Chapter 28: Fractured Loyalties

Lucien's sword rested at his side, but his knuckles were pale, his grip unyielding. His chest rose and fell in slow, deliberate breaths, though his jaw stayed clenched, like he was biting back words he couldn't afford to let slip. He hadn't even wiped the blood from his cheek—if it was his.

Charlotte leaned against the hilt of her sword, her shoulders heaving as she struggled to stand upright. The lines on her face deepened with each breath, and her injured arm hung limp at her side, the sleeve soaked with sweat and faint streaks of red.

Mira didn't look at them. Her entire body was hunched over me, her forehead pressed against mine, her tears soaking into my hair. I couldn't see her face, but I could feel her trembling—how her arms shook as they cradled me, how her shallow breaths came uneven and broken.

"I'm sorry," she whispered again, the words so faint they barely reached me.

I didn't understand why she was apologizing, but I could feel the weight of it pressing down on her, crushing her under something she couldn't carry alone.

The system flickered to life in my mind.

[The anchor fractures further. The vessel awaits the final blade.]

The words lingered, sharp and heavy, and for a moment, it felt like the air in the room had thickened again. I let out a weak, pitiful cry, my chest aching as the crack on my arm pulsed faintly, sending warmth through my tiny frame.

Mira jerked back slightly, her hands trembling as she pressed one to my forehead. "He's burning up again," she choked out, her voice tight and raw.

Lucien turned, his expression unreadable as his eyes flicked toward me. His lips pressed into a thin line, and he adjusted his grip on his sword, his shoulders tightening as if bracing for whatever came next.

"We need to keep moving," he said, his voice low but firm.

"Moving where?" Mira's head snapped up, her voice sharp and tinged with hysteria. "To another fight? To another room that wants to kill him? Look at him, Lucien! He can't take this anymore!"

Lucien didn't flinch. His eyes stayed on her, steady but cold, as he said, "If we stay here, the estate will finish what it started. You know that as well as I do."

Mira let out a sound that was half sob, half laugh, her grip on me tightening as she shook her head. "You don't care, do you? As long as this place survives, you'll let him…" Her voice cracked, and she couldn't finish the thought.

Charlotte's voice cut through the tension, quiet but strained. "Mira."

Mira's head whipped around to face her, her eyes wide and wet with fury. "Don't. Don't you dare—"

"There's something," Charlotte interrupted, her gaze fixed on the far corner of the room. Her voice trembled slightly, but she forced the words out. "Another page."

---

The faint, distorted light from the shattered mirrors cast jagged patterns across the ground as Charlotte limped toward a small, broken pedestal at the edge of the chamber. Something thin and delicate rested atop it, fluttering faintly despite the lack of air.

Lucien followed her, his movements slow but deliberate, his sword still drawn. His eyes scanned the room, his posture tense as if he expected the walls to shift or the shadows to move.

Mira stayed where she was, her arms wrapped tightly around me, her breath hitching every few seconds as she rocked back and forth on her knees.

Charlotte reached the pedestal and carefully picked up the page. The edges were worn and frayed, and the ink was faint in some places, but the words were still legible. Her eyes narrowed as she read, her lips moving silently with the text.

"What does it say?" Lucien asked, his voice low.

Charlotte's grip on the page tightened slightly, and her gaze flicked toward him before returning to the words. "It's from Lilia's diary," she murmured. "She… she realized something about the Trail. About severing it."

Lucien's brow furrowed, and he stepped closer. "Go on."

Charlotte hesitated, her fingers trembling slightly as she traced the lines of faded script. "She says… the Trail isn't just tethered to the anchor. It's bound to pain. To sacrifice. Without it, the connection can't hold."

Lucien's expression darkened. "And what does that mean for the anchor?"

Charlotte's lips pressed into a thin line. She didn't answer right away, but when she did, her voice was barely above a whisper.

"It has to bleed."

---

Mira let out a sharp, shuddering breath, her body freezing as the words registered. Slowly, she lifted her head, her eyes red and swollen as they darted between Charlotte and Lucien.

"No," she said, her voice shaking.

Lucien turned to face her fully, his jaw tight. "Mira—"

"No!" she screamed, her voice echoing through the chamber. She clutched me tighter, her tears falling faster as she shook her head violently. "You're not doing this. You're not taking him. Do you hear me? I won't let you!"

Lucien didn't flinch. He didn't raise his voice. He simply looked at her, his expression grim and unyielding. "If we don't act, the estate will kill him anyway. At least this way, there's a chance."

"A chance?" Mira's voice broke, her fury crumbling into desperation. "A chance for what? For him to suffer? To bleed? You're willing to kill him to save this place!"

Lucien's jaw tightened further, his knuckles whitening around the hilt of his sword. "I'm trying to save him," he said, his voice low but sharp. "This isn't about the estate. This is about keeping him alive long enough to fix this."

Mira let out a choked laugh, her tears streaming down her face as she glared at him. "You don't care about him. You've never cared about him. He's just another tool to you, just like—"

"Enough," Lucien snapped, his voice cutting through her words like a blade. His eyes burned with something raw, something close to anger but laced with guilt. "You think this is easy for me? You think I want this? If there was another way—"

"There's always another way!" Mira interrupted, her voice rising again. "You just don't want to see it because it's easier to—"

"The estate's not giving us another way!" Lucien shouted, his voice echoing through the chamber. For the first time, his mask cracked, and his frustration boiled over. "It's telling us what has to be done. And if you can't see that, then you're the one who doesn't care!"

Mira froze, her breath hitching as his words hit her like a physical blow. For a moment, the room was silent, save for the faint hum of the Trail and my weak, trembling cries.

---

The system flickered again, its text sharp and cold:

[The anchor must bleed for the vessel to mend.]

The words lingered in my mind, heavy and unrelenting, as the crack on my arm pulsed faintly, spreading another inch toward my chest.

Mira's body shook as she stared at Lucien, her tears falling silently now. She looked down at me, her fingers brushing over the faint, glowing veins on my skin. "I won't let them take you," she whispered, her voice breaking. "I won't."

Lucien didn't say anything. He just turned away, his grip on his sword tightening as he faced the passage ahead.

"We're running out of time," he said quietly.

And, despite everything, Mira followed.