Doom & The Lucid Nightmare Requiem
The air inside the grand hall of Meridian was heavy with the scent of ozone and shattered stone. A jagged tear in the floorboards was still smoldering from the sheer force of the recent battle, but the silence that followed was far more terrifying than the noise.
"So the Knights must have been our psychic invaders..."
Will Vandom spoke the words softly, her hand pressed against her temple. The Keeper of the Heart of Kandrakar looked around at her improbable band of allies: Leif, the weary and battle-tested King of Deltora; her brother, Prince Phobos, his sharp, aristocratically cold features tight with frustration; and Edmund Pevensie, who stood with his hand rested on the pommel of his sword, his eyes darting toward every shadow.
"I don't think so," Will muttered, shaking her head as a sudden shiver ran down her spine. "That melody from my dream... it's still playing."
Leif took a step forward, his hand reflexively hovering near the Belt of Deltora. "A melody? Will, if the Knights aren't the ones who breached your mind, then who did?"
"Maybe I can make you see it," Will said, her voice dropping an octave as the Heart at her neck gave a dim, faint pulse. She closed her eyes, trying to catch the phantom notes floating through her mind. "Pay no attention to the psychic invaders behind the curtain..."
"What are you babbling about, sister?" Phobos snapped, stepping closer, though there was a hint of genuine unease behind his usual arrogance. "Focus. If your mind is compromised, it puts us all at risk."
"She was in the shadows, making us dance to her tune like marionettes," Will continued, her eyes snapping open. The realization hit her like a physical blow. "She must be the one behind all the trouble in Kandrakar lately—including the Knights of Vengeance. But after that blast of psychic feedback..."
"If there were any way to escape, this would be the time," Edmund interrupted grimly, gesturing toward the crumbling archway leading out of the hall. The palace guards were scattered, and the lingering dark magic in the room was suffocating.
Before Phobos could deliver a sharp retort to the young king, a low rumble echoed through the stone walls, followed by the heavy, rhythmic thud of massive footsteps retreating into the gloom outside.
"Someone is there," Leif warned, pulling his blade free with a metallic hiss. "Look."
Through the dust and haze, a silhouette vanished into the treeline bordering the city limits. It was a hulking, unnatural form dragging a bound figure behind it.
"It's Doom," Phobos whispered, his eyes narrowing as he recognized the brute. "And he isn't alone."
"They must have some use for him," Edmund said, watching the shadows swallow the beast and his captive. "And some dark scheme against Meridian."
Will tightened her grip on her talisman, looking over at Phobos. Despite the dark magic and royal ambition that had always fractured their bloodline, the shared connection between them thrummed under the surface. The faint ethereal melody in her head shifted into a low, threatening hum, echoing through both of their minds.
"We're not going to find our answers here," Will said, turning to face the group. "The psychic trail... it leads across the northern waste."
"Then our path is clear," Leif said, looking out toward the jagged peaks on the horizon. "We'll have to go north to the City of Giants."
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