Thanks to anyone still reading this - hopefully, you're finding something to like?

Chapter Thirty-One: Preparations

When he opened his eyes, he could see full colour once more. Lyra was absent. Had he scared her off? Or worse… had he attacked her? Fear caused him to bolt upright. He tried to stand but was immediately brought back down to the ground. The rattling of chains served as a reminder of what had transpired over the night. Right. The full moon.

The door opened. "Oh, you're awake." Lyra. Her cheeks flushed red. Right. No clothing. To her credit, she didn't look away this time, but rather kept her eyes focused on his face. "You don't remember turning back?"

Lance shook his head. "No. But I remember what it was like."

She kneeled beside him and helped to unscrew the shackles. Once the shackles were loose enough, he pulled himself free and flexed his arms. Lyra turned away and grabbed his clothing and handed them over. "You survived. Those chains held."

Lance put his clothing back on then glanced down at the shackles. He noticed human teeth nearby and brought a hand to his mouth to check they were all still there. No gaps. "I think they were designed to keep mages from escaping. I believe your mother lived in Blackthorn for a short time – she helped my grandmother make the curse. I wouldn't be surprised if her power was used to create these chains as well."

"What was it like? Being a wolf?" Lyra said, turning back around.

"Different. I just wanted to eat. Bite you."

"That should be something you can learn to control."

He rubbed his neck. "Yes, something to look forward to. It won't be easy."

"Nothing ever is. But you're not a true wolf so your thoughts should still be your own and a not a wolf's."

Magic certainly worked in funny ways. How had the witch known how to create a spell to turn men into beasts anyway? Was this the result she had intended? It felt more like a curse than a blessing. "There'll be time for that later. I need to meet my father. I told him we would raise the new banners as a signal the city had been retaken."

She raised an eyebrow. "Are you sure it's wise? You need to rest."

Lance shook his head. "I don't need to rest. We can't delay."

"War is upon us, Lance. We need to prepare. I know you want to see him again, but what if you lose him during the battle? Best to wait until the war is over and then he can help you. But time is precious now," she insisted.

As much as he didn't want to agree, Lyra raised a good point. Was it wise to change the banners now when he still wasn't an experienced wolf? Or invite another wolf into the city? "You're right. I just want to do something."

"We can talk to Morty. He can't escape if he's constantly watched right? We'll watch his every move. Also, he said he found Henry's sword… The sword that faerie made," Lyra said.

Lance didn't trust Morty, but what other choice did they have? To defeat the enemy, you had to befriend one of their own. He was the key to their success. "A gift for Clair perhaps. To win her favour. Which means the sword would be hiding in her room because no one would go in there or incur her wrath. We need that weapon. Did Morty say much more?"

Lyra looked thoughtful. "Ghetsis was brought back by the magic of Nathaniel's sceptre. Magic can undo him and his army. Faerie blood is said to be pure right? The purest form of magic. And the dead are afraid of the light."

"So, you use your magic to empower the weapon?"

"Talk to Morty. He's upstairs."

He nodded. "Of course." He moved past Lyra and walked up the stairs back towards the main dungeon chamber. Both Clair and Morty were wide awake; his screams from last night had probably kept them awake. Clair sat in the corner, her knees brought to her chest, arms wrapped around them. Her hair was down and unruly, and her eyes swollen, as if she had been crying. She didn't say anything. She simply kept her eyes focused on her hands.

On the other hand, Morty was keen to talk. He crawled over to the bars and held onto them, pressing his face against a gap. "Ah, Lance. At last we have a chance to talk. I did try talking to Clair, but she doesn't feel like talking. I wonder why?" he mused. For a man that was imprisoned, he certainly seemed to be in fine spirits.

Lance approached the bars and looked down. "Lyra said you would help us. You're lucky that I believe her otherwise you'd be dead now. How do we stop him?"

"I gave the sword to Clair."

"Henry Blackthorn's sword?" Clair called out from across the room. "It's in my room."

"I thought as much," Lance remarked, keeping his back turned. "The dead fear the divine, right? That sword is dormant. Lyra is a faerie."

"And she can use her magic to awaken the sword again and that will end Ghetsis. He was brought back with magic – he can only be killed with magic. You bring him down, and the rest will fall too," Morty replied. After a pause he added, "Lyra can do this. She's the only one who can. I can help her. I might not be a faerie, but I can help her focus."

Lance narrowed his eyes. "What's to stop you from killing her afterwards? Or from turning against us?"

"What would I gain from your deaths?" Morty looked up at him with a frown. "If my people succeed, and they will if we do not stop them, then this world you love? It will no longer exist. It'll be overrun with the dead. I don't intend to be part of that army."

Lance gave Morty a thoughtful look. "I could still have you executed."

"You blame me for what happened, and to some extent, I can understand." He folded his arms. "But because of my actions Clair is here, and so is Lyra. The death of Prince Benga brought us all together."

Lyra looked at Lance. "He might be annoying, but he does have his uses. He knows how to fight. He knows more about magic than any of us do, and if I want to channel this faerie power… I'll need his help. If he fails to uphold his end of the bargain, we can kill him afterwards." She shifted her gaze to Morty, her expression cold.

"So. Why don't you let me out and we can discuss this someplace else?" Morty said, pointing at the lock on the cell door. "I won't try to fight you. I know better than to pick a fight with a faerie and a werewolf… experienced or not. I like living."

Lance raised an eyebrow. Morty knew? He didn't ask questions however preferring not to discuss the matter openly. "Fine. But you will walk in front of me so I can keep an eye on you."

"I'm glad we're getting along."

Lyra pulled out a key and inserted it into the keyhole. The door popped open and Morty walked out. Lance didn't fully trust the man; there was no telling what was really going through his head; but he had skills no one else had in Blackthorn. If Arceus truly existed, then perhaps he intended them to put aside their differences and work towards a common goal of eliminating the true threat. Without saying another word, he guided Morty out of the cells.

"I'll retrieve the sword. Head to the council room. I'll meet you there," Lance said though he was reluctant to leave Lyra with Morty. A part of him feared Morty would attack Lyra and escape, but would his magic even work on a faerie? "I will not free you from your bindings until I return," he said, glancing at the manacles keeping Morty's wrists together.

Morty nodded. "Of course."

"Right. I'll return shortly."

He turned his back and headed upstairs to the uppermost floor of the castle then walked down the hallway towards Clair's room. Her room had not been touched since her imprisonment. The bed was unmade, and the drawers were open. Clair's wedding dress sat on her bed. Morty had been right. Without his interference, both Clair and Lyra would be in Unova and he would've lost his chance to defeat Ghetsis.

He looked skywards. "You certainly work in mysterious ways, Arceus," he murmured, casting his gaze downwards once more. He walked to the bed, then dropped down to his knees and peered underneath. There weren't many places in Clair's room to hide a longsword. As expected, the weapon was beneath the bed. He grabbed the blade and pulled it out then climbed to his feet, holding the blade before him, admiring the steel. The sword had a faint orange glow to it.

Running his left hand down the blade, his eyebrows arched in surprise as strange writing appeared on the steel. A script he could not decipher. Ancient writing of the faeries, he thought. He lowered the sword then walked out of the room and headed towards the council room on the lower floor.

Lance had gone ahead and summoned the brightest minds in Blackthorn to attend the meeting to determine what the best course of action was. Morty recognized Chuck, but the other faces were new to him. Samuel Oak, Gary's grandfather sat opposite to her. He was the man who was supposed to be the master of deciphering codes and curing ailments. An elderly woman called Agatha was also present. She was apparently the master of hex magic. Lastly, there was Koga, the man who tended to the city's records. He was also head of the church and he wore his clerical white robes with pride.

Sitting opposite to Morty was Lance. Lyra sat to his right and Chuck was on the man's left. An interesting bunch of people from different backgrounds. Clair was still in the dungeon. Lance didn't feel the need to involve her in such matters. On the table was a map of the region. Every kingdom, town, village, and landmark were visible. The cartographers had even gone to great lengths to add the forests, lakes, and mountains. Atop the map was Henry Blackthorn's sword.

Lance stood up to address the circle. "I've summoned you here to discuss the future. As you know, my grandfather is unwell. Recent events have weakened his heart and it's likely he will not last much longer. My cousin Clair sits in the dungeon on trial for her role in the death of Prince Benga, and for the senseless murder of three innocent victims. War will be upon us soon. The necromancer threat my grandfather refused to acknowledge advances on the city as we speak."

Koga leaned forward and cleared his throat. "The necromancers haven't been sighted since the war."

"One of them stands in this room with us now." Lance gestured towards Morty. "This is Morty. He's a necromancer."

Several gasps exited the mouths of the council. Koga surged to his feet his brows furrowed. Both Samuel and Agatha shifted their attention to Morty. Their expressions were neutral, but he suspected they also had their doubts. Chuck placed a hand on his sword, ready to strike if needed.

"A necromancer? Here? Are you mad?" Koga demanded.

"Sit down, Koga," Lance demanded. "Please, calm yourselves down." Koga slowly sat back down on his chair though his expression did not change. "To defeat our enemies, we must understand them. That's why Morty is here – he's going to help us. If I didn't think he'd be useful to our cause, he would've been executed immediately. We keep our friends close, and our enemies even closer."

"And you trust this man?" Koga said.

"Yes."

"Your grandfather would not approve of this madness!"

Morty sat back in his chair, enjoying the entertainment before him. Ah, politics, he thought with a wry grin. The reason why proud kingdoms collapsed. If these people couldn't solve their issues, Ghetsis would easily take the city. But he didn't say anything – it wasn't his place. He was a prisoner, not a guest.

"My grandfather is the one who got us into this mess in the first place," Lance retorted, his voice low. For a moment, Morty thought his eyes would flash yellow, but nothing happened. That would certainly get a reaction from the council. "He decided mages were evil. No wonder the mages are now seeking vengeance."

"Because Arceus demanded it! The mages were struck down by the plague. The rest of us were spared. Is that not a sign?" Koga argued, his voice rising. He wore a silver amulet around his neck which had an engraving of a white stag's head. Even the odd white hat on his head had the antlers woven into the material. "Your grandfather kept this city safe for decades! Now you've taken the throne and the war is upon us."

"Koga, please, allow Lance to explain himself," Samuel said. He gave Lance a nod.

Lance sighed. "The necromancers have found a way to bring back their leader, Ghetsis. You might remember that he was the founder of blood magic. Along with Nathaniel and Krahiya, they created a pact that would see all mages protected in Blackthorn. All mages would be taught how to control their magic in a safe place. But then the plague struck. Edward decided this was a sign mage were cursed and had to be stopped. It was a sign from Arceus he claimed."

"He had the wrong mages," Morty said. "The only form of corrupted magic that existed was the blood Ghetsis gave to his followers. He made a pact with the god of the dead, Yveltval. And his blood gave us power. A tainted kind. Blood can destroy and it can heal too."

Lance nodded. "Right."

Morty continued. "Three relics were made. A sceptre from Nathaniel created with the blood of an oracle and his own. Krahiya made an amulet and finally, Ghetsis had a staff. This sceptre was used to seal the dead behind doors to stop the spread of disease."

"And this sceptre was used to break open the seal to Ghetsis's tomb," Lance added.

"We didn't know where it was, but we knew it had to be found. Without it, we could never declare war on Blackthorn," Morty continued, leaning forward, his elbows resting on the edge. "The seal to Nathaniel's tomb couldn't be opened by normal means. You needed the sceptre… or be of the Oak bloodline. Blood is power you see. A man called Bugsy convinced Gary Oak to break open the seal. You can't fault him – no one told him the importance of his bloodline," Morty added, throwing a look in Samuel's direction. The old man looked away.

Koga raised his eyebrows. "Oak? You are related to Nathaniel? You lied about your name."

Samuel nodded. "I knew we would never be accepted."

"That's plenty of surprises for today," Chuck murmured, rubbing his chin.

"And the sceptre was retrieved," Lyra supplied.

"And I obtained it from Gary Oak thanks to Clair granting us guards the right to enter homes to question the locals about the poisoning of Prince Benga." Raising a hand, he pointed a finger at Samuel. "You thought withholding the truth from your grandson would keep him safe, but you placed him in greater danger. Not knowing anything cost him almost everything. Anyway. I gave the sceptre to Naoko… She's my… superior."

"I've heard much about the three relics of power," Koga said, his tone steady though he did move his chair slightly away from Samuel Oak. "Henry Blackthorn wrote about them in his journals. Edward Blackthorn had them locked away in a chest in the castle library. They grant special abilities to the bearer. One grants foresight. Another one grants memories. The other the power to enslave the mind."

"Clair had a strange amulet. That must've been what had led her to want to poison Prince Benga. She saw a future she didn't like," Lance mused looking thoughtful then said, "Why wasn't any of this brought up?"

"There was no need," Samuel interjected. "Two relics were sealed. The third was lost."

"We need one of the amulets. All of them were made with the blood of an oracle. Oracle blood is special. Rare and it grants special abilities that normal magic can't do. Not even a faerie could perform this sort of magic," Morty explained.

Lance frowned. "What's the difference between faeries and oracles?"

"Oracles see into the future. That's their power granted by Arceus," Koga explained.

"And faeries are people of divine blood," Morty added.

"Why would Arceus allow a necromancer to find these relics?" Koga mused.

Samuel leaned forward. "Arceus works in mysterious ways. Perhaps this is a test to see if we can overcome our differences and work together for the common good. That is to combat the darkness that threatens our city.""

Lance nodded. He placed a hand on the map, his finger on Blackthorn Forest. "|hey will come from the east through the forest and they'll attack the eastern wall. We'll have archers positioned along the wall and in the tower keep. How many soldiers can we expect?

"There really aren't many of us. Probably around a hundred necromancers. But the army of the dead… easily a few thousand," Morty answered. "Course, numbers don't mean everything. The undead really don't have functioning brains so they'll be easily outsmarted."

"How many men do we have?" Lyra said.

Lance looked at Chuck. "How many?"

"Not enough. We have forces scattered around the region. Some are in distant lands. We currently only have five hundred men in the city itself and fifty elite knights. It will take days for word to reach our other forces and we can't turn to our allies for assistance. We don't have the time," Chuck answered. "We can hold off against a thousand men, but a few thousand?"

Lance rubbed his chin, frustrated. "Why are our numbers so low?"

"Your grandfather sent forces to help our allies in foreign lands to keep the alliance strong. They've been travelling for months now," Chuck explained. "Your grandfather didn't think we were facing a threat."

Lance fell silent. Morty spoke up. "With careful planning and a smart strategy, we can beat those odds. The dead can still burn. If you have any oil barrels, now is a good time to use it… Or anything else that is flammable."

"The grass will burn too," Koga said. "It could burn for miles and a thick haze will fill the air. How are we supposed to fight if we can't see anything?"

"These fortifications have always stood strong. These walls survived the Time of Troubles and wars before that. We will hold our ground," Lance said.

"But what about the peasants? They can't fight," Koga said.

"No, but they can hide in the underground secret passage beneath the castle. If they run, they'll just be caught." Lance paused then continued. "There is no safe place to hide. Even if they left now, they'd be picked off by the bandits. Our enemies will fight with magic. But we have our own powers," Lance said, turning his attention to Lyra. He then shifted his gaze towards Morty. "How are we expected to fight the dead? I don't suppose they can be killed. Won't they just stand up again?"

Agatha looked thoughtful. "Yes, they will. They're bound to magic."

"How do you take something down that's dead? So many men will die of exhaustion," Chuck said with a frown. "We are only human. If these creatures are tied to magic, then they will never die unless the man who raised them dies."

Several pairs of heads turned to Morty. "Correct. They can't be defeated like normal men. But well-made swords can break through bone with enough force. They're skeletal beings with no minds of their own. If they don't have legs or arms, then they're no harm."

"I can't believe we're going to fight an army of skeletons," Chuck murmured.

"We don't have much of a choice. If we fall, then this world falls," Lance remarked.

Agatha peered down at the sword. "There's text on it. Old symbols of a dead language. Perhaps Koga can make better sense of it than I. You are the expert on lore. Perhaps you've come across such symbols before in the texts." She pulled away.

Koga brought his face down close to the blade. He squinted. "…Interesting… These are the same symbols found in the early origins of the ancestors. Two-legged creatures but they bore striking resemblance to the monkeys to the far south west. These ones are carrying weapons… Staves it seems."

"The origins of the mages," Morty said slowly.

"Or the origins of mankind," Samuel added.

"How about both? These were the first humans. The first generation of mages. Magic had to come from someone," Morty replied.

"So, you're implying the faeries were the first mages?" Koga said with a frown.

Agatha nodded. "It makes sense. Faeries are pure then corruption followed the war between the gods. Different gods with different followers, and each faction had a unique set of gifts."

"Then my order was born. Necromancy," Morty added, placing his bound arms on his lap.

"But this sword was hidden. Why would the sword be revealed to you?" Koga said.

Morty shrugged. "Perhaps it was destiny. To bring us all here under one roof."

"This never would have happened if you hadn't found the relics," Koga pointed out.

Rolling his eyes, Morty replied with, "They weren't easy to obtain. But if it wasn't me, it would've been someone else. These things don't stay hidden forever. When I found the sword, I was shown a memory. Maybe it was Arceus. Maybe it was Henry's spirit. I don't know. But this sword was meant to be found, and I just happened to be the one to find it."

Lance cleared his throat. "And that's not all we have to worry about. When Bruno and I were scouting, we heard a dragon. We haven't seen a dragon around these parts since the founding of Blackthorn. Where did he get a dragon from?"

"Raising the dead isn't just limited to humans. A dragon was defeated here," Samuel said.

"A dragonite."

Samuel thought hard. "Ghetsis was from Unova. The Unovas believed in a three-headed dragon known as hydreigon, one of the fallen gods from the war."

"And there's a hydreigon here now? How?" Lance remarked.

"Summoning power," Morty said leaning back in the chair. "Ghetsis was always known as the strongest mage. Unova is the home of magic. There's no way of knowing the true extent of his powers."

"We have to fight a dragon too?" Chuck said eyebrows raised.

Morty nodded. "Seems that way. But this dragon will be tied to Ghetsis's magic. If Ghetsis falls, his entire army falls. Of course, the hard part is getting to Ghetsis and striking him down." He then gestured to the sword on the table. "That's why we have this sword."

Agatha examined it. "I would like to study this weapon more once the war is over."

"Assuming we will even survive," Koga murmured.

Samuel looked at Agatha. "And once more we work side by side."

"Yes, it's been quite a few decades has it not?" Samuel didn't reply and Agatha turned to Gary. "I will need your help. I would like to return to Nathaniel's tomb and unearth more secrets."

Gary shook his head. "I'm not going back there. What's there to find anyway? Just an old dusty tomb and his corpse."

"Exactly. You can use your magic to gain his memories."

"But he's dead. There's no blood to draw from."

Samuel looked alarmed. "I will not allow my grandson to practice it."

"Yet he broke open the seal to Nathaniel's tomb with his blood," Agatha countered. "You can't stop him from using magic when it's a part of him. You've made your choices. He's allowed to make his own."

Gary still looked conflicted. Morty turned to him. "Blood magic isn't bad. Your father used it to seal the tombs. Magic isn't evil. Only the people who use it are. A witch caused the plague. A witch is responsible for werewolves. Not a necromancer. So, we need to develop a plan."

Lance placed both arms on the table. "A wise idea. The army of the dead will be upon us soon. They won't have far to travel. I'd say we have two days left and if they're smart, they'll attack at nightfall."

"At least it won't be a full moon," Morty said glancing in Lance's direction.

"Yes," Lance replied, through clenched teeth. "That's something positive."

Lyra looked at the sword. "How am I supposed to even do this? I don't know how to use my powers." Raising her hands, she held them before her face as if expecting something to happen. "How does this work?"

"I think I can help you," Morty said.

"I will come with you. I would like to understand this power," Agatha said.

Samuel opened his mouth to reply but decided against it and remained silent.

Lance addressed the remainder. "Enhance this sword. As for the rest of us… Chuck, I want you to ensure every capable man is well equipped. Bruno will help you. Gary, you can take Lorelei can escort all the women and children into the secret passageway. Koga, you need to find all the important documents and put them somewhere safe. Samuel, I need to talk with you – in private.

"Of course," Samuel replied with a head tilt.

"Council meeting dismissed."

Lyra followed Agatha towards her home, making sure to stay away from the usual patrol routes. Word had reached every person within Blackthorn that Clair had been dethroned and Lance had taken control. Although the guards would not harm her, they could still delay time. Lyra wasn't sure how mentally and physically exhausting it would be to trigger the power in the blade. Every minute counted.

Morty placed the blade on the table. "When my people cast magic, we use our blood to channel to harm or to heal. That's what I did with the poison. Used my blood and from there I could channel it from a distance to kill the man."

Lyra arched her brows. "So, it wasn't the poison."

"The poisoned weakened him which meant it was much easier for me to break him. Clair just finished the job before I could," he replied then shifted his gaze to Agatha. "I wouldn't think a curse specialist would be interested in faerie magic."

"It's important to know everything I can."

Lyra placed her hands on the sword. "Right. Now what?"

Morty stood at her side. "You need to grip the sword around the steel."

"I'll bleed though."

He shrugged. "That sword was created by your bloodline. We all know blood is power. Now close your eyes and focus on the sword. Hold it firmly and think of light. The warmth of the sun. The light from the flickering flames. Think of Arceus himself," he explained.

She drew in her breath, feeling the heat of the fire lick at her skin. Gripping the sword firmly, she winced as the sharp edge pressed into her skin. She bit down on her lower lip to stop herself from crying out. Blood seeped through the wounds and onto the sword. Nothing happened at first, but she focused on Morty's advice, and pictured the sun. The light. Divinity.

Her hands throbbed. Whether it was from the cut or from her magic, she didn't know. But something was happening. A warmth spread through her body. Sweat formed on her head. Why did Agatha have a fire burning? It wasn't even cold. She wanted to wipe her brow, but she knew had to focus.

"Now hold the sword in the fire."

"My hands will burn," Lyra replied.

"Are you certain?" Morty.

"The sun burns brighter than any flame on our land. She is light. She cannot burn."

Lyra hoped Agatha was right. Drawing in a deep breath once more, she moved towards the fireplace, holding the sword above the flame. Fire lapped at her skin. She could feel the heat, but her skin did not burn. It was so hot, she feared her skin would peel off, but no one said anything. As the fire raged, her head began to spin. She felt something wet trickle down her lips and chin. It wasn't sweat, but something else. Someone grabbed her arm.

"I've got you, Lyra." Morty's voice. If she opened her eyes, she probably would collapse. Her knees wobbled, and her stomach muscles tightened.

The fire hissed and cracked. Angry. "It's working," Agatha said.

Her knees gave way to the ground, but Morty was there to keep her from falling. Now she opened her eyes. The smell of blood filled her nostrils. Her palms had been cut deep, but they were already starting to clot. Her eyebrows raised. "Where is the sword?"

"You dropped it in the fire," Morty pointed out, drawing her attention to the flames. "You'll have to take it out."

"But how do we know if it works?"

"I guess we will soon find out."

Lyra grabbed onto Morty's shoulder to keep herself from falling over. Fortunately, he didn't seem bothered by the blood covering her hand. He didn't even flinch. She reached her free hand into the flames, fingers curling around the hilt of the blade. The fire hissed and cracked, enshrouding the sword in flames. Once again, her skin burned, but remained intact. She pulled the sword out. The letters were clearly visible and bright yellow. The steel itself had a faint orange glow.

"The sword has been empowered," Agatha said.

Lyra's gaze was still fixated on the flames. "How did you know it would work?"

"I know many things," she replied, the hint of a small smile spreading across her face.

"And you didn't think to speak up earlier?"

Agatha averted her gaze back to the fireplace. "Everything happens for a reason. This war was always going to happen. If not Morty, it would've been someone else. This is a test from Arceus. To test our faith and strength."

The sword was surprisingly light. She supposed it was because of the magic. "It's a nice sword."

"Made for a true king," Agatha said.

Morty tilted his head to the side. "You're more than just some old lady, aren't you?"

She turned to face him her expression unreadable. "You should be focused on the upcoming battle than questioning me. All that matters is defeating Ghetsis and preventing his army from taking control of Blackthorn. You'll have to fight your own people, but I imagine you're well equipped to fight them," Agatha said, looking at Morty. He just snorted. She shifted her attention to Lyra. Placing her hands on her shoulders, Agatha held her gaze.

"I'm no fighter," she said. "I've never learned how to use a sword."

"You don't need to. You have magic."

"But I don't even know enough. What could I possibly do? Hide?"

Morty shrugged. "You can protect the others down there. There'll be other battles for you to partake in the future, but you're no good to Lance dead. Besides, faeries weren't exactly known for being fighters. That sword wasn't for your ancestors. You'll just get in the way and I'm sure Lance won't allow you to fight."

He was right. What benefit could she bring into a fight when she didn't even know how to? She'd just be a burden. Better to stay where it was safe. Hide in the passageway with the women and children and hope they'd succeed. If they failed… No. She had to think positive. Lance would succeed. He had to. "I'll bring the blade to him. It's already cool to touch."

"You can barely stand up right," Morty said. "I'll bring it to him. No, I'm not going to run away. Where am I going to go? Either that or you could tell him to come here and retrieve it himself. I'm sure Agatha isn't going to go far with it either."

Again, the man was right. She was still weakened from the spell. She sat down at the table and rubbed her nose. Fortunately, the blood had now clotted. That was one less thing she had to worry about. "You want your chains removed."

"Going to be hard to carry a sword with them on."

Could she trust him? "How do I know if I can trust you?"

"You can't. But like I said before. Where am I going to go? I go back home and I'm dead."

She studied his features, trying to catch a sign he was lying, but he didn't look away. He held her gaze, unflinching. "All right," she said slowly, grabbing the key around her neck. She inserted it into the keyhole and turned it to the right. It popped open. The chains fell to the ground.

He picked up the sword. "Thank you."

"Don't thank me yet."

Morty turned to leave as Agatha doused out the flames. Once Morty had left, the old woman sat down and motioned for Lyra to sit down as well. She obeyed.

"Once this war is won, you have to keep your origins as discreet as possible. If people know there's a faerie living here in Blackthorn, you'll attract unwanted attention. You can't trust everyone within these walls. You will need to be strong."

"You think there's something else out there?" The Unovans remained a possible threat. King Alder would presumably want revenge for the death of his grandson. But they had yet to receive word. The marriage of Clair and Benga was supposed to cement an alliance between the two regions should war ever become an issue, but that had collapsed.

The woman nodded. "There are many secrets in this land that are waiting to be discovered." Agatha pulled away. "But get some rest whilst you can. You must conserve your energy. I will give you some tea to drink to help you sleep undisturbed."

The woman stood up and walked into the kitchen area. Lyra didn't move. Agatha clearly knew something. Even Morty had been suspicious of her. The woman returned moments later with a small cup. The scent of onion and garlic filled the air. Lyra wrinkled her nose. "That's strong."

Agatha placed the cup on the table and pushed it towards Lyra. "Drink."

Lyra picked it up with both hands and brought it to her lips. She tilted her head back and poured the contents down her throat. As soon as the liquid touched her tongue, she recoiled at the odd taste. It wasn't something she wanted to continue drinking. But Agatha was watching her like a hawk. She drank as much as she could before putting the cup back down. Her stomach grumble and she yawned shortly afterwards. Agatha had said the drink would help her sleep. She didn't mention it would make her sleepy too. Her eyes closed, and she slumped in her chair, head low. Her world faded to black.