Chapter 81: An Unexpected Visitor

The early morning mist clung to the trees as Lysandra stirred from sleep. The first light of dawn peeked through the forest canopy, casting a pale glow over the camp. She sat up slowly, her muscles aching from the previous day's training, and glanced around to find Zephyrion already awake, standing at the edge of the clearing with his back to her.

He was staring into the forest, his body tense and alert. Lysandra could sense a shift in the air—a subtle tension that hadn't been there before. She stood and walked over to him, her curiosity piqued by the serious look on his face.

"Is something wrong?" she asked quietly.

Zephyrion's gaze did not waver from the treeline. "We're not alone."

The words sent a chill down her spine. She reached for the dagger at her belt, her fingers curling around the hilt as she scanned the forest. The stillness of the morning now seemed ominous, as if the entire world was holding its breath.

Then, without warning, a figure emerged from the shadows, walking toward them with a calm, deliberate stride. Lysandra's grip tightened on her weapon, but as the figure stepped into the light, she hesitated, recognizing the familiar face.

It was a woman, draped in a dark cloak that flowed around her like liquid night. Her long hair was a deep ebony, cascading over her shoulders, and her eyes glinted with an unsettling mixture of amusement and malice. Lysandra knew her all too well—Elara, the sorceress who had once tried to bend the darkness to her will.

"What are you doing here?" Lysandra demanded, taking a step forward.

Elara's lips curved into a slow, taunting smile. "Is that any way to greet an old acquaintance?" she asked, her tone dripping with mockery. "I've come to talk, not to fight."

Zephyrion's voice was cold as he spoke. "Your presence is not welcome here. State your purpose, or leave."

The sorceress glanced at him, then turned her attention back to Lysandra, ignoring his warning. "I came to see how the little light-bearer is doing," she said with a hint of sarcasm. "You're progressing nicely, but you're not nearly strong enough yet. The darkness inside you is still too wild, too untamed."

Lysandra felt a flare of anger at the woman's condescending tone. "What do you know about it?" she snapped. "You don't understand what I'm going through."

Elara's smile widened. "On the contrary, I know exactly what you're going through," she replied, her voice lowering to a near whisper. "You're fighting a losing battle, Lysandra. The darkness isn't something you can control. It will consume you eventually."

Before Lysandra could respond, Zephyrion stepped between them, his expression darkening. "Enough," he said sternly. "Leave, or I'll make you."

Elara's gaze flickered over him with a mixture of disdain and amusement. "Very well," she said, backing away slowly. "But remember my words, little light-bearer. The darkness is patient. It will wait… and when you falter, it will be there to claim you."

With that, she disappeared into the forest, her figure melting into the shadows as quickly as she had appeared.

Lysandra stood there, her heart pounding in her chest. She couldn't deny that Elara's words had struck a nerve. The darkness within her was always there, lurking, and she could feel its pull, even now. But she refused to let it take her.

"We'll have to stay vigilant," Zephyrion said, his tone low. "She's not gone for good. Not yet."

Lysandra nodded, steeling herself. "I won't let her get to me. I'm stronger than that."

Zephyrion placed a hand on her shoulder, a silent promise of support. "Good. Then let's make sure she knows it."

To be continued…