They remained silent all the way back to the elevator. But it wasn't an uncomfortable silence—it was more like a pact, a mutual understanding, and both were ready to face whatever came next.
Once inside, Lyra pressed the button for level -133, which sparked a sharp curiosity in Eiden. Just how deep did this endless abyss go?
Still, he didn't ask. He didn't want to ruin the solemnity of the moment.
"I forgot to check your neural implant," Lyra remarked casually, leaning against the elevator wall.
"Maybe that's for the best. I'm not sure I want to know what kind of stuff is in there thanks to this," he said, raising his left arm.
"Well, I do. It could be dangerous."
"It is. That's why I'd rather someone else ruin their day over it," he joked with his usual smirk.
Lyra sighed, shaking her head, though a faint smile crossed her lips.
Eiden turned his eyes to the screen, which now showed -112.
"Isn't it weird no one else uses this thing?" he asked, remembering how during the previous trip, the elevator had only stopped for Pierre and Krev.
"It's for officers only. Civilians have their own, public-use ones," Lyra replied, tilting her head while watching him intently.
"Got it," Eiden said, nodding—though he shifted uncomfortably under her sharp gaze. "Something wrong?"
Lyra shook her head softly, still smiling.
"You really do look good like that," she said suddenly, knowing full well Eiden was easy prey for embarrassment.
And she was right.
He had no idea what to say. He just nodded and looked away, blushing slightly.
Still, that strange sense of nostalgia ran through his chest again, without any clear reason.
"You've been awfully flirty lately," he said, the déjà vu creeping in.
Lyra couldn't help but laugh, which only deepened Eiden's blush.
"Sorry," she finally said, still grinning. "I think I enjoy making you nervous when I'm nervous."
"Thanks… I guess," he said, shaking his head while returning the smile.
"In any case, it wasn't a lie," she added, more seriously this time.
"Thanks again," Eiden replied, stepping closer to lean beside her. "If I hug you now, will you still have the nerve to keep teasing me?"
He looked her straight in the eyes, closing the distance even more. This time, it was Lyra who blushed, visibly growing nervous.
Eiden knew: physical affection was her weakness. She could strut around half-naked without flinching, but genuine contact unraveled her.
"Well played," she murmured, unable to hold his gaze.
And Eiden felt like he'd won that little duel.
Though, for some reason, he didn't want to move away. And Lyra made no attempt to stop him. Even when he leaned in closer, toward her face, she met his gaze with a gleam of wonder in her eyes.
A distant screech broke the moment—but neither of them seemed to hear it.
"Grand Vesper Lyra?" came the sudden voice of a young man.
They both jumped apart, as if repelled by some invisible force.
The elevator doors were wide open. In front of them, no fewer than a dozen people stood watching, confused and a little stunned.
Eiden felt the world collapse beneath him. He couldn't imagine a worse start.
Without missing a beat, Lyra stepped forward to address the group.
"Division Wisp, good morning," she greeted with firm, clear authority, as if nothing unusual had happened.
There was a brief murmur of confusion, but they all responded in perfect unison, performing the traditional fist-and-palm salute. This time, Lyra returned it with solemn grace.
"Grand Vesper, Solace salutes you!" they exclaimed as one, parting like a tide to let her through.
Eiden stood frozen in place, doubting every step he might take. But then Lyra turned her head slightly and gave him a meaningful glance over her shoulder.
It was enough to snap him out of it. He forced his legs to move, hastening after her.
The stares pierced him like invisible spears, burning his skin like fire. They were judging his every move.
The uniforms of Division Wisp were sleek and polished: a blend of dark hues with iridescent accents that shifted in the light, tailored jackets with geometric detailing along the shoulders.
Each one bore on their left breast the same symbol Eiden had seen engraved in Lyra's home: a circle intertwined with three spiraling curved lines.
Eiden shoved his hands into his jacket pockets, lowered his gaze, and avoided all eye contact.
Ahead of them stretched a wide corridor, more like a reinforced tunnel than a hallway. This time, there were no floating platforms, no domed ceiling revealing the outside world.
Level -133 was a closed section, vast in scale, with high ceilings reinforced by metal beams and energy panels. The walls were covered in a smooth, glass-like material, broken only by dim lights that cast a blueish hue over everything.
Nothing could be heard but their footsteps. It was an isolated space, as if the architecture itself was designed to protect—or contain—whatever happened inside.
When no one else was around, Eiden noticed Lyra muttering under her breath.
"Damn it, damn it, damn it…" she repeated, biting her lower lip hard.
"They seemed like subordinates. Is it really that bad?" Eiden asked cautiously, still unaware of the base's internal politics.
"They're Division Wisp. They're not directly under my command," she replied, trying to steady her breathing—though the tension was still visible in her eyes.
"Then… who are they under?"
Before she could answer, a woman's voice cut through the air like an explosive shout:
"Lyyyritaaaa!"
A woman charged toward Lyra, pulling her into a sudden hug that lifted her clean off the ground.
"T-Tilda!" Lyra exclaimed, half surprised, half flustered, swaying like a rag doll.
Tilda looked to be in her thirties, athletic and sun-worn from battle. Her amber eyes gleamed with feline sharpness, and her black hair ended in red-tipped, wild tufts.
Scars—some from burns, others from blades—crisscrossed her muscular arms.
Her outfit was a striking fusion of tribal and technological: a sleeveless vest made of ceramic-like plates over a short terracotta-toned tunic, adorned with embroidered code ribbons.
She wore heavy boots, multipurpose bracers Eiden recognized from the military, and a synthetic bone necklace braided with cables. Everything about her screamed: Don't underestimate me.
"I was really sad when I went to your place two days ago and you weren't there," she said with an exaggerated pout.
"Oh… I'm sorry. I had to take care of something urgent," Lyra replied, scratching the back of her neck awkwardly. "You didn't say you'd be here for this meeting. I thought you were out at the Embiste, hunting some suited fugitives…"
"And I was! But I'll tell you all about it later. I'm dead tired," Tilda said with a radiant smile that clearly contradicted her words. "Good thing you showed up—I didn't want to face all those sour faces without my beautiful Lyra by my side."
"I'm glad you came. I'll need people I trust today," Lyra added, lowering her voice and subtly glancing toward Eiden.
Tilda caught it instantly. She turned to Eiden, eyeing him from head to toe with one brow raised and a mischievous half-smile.
"This the urgent matter you had to deal with?" she asked with teasing sarcasm. "Well, well… quite the piece. Almost as tasty as you are. When women have 'emergencies,' we mean business."
Lyra groaned, placing a hand over her face.
"Tilda, please…"
"What? I'm just saying what you're thinking, honey," Tilda replied with a bold wink, turning now to Eiden. "Hey, new guy. I'm Tilda. Don't break Lyra's heart… or I'll break something else."
Eiden gulped, unsure whether to laugh, blush, or flee.
"Nice to meet you, Tilda. I'm… Eiden," he said simply, lacing his tone with nervous politeness. But he made himself look her in the eyes, hoping to come across as sincere.
Tilda smiled wide… but after a few seconds, her smile slowly faded.
"That's it?" she asked, narrowing her eyes with a mix of amusement and disbelief. Then she turned theatrically to Lyra. "Good thing you didn't bring him for his conversation skills, sweetheart. I guess his tongue is busy with other things."
"TILDA!" Lyra shouted, more scandalized than angry, facepalming in exasperation.
Eiden, for his part, thought that if he'd been drinking something, he would've spat out every drop.
"Oh, come on," Tilda laughed hoarsely. "You're both still young. Though at your age, I'd already explored quite a few 'urgent matters'… if you know what I mean."
"We get it, Tilda. That's enough," Lyra intervened firmly, placing both hands on the woman's shoulders and gently pushing her back, as if trying to contain an oncoming storm.
"He's the one I've been looking for. Remember what we talked about a month ago?"
"Oh, right! About your poor parents…" Tilda recalled with a thoughtful look—though the uncomfortable grimace that flickered across Lyra's face told Eiden she wasn't exactly known for subtlety.
"In short…" Lyra said, lowering her voice a bit. "Today I'm dropping the bomb. I'm going to ask for full support from the leaders. I don't need all of them—just a few standing with me will be enough to…"
"…to stop Osric from locking you up and slitting your sweetheart's throat," Tilda finished in a sharp whisper, her tone now more serious than usual.
Lyra took a deep breath but nodded slightly. For a few seconds, both women seemed to understand each other in complete silence.
Eiden, for his part, was learning a lot from that conversation—though everything came in half-truths.
"This is going to get ugly," Tilda added. "But we need Vek… and maybe Saren."
"Yes, they'll both be a huge help," said Lyra, straightening up and regaining some of her usual composure.
"And Kai?" Tilda asked casually.
"Kai? Not a chance."
"Sure, the guy's a jerk," Tilda interrupted with a shrug, "but he'd jump from -1 if you asked him to."
"Forget it," Lyra cut in quickly. "Kai is not an option."
The way her eyes flicked to Eiden, even if only for a second, was brief but telling.
Tilda studied her carefully. Then she looked at Eiden and nodded slowly, as if pieces were finally falling into place.
"Definitely not an option," she said at last. "In fact, he's officially become a threat."
"I need to convince Cireya," Lyra said after a pause, as though speaking a burden out loud. "Everyone will assume you two are on my side…"
"And we are," Tilda affirmed, her tone serious now, dropping all playfulness. "But Cireya doesn't care about loyalty or sentiment. If you want her on your side… you'll need more than just a noble cause."
"I'm afraid so," Lyra admitted, her gaze dropping. Then she cast a quick glance toward the entrance. "For now, let's get out of here. I don't want to run into the Wisp again."
"Shit, they saw you walk in with your boyfriend," Tilda said, eyes going wide. "They'll tell that insufferable Nika, and Nika will tell Kai, and Kai will—"
"He's not my…! Please, Tilda, let's just go," Lyra pleaded, clearly exhausted.
"I feel for you, sweetheart," Tilda replied with a teasing grin, slinging an arm around Eiden's shoulders and dragging him along with unshakable confidence.
They crossed a wide circular atrium lined with pillars that rose like petrified trees. On each one, spiraling symbols—similar to the emblem of Solace—glowed faintly in amber. Between them, statues of ancient figures in ritual armor stood sentinel, their empty eyes giving the eerie sense of being watched.
Tilda greeted a few people with casual gestures, while Lyra ignored every reverence and greeting offered to her. Her mind was already focused on the upcoming meeting.
Eventually, they stopped before a pair of enormous, opaque steel doors, guarded by two soldiers in reinforced tactical suits—black plating with bluish accents. They held high-powered plasma rifles, and the Solace symbol—the circle with three intertwining spirals—gleamed on their chests.
"High Vesper Lyra, Umbral Tilda!" they greeted in unison, performing the traditional salute of fist to palm.
"Hey, darlings! We're here for the mind-numbingly boring leaders' meeting, and we brought this cutie with us," Tilda sang cheerfully, pointing at Eiden with exaggerated enthusiasm.
"A foreigner at a Solace core meeting?" one of the guards asked, raising a brow.
The other leaned in and whispered something in his ear. The first one visibly paled and stepped forward nervously.
"F-forgive me, honorable leaders… but we have strict orders from the Luminar… not to let the meeting stray from standard protocol…"
His words trailed off as Lyra's and Tilda's gazes darkened. Eiden could feel the weight in the air increase with every syllable the guard uttered, like the very oxygen was thickening.
"The difference," Tilda interrupted, her voice steady and calm, "is that if the Luminar are upset, they'll demote you. But if you upset me… there won't even be ashes left to bury."
As she spoke, a faint dancing flame flared to life around her fingers, wrapping them in a golden-red glow.
Eiden shivered. His bracelet buzzed violently on his wrist, sending a sharp warning—extreme threat detected.
Conclusion: Tilda was dangerously powerful.
The guard swallowed hard and backed away immediately.
With a low hum, the doors opened.
"Thank you, darlings! Stay obedient, just like that," Tilda chirped, returning to her usual playful tone as she walked between them.
Eiden noticed Lyra smiling faintly, shaking her head.
Once the doors shut behind them, total darkness swallowed the room.
Suddenly, a flame flickered to life on the wall—then another, and another—forming a glowing path that led to a smaller but equally solid door.
"Any last words, sweetheart?" Tilda asked, casting a sidelong glance at Eiden.
"Tilda…" Lyra sighed, somewhere between exasperation and resignation.
"I need karaage…" Eiden muttered, his stomach growling loudly, as if trying to distract him from the rising tension.
Tilda laughed heartily.
"Well, at least one of you knows what he wants," she teased.
They walked toward the illuminated door. Eiden and Lyra exchanged a glance. He gave her a reassuring smile. She answered with a knowing wink.
Then the doors opened.
And Eiden froze.
What he saw beyond left him utterly speechless.