The Lost Mage's Journey

Chapter 55: Aftermath of Lyka's Sacrifice

The night sky stretched endlessly as Mira soared over Lusitania, clutching Lyka's limp body close to her. Tears streamed down her face, her heart heavy with guilt and sorrow. She kept whispering Lyka's name, as if calling her back from the abyss, but Lyka's face remained peaceful, her silver hair drifting in the night breeze, stained with her own blood.

As Mira approached the palace, the royal guards noticed her and sounded the alarm. The main gates opened, and there stood King Elric, Queen Alicia, and Lyka's closest friends, their faces pale with fear and shock. Mira landed in front of them, gently lowering Lyka to the ground, her own legs trembling as she knelt, holding Lyka's hand tightly.

King Elric's eyes widened as he saw his daughter's state. He dropped to his knees beside her, his hand shaking as he brushed a stray lock of silver hair from her face. "Lyka... my child..." His voice broke as he took her hand, feeling how cold it was.

Queen Alicia's face was streaked with silent tears as she joined her husband, holding onto Lyka's other hand. "Someone call for the royal healer, immediately!" she cried, her voice full of desperation. "She needs help... she... she can't..." But her words were drowned out by sobs as she clutched her daughter close, her body shaking.

The palace healer rushed over within moments, carefully examining Lyka's wounds. After a tense silence, he bowed his head, his voice full of regret. "Your Majesties... she is in a coma. Her magic reserves are depleted, and her body... it will take time to recover. There is no telling when—or if—she will wake."

A ripple of shock spread through the crowd, and Lyka's friends gasped, unable to believe what they were hearing. Elara buried her face in her hands, sobbing uncontrollably, while Darius clenched his fists, eyes dark with anger and helplessness.

Auron, always the steady one, stood rigid, his face pale but calm. He stepped forward, placing a gentle hand on Mira's shoulder. "Mira... tell us what happened. Why... why did this happen to Lyka?"

Mira, still kneeling, couldn't lift her eyes. She felt their accusing stares, and the guilt weighed heavily on her soul. She knew that, no matter how much she explained, it wouldn't take away the fact that she had brought Lyka to this point. After all, it was her that Marcellus had used to manipulate Lyka, to bring her to this battle.

Finally, Mira looked up, her red eyes filled with pain and regret. She took a deep, shuddering breath and turned toward the king and queen, bowing low until her forehead touched the ground. "Your Majesties... I am prepared to accept any punishment for my failure. I was supposed to protect her... and yet, I let her walk into Marcellus's trap. I let her get hurt."

King Elric looked at Mira, his face a mixture of sadness and weariness. He exchanged a glance with Queen Alicia, who gave a faint nod, her own heart torn. After a pause, he spoke softly, yet firmly.

"Mira," he began, his voice surprisingly gentle, "I know that you have loved and protected Lyka as if she were your own family. I do not doubt your loyalty or your devotion. But this wound... this wound in our hearts... it is something that only time can heal." He placed a hand on her shoulder, looking deeply into her eyes. "We will wait. We will wait for Lyka to wake up. And when she does, I will let her decide what is fair and just."

Mira's heart ached at his words, yet she found comfort in his kindness. Bowing her head, she whispered, "Thank you, Your Majesty. I swear... I will do whatever it takes to make things right."

The king managed a faint smile, though sorrow still lingered in his eyes. "Then stand, Mira. We all share the pain of this loss. You are not alone in this."

The days turned into weeks, and still Lyka remained in her silent, comatose state. The palace was a shadow of its former self; once lively hallways were now quiet, filled with whispers and heavy hearts. Each morning, Queen Alicia sat by Lyka's bed, holding her hand and telling her stories of their family, of the beautiful days yet to come, hoping her voice would reach Lyka wherever she was.

In the evenings, Mira took her place, sitting by Lyka's side in silence, occasionally murmuring apologies, regrets, and promises. She replayed their memories together, clutching onto each one as if it could bring Lyka back to her.

One night, as Mira sat beside Lyka, she gently brushed her hair, remembering the times Lyka had playfully pestered her, demanding attention like a little sister. Her eyes filled with tears, and she whispered, "You promised you'd stay with me, Lyka. You promised..."

One particularly quiet evening, Mira was alone in the garden, staring at the stars. Her thoughts were a mess of memories and regrets, but most of all, a deep and aching loneliness. Just as she was lost in thought, Elara appeared, her usual brightness dulled by the events of the past weeks.

"Mira," Elara said softly, sitting beside her, "I know this has been hard on you. But... please remember, you're not alone. We're all here for her, and for you."

Mira nodded, her lips trembling as she tried to hold back her emotions. "Thank you, Elara. It's just... I feel like it's my fault. If I hadn't been so weak... maybe none of this would have happened."

Elara reached out, taking Mira's hand. "Lyka's choices were her own. She loved you, and she would never blame you for any of this. So don't carry this weight alone. We'll face whatever comes together."

Mira's eyes filled with gratitude, and for the first time in days, a faint smile crossed her face. "Thank you... for reminding me."

One evening, as Mira sat quietly by Lyka's bedside, she felt a strange warmth. The room seemed to fill with a gentle, soothing light. She blinked in surprise as the air shifted, and suddenly, Lyka's eyelids fluttered. Her breathing deepened, and her face softened, as if she were on the brink of awakening.

Suddenly, Mira heard a voice—a soft, ethereal voice that seemed to come from within Lyka herself.

"Lyka will return, Mira. She is stronger than you know. And when she does, be ready to walk beside her."

Mira's eyes widened in shock. She realized it was Carina's voice, the god of darkness who had chosen to bind with Lyka. Mira reached out, gripping Lyka's hand tightly, feeling a new surge of hope and determination.

"I'll be here, Lyka. No matter what happens, I'll be here."

Finally, two weeks after the battle, on a quiet night, Lyka's consciousness stirred. In the darkness of her mind, she felt an overwhelming warmth—a presence comforting her, strong and reassuring. She recognized it as Carina, watching over her like a guardian.

"Lyka," Carina's voice echoed softly, "you are stronger than this pain. You fought for Mira, and you saved her. You have a purpose that extends beyond sorrow."

Lyka nodded weakly, finding strength in Carina's words. "Thank you, Carina... for staying with me."

Carina smiled gently in Lyka's mind, touching her cheek. "You are never alone. I am here, and I always will be."

As the night stretched on, Lyka slowly felt herself returning to the world, a new resolve blossoming in her heart.

In the final scene of this chapter, Lyka's parents sat beside her as usual, unaware that the warmth was returning to her face. As dawn broke over Lusitania, a new light filled the room, one that promised hope, strength, and a second chance.

And somewhere deep in her heart, Lyka's voice whispered, "I will save you, Mira. I will bring peace to everyone I love."