her heart.

As they moved forward, the path grew narrower, and the trees seemed to close in around them, their branches stretching toward the trio like gnarled fingers. The moonlight barely reached the forest floor, casting long shadows that twisted with every step they took. Lysandra kept a steady pace, trying to ignore the ominous feeling that had settled over her.

Just when it seemed like the forest was about to swallow them whole, a voice, faint and hollow, drifted through the air. "Lysandra…" It was a whisper, echoing softly, almost indistinguishable from the rustling leaves.

She froze, her breath catching in her throat. "Did you hear that?" she asked, her voice barely audible.

Zephyrion and Althara exchanged a glance. "Hear what?" Althara asked, her hand tightening around her staff.

The voice came again, a little louder this time. "Lysandra…" It sounded like a plea, filled with despair and longing. The hairs on the back of her neck stood up as she turned toward the direction it seemed to come from.

"It's calling my name," she whispered, taking a step back.

Zephyrion placed a hand on her shoulder. "Don't listen to it," he said firmly. "The forest is full of tricks. It could be a spirit trying to lure you away."

But there was something in the voice that felt familiar, like a memory she couldn't quite place. "It doesn't feel like a threat," Lysandra insisted, though doubt tugged at her. "It sounds… sad."

Althara's gaze grew serious. "Sad or not, we can't risk it," she said. "We need to stay focused on finding the way out of here."

Lysandra hesitated, torn between heeding their warnings and following the voice that seemed to call to a part of her she didn't fully understand. The pendant in her satchel grew warmer, and she could feel the magic stirring within it, as though responding to the voice.

Without thinking, she took a step toward the source of the sound, her curiosity overpowering her caution. "Just one moment," she said, glancing back at Zephyrion and Althara. "I need to see what it is."

Zephyrion's jaw clenched, but he nodded reluctantly. "Be careful," he warned, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword.

Lysandra moved carefully through the dense undergrowth, the crystal's light illuminating a narrow path. As she walked, the voice grew louder, clearer, until she emerged into a small glade, where the moonlight fell upon a figure kneeling by a moss-covered stone.

It was a woman, her form faint and translucent, like mist caught in the light. She was weeping, her shoulders trembling with silent sobs. "Lysandra…" the woman whispered, her voice tinged with sorrow.

Lysandra's heart ached at the sight, a strange sense of familiarity washing over her. "Who… who are you?" she asked, taking a cautious step forward.

The woman looked up, her eyes filled with tears. "I am… a memory," she said softly, her voice echoing like a distant song. "Bound to this place by magic… and regret."

Lysandra's breath hitched as she met the woman's gaze. There was something in those eyes that reminded her of herself, a resemblance she couldn't ignore. "Why are you calling my name?" she asked, her voice trembling.

The woman's form flickered, and her expression grew sadder. "You carry the same magic that binds me here," she said, her voice fading slightly. "It is a magic that can both save and destroy… and you must choose how you will use it."

Lysandra's hand tightened around the crystal, uncertainty coursing through her. "What am I supposed to do?" she asked desperately.

The woman's lips curved into a faint, bittersweet smile. "Find the truth," she whispered, her form dissolving into the moonlight. "And you will find me."

To be continued…