Chapter 29: The Estate’s Core Shifts

The air grew heavier the deeper we moved into the estate. Every breath felt thick, laced with the metallic tang of the Crimson Trail that clung to everything—the walls, the floor, even the air itself. Mira's steps were shaky, her boots scraping against the ground as she adjusted me in her arms for the hundredth time. Her tears had stopped, but her face was pale, her lips pressed into a trembling line.

"Lucien," she whispered, her voice hoarse. "Where are you taking us?"

Lucien didn't answer. He walked a few paces ahead, his sword still drawn, the faint light of the veins reflecting off its blade. His shoulders were rigid, his movements deliberate and unyielding.

Charlotte lagged slightly behind, her steps uneven as she leaned on her sword for support. She hadn't said much since they'd left the chamber. Her face was pale, her brow furrowed in pain and exhaustion, but her eyes stayed sharp, scanning the dim corridor for threats.

Mira's voice rose, breaking the uneasy silence. "Lucien, where are we going?"

Lucien finally stopped, his back still turned to her. His head tilted slightly as if considering his words, but when he spoke, his tone was as sharp and cold as the blade in his hand. "The Core."

Mira's breath caught, and I felt her arms tighten around me. "What? No. We're not—"

"We don't have a choice," Lucien interrupted, turning to face her. His expression was unreadable, but there was something dark behind his eyes. "The Trail is fracturing. The Core is destabilizing. If we don't get to it—"

"If we don't get to it, what?" Mira snapped, her voice trembling. "What happens then, Lucien? What happens to him?" Her gaze dropped to me, her fingers brushing against the crack on my arm as it pulsed faintly.

Lucien's jaw tightened, his silence louder than any answer he could have given.

Mira let out a sharp, bitter laugh, tears welling in her eyes again. "You don't even know, do you? You're dragging us into this, risking his life, and you don't even know—"

"Mira," Charlotte cut in softly, her voice strained but firm. "Stop."

Mira's head whipped around, her glare fiery and wet. "Don't you dare—"

"We don't have time for this," Lucien said, his voice low and clipped. He turned away again, his focus shifting back to the dark corridor ahead. "The Core is pulling us toward it. If we stay here, it won't matter what we want."

---

The corridor began to change as they pressed on. The veins on the walls grew brighter, their light pulsing faster, more erratically. The air grew hotter, each breath burning faintly against my skin. Mira adjusted her grip on me again, her steps faltering as the ground beneath us shifted—small cracks spidering across the floor, glowing faintly with crimson light.

"It's falling apart," Charlotte muttered, her voice almost drowned out by the rising hum that filled the space.

Lucien didn't respond, his movements quickening as he navigated around the cracks and jagged pieces of stone that jutted out from the floor. The corridor began to twist, the walls slanting at unnatural angles that made it feel like the entire estate was tilting.

Mira stumbled, her breath hitching as her boot caught on a loose stone. She tightened her hold on me, her fingers trembling. "I can't do this," she whispered, though her feet kept moving.

"You can," Lucien said sharply, glancing back at her. "You don't have a choice."

Mira's lips parted, but whatever words she'd planned to say were swallowed by a sudden tremor that shook the ground beneath us. She gasped, her arms curling protectively around me as the walls groaned and splintered, chunks of stone breaking loose and crashing to the ground.

"Move!" Lucien shouted, his voice cutting through the chaos.

---

The corridor opened suddenly, spilling us into a vast chamber that pulsed with chaotic energy. The air was thick and heavy, charged with a static that made my skin crawl. At the center of the room was the Nexus Core—or what was left of it.

The Core was fractured, its once-smooth surface cracked and jagged, pieces of it floating in midair, held together by unstable threads of crimson energy. The light it emitted was blinding and erratic, flaring violently before dimming into a faint, sickly glow.

Lucien stopped just inside the chamber, his eyes narrowing as he surveyed the Core. His sword rose slightly, his posture tense, ready for whatever came next.

"This is a mistake," Mira whispered, her voice trembling as she took a hesitant step back. "We shouldn't be here."

"We don't have a choice," Lucien said again, his tone flat but firm.

Mira shook her head, her tears spilling over as she clutched me tighter. "You keep saying that like it makes this okay. Like it makes it right."

Charlotte moved to stand beside Lucien, her gaze fixed on the Core. "It's worse than I thought," she murmured.

Lucien nodded grimly. "It's collapsing."

"And what happens when it does?" Mira demanded, her voice rising. "What happens to him?"

Neither of them answered.

---

A sudden surge of energy rippled through the room, and I flinched as a wave of heat washed over me. The crack on my arm pulsed again, brighter this time, spreading faintly toward my chest. My tiny body trembled, and I let out a weak, pitiful cry.

Mira gasped, her hands trembling as she pressed one to my forehead. "He's getting worse," she choked out, her voice thick with panic. "Lucien, do something!"

Before he could respond, the system flickered to life in my mind.

[The Spectral Echo activates.]

I didn't understand what it meant, but suddenly, the air around me seemed to shift. A faint, shimmering image began to form in the center of the room, its edges flickering like the memory fragments we'd seen before.

Lucien and Charlotte froze, their eyes locked on the image as it sharpened into a clear scene.

A woman stood at the center of the room—Lilia Redthorn. Her dark hair was loose around her shoulders, her face drawn and pale. Her hands were raised, her fingers trembling as she chanted in a language I couldn't understand.

The Core was whole in the memory, its surface smooth and glowing with a steady, powerful light. But something about the scene felt… wrong.

Lilia's voice faltered, her words breaking into a desperate sob as she dropped to her knees. "I can't," she whispered, her voice thick with tears. "I can't do it."

The Core flared violently, its light shifting to a deep crimson as cracks began to spider across its surface.

"The anchor must bleed," Lilia said, her voice trembling. "The anchor must—"

The memory shattered abruptly, the image dissolving into fragments of light that flickered and faded.

---

Mira's breaths were sharp and uneven, her tears falling faster as she looked down at me. "No," she whispered, shaking her head. "No, I won't let this happen to him."

Lucien's jaw tightened, his gaze fixed on the Core. "That's why she failed," he said quietly.

Charlotte turned to him, her expression tight. "Because she couldn't—"

"Because she wouldn't," Lucien interrupted, his voice sharp.

Another surge of energy rippled through the room, and the ground beneath us cracked violently, glowing fissures spreading outward from the Core.

"We're running out of time," Lucien said, his voice low but firm.

Mira shook her head, her body trembling as she clutched me tighter. "There has to be another way," she whispered, her voice breaking. "There's always another way."

Lucien didn't respond. His grip on his sword tightened, his gaze locked on the fractured Core as the ground beneath us began to splinter further.

The system flickered again, its words sharp and cold:

[The anchor fractures further. The vessel cannot endure alone.]

I didn't understand the words, but I felt their weight pressing down on me, suffocating and unrelenting. My chest ached, and the crack on my arm pulsed brighter, spreading further toward my heart.

And still, Mira followed.