The Chivalry Attack (5)

Lyrium gasped.

Air—air.

His lungs burned as he gulped it in, his body trembling from the sheer intensity of what he had just experienced.

His skin was cold, slick with sweat, and every breath felt like a desperate attempt to ground himself in reality.

His eyes flickered open.

A dimly lit chamber stretched before him, its towering stone walls adorned with shifting runes that pulsed with an eerie, unnatural glow.

Arcane torches flickered, casting elongated shadows that twisted and danced against the aged stone.

The air smelled of parchment, dust, and something else—something ancient.

Lyrium's fingers twitched against the rough stone beneath him as he pushed himself upright, his heartbeat still a frantic drum against his ribs.

Then, a voice.

"You are awake."

His head snapped toward the source.

From the far end of the chamber, a figure emerged, draped in robes woven from twilight itself.