[Vainglory Story] Lyra: The Consequence And The Inception

After Trostan's destruction, Lyra and Reim must return home ...

On the shore of muddy Trostan, Lyra watches a Grangor searching through the ghost town, passing a blue-glowing well and rising to the glacier. For days they have been sorting through the smoky ruins, wiping ashes from every dead man's face, but Samuel is not found.

The old ice magician walked beside him, with his cane, his eyebrows rising. "Nobody will blame you if you do not come back."

Lyra without hesitation. "I'm a Gythia."

"Uh huh." Reim performs gestures as if he does not care.

"This is the time," he said.

Reim spread his hands from the palm of his hand, forming an ice ball. Lyra's breath froze in her throat. Her arms shuddered. Dew emerged from the fingers of Reim sharp ice formed on his beard coated his wand and he tapped it into the mud. The ground shook, large tapered ice chunks appeared in the middle of Trostan, splitting the sky, covering the well.

"Your turn," Reim said. "Destroy."

His spellbook blinks and opens between his hands an ancient spell uttered from his mouth. The magic barrier of the city began to fade in the sky, churning in the air and returning to his book. Maintained for centuries, melting clouds are descending, flooding the devastated city, creating an avalanche that covers the ruins of the city.

The two magicians boarded a ship. Lyra hugged her spell book and watched the hard work of her life go further and further away. Initially, the frozen city was where the miners, thieves and gangs of people who wanted to get rich quick, but in Lyra's refuge, the city became colorful. The immigrants from Gythia fill it with buildings, sculptures, plants, legitimate buying and legal laws as well. The magic tower of Trostan, like its place of origin, its circular walls is filled with books and art, now only ashes.

20 Years before ...

The fortuneteller looked sadly under her white veil when she took off her pigeons from a golden cage without any ceremony. As they flew to the mast of the ship, he thought it was a good sign. These explorers and miners have occupied the area of the frozen Kall Peaks, where only Grangor has ventured here before, before the crystals were discovered. Far above, on the edge of the mountains, the ferocious cats see. If Lyra succeeds, more ships will follow him from Gythia with prospective residents of Trostan: architects, traders, artists, farmers with seeds and supplies of their lives, more miners and boat builders, teachers and physicists for their children.

Lyra wore a red fur coat. The spring at Kall means full of snow, which fills the sea where his speech on the splendor of the kingdom and the hope for a prosperous future is abandoned.

Never before had many eyes stared at him. Never before had so many responsibilities on her shoulders. Never before had he wanted a failure. "If there's one day for that, let it be today," he mumbled.

"What?" asked Grangor the guide. Though covered with feathers, he looks the same as his smile that shows his teeth.

"I have prepared the speech," he shouted back. "I think they'll hear it!"

"Just do it!" He clenched his hands together.

Lyra focused her eyes on glowing glaciers. He took a deep breath, a cold breath into his lungs and held it and warmed it, before releasing it into a fog. "Come, Ambrose," he whispered, and his spell book flew from his robe, hovering over the palm of his hand. Grangor's eyes spun upward as he whispered the mantra he had in it.

Another cold breath and the snow that hit him, and then his red fur cloak became warm and dry, then his hair, and he gathered the warmth between his hands and made the desire, as usual, that he wanted to be able to hold it forever.

His hands were stretched and the light appeared from the tip of his finger. A curved barrier forms on a barrier that will soon become Trostan, and snow falls around this protector like water flowing over a glass ball. The clouds melted inside his warm fortress, the inhabitants glad to see the sun, and the glowing glacier that Halcyon ran began to crack and flow into what is already known, the next generation, the twinning river from Trostan.

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