Into The Empire

Phelixes awoke to the cool sensation of dew dripping onto his face.

Blinking against the pale light of dawn, he sat up abruptly, scanning his surroundings. He was inside a makeshift treehouse, the air crisp and damp, and the tender new skin on his arms tingled as if reborn.

Carefully, he exited the shelter and climbed to its top. There, silhouetted against an infinite expanse of stars, was Lyra.

The vast night sky stretched endlessly, adorned with ancient stars that cast their cold, silent light.

Lyra's silver hair caught the faint glow, giving her an ethereal quality as she stood motionless, gazing into the heavens.

Schedar shimmered brightly, framing her figure in its icy radiance.

Without a word, she turned from the stars, landing gracefully beside him.

Her voice, calm but direct, broke the silence. "Any discomfort?"