The blast caught the two off guard, a deafening roar that sent Terris flying back against the hallway wall. Disoriented and ringing in the ears, he scrambled to his feet, his gaze frantically searching for Sylva. He spotted her crumpled against the opposite wall, a groan escaping her lips as she stirred.
"Sylva!" he cried, rushing to her side. Kneeling beside her, he gently shook her arm. Her eyes fluttered open, dazed and confused.
"What... what happened?" she mumbled, her voice thick with shock.
Terris helped her to her feet, concerned with etching lines on his face. "There was an explosion," he explained, his voice a low growl. "Are you alright?"
Sylva, fueled by a primal urge, stumbled toward the smoking apartment door. Reality crashed over her as she peered through the gap, flames licking hungrily at the interior. "Ma! Pa!" she screamed, the raw terror in her voice echoing down the hallway.
No answer came.
Panic surged through her, momentarily amplifying her Psi. Ignoring the heat licking at her exposed skin, she shoved past Terris, her only focus the inferno before her. Terris, with a desperate yell, lunged after her.
He grabbed her arm just as she reached the doorway, pulling her back. "Sylva, it's too dangerous!" he roared over the inferno's roar.
Tears streamed down Sylva's face, a harrowing mix of fear and determination. "We have to help them!"
Terris knew arguing would be futile. Instead, he grabbed a nearby fire extinguisher from the hallway and blasted the flames around the door, creating a temporary barrier. "We need to get the fire under control first," he yelled, already strategizing.
Then, a flicker at the edge of his vision snagged his attention. A splash of pale against the inferno – a hand, definitely a woman's hand, protruding from the wreckage just inside the flaming doorway. His heart hammered a frantic rhythm against his ribs, adrenaline flooding his system. Without a second thought, he launched himself towards the small kitchen at the far end of the smoke-choked hallway. Every labored breath felt like sandpaper scraping against his lungs, but the urgency propelled him forward.
Reaching the sink, he yanked the faucet handle free with a satisfying wrench. Disregarding the scalding heat that radiated from the pipes, he twisted it, willing water to burst forth. A sputter, a cough, then a glorious torrent gushed out, spraying him with a welcome wave of coolness. Gripping the makeshift hose tightly, he aimed the powerful stream at the base of the flames that licked closest to the trapped hand. The fire hissed back in defiance, momentarily subdued but not extinguished. But at least, for now, the woman had a pocket of precious breathing room.
As the water doused the flames, a plume of hissing steam erupted, momentarily obscuring the hand. Terris didn't hesitate. With a surge of adrenaline-fueled strength, he barreled towards the debris, the heat a tangible wall against his face. Ignoring the scorching breath singeing his lungs, he plunged into the wreckage. Smoke swirled around him, acrid and thick, clawing at his eyes. Through the haze, he saw a figure, half-buried under the burning remains.
He tore into the debris with a ferocity born of desperation. Burning wood splintered under his superhuman grip, metal twisted like flimsy wire. Each cough that wracked his body was a testament to the inferno he was battling. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he managed to clear a path and pull the woman free.
The woman emerged, a coughing, disoriented mess. Soot smeared her face, her hair singed and smoldering. Terris, his own clothes singed and smelling faintly of burning rubber, laid her gently down the hallway a safe distance from the dwindling flames.
His heart pounded a frantic rhythm against his ribs as he turned to Sylva. Her face, pale and drawn, was a mask of raw despair. The scream that tore from her throat wasn't a sound of surprise, but of pure, unadulterated anguish. It was a primal cry of loss that echoed through the smoke-filled hallway.
Sylva dropped to her knees beside the woman, her hands trembling as she cradled her mother's face. She called out her name, a desperate plea laced with a sliver of hope that defied the circumstances. But the woman didn't respond. Her eyelids remained stubbornly shut, her breaths shallow and erratic.
Terris, his own grief momentarily pushed aside by the urgency of the situation, rushed to Sylva's side. He drew on his years of battlefield medicine, the knowledge a grim weight in his stomach. Together, they worked in a desperate ballet against the ever-ticking clock. Sylva administered chest compressions, her movements jerky and frantic. Terris took over, his voice a steady counterpoint to the crackling flames, guiding her through the process.
Minutes bled into an agonizing hour. The air grew thick with the stench of smoke and burnt flesh. Terris finally stopped, his face etched with a grim finality. He placed a hand on Sylva's shoulder, the weight of his touch heavy with unspoken words. He looked into her eyes, searching for a spark, a flicker of hope. But there was nothing. Her mother's eyes remained lifeless, reflecting only the dying embers of the fire.
Defeat settled over them like a shroud, a suffocating weight that mirrored the devastation etched on Sylva's face. The scream that had torn from her throat earlier was replaced by a chilling silence, a profound emptiness that spoke volumes more than any cry ever could.
But just as despair threatened to consume them, a gasp pierced the heavy silence. Sylva's mother, weak and soot-covered, drew a ragged breath. Relief washed over them, a bittersweet tide amidst the tragedy.
"Mom?" Sylva choked out, her voice barely a whisper. Her mother's eyelids fluttered open, revealing a sliver of blue clouded by confusion.
"Sylva?" Her voice was a hoarse rasp. "What... what happened?"
Tears welled up in Sylva's eyes again, but this time they were laced with a flicker of hope. "There was a fire, Mom. Terris pulled you out."
Terris, his own relief evident in the softening of his jawline, knelt beside them. "You're safe now. We'll get you to a doctor."
A weak cough wracked her mother's body. "My chest... it hurts."
Terris placed a hand over her sternum, his brow furrowing in concern as he felt for a pulse. "Just rest, we'll take care of everything." He closed his eyes, focusing his energy. A faint green glow emanated from his hands, a testament to his channeling of Psi to ease her pain and promote healing.
The shrill screech of the smoke alarm cut through the tense silence, a harsh reminder of the danger they had narrowly escaped. Flames continued to lick hungrily at the apartment door, a grotesque echo of the inferno they had just battled.
Sylva watched, a newfound determination hardening her gaze. They had faced death tonight, and emerged with a single, precious victory. She wouldn't let this break her. Not anymore.
The building door creaked open, billowing thick smoke into the hallway. Firefighters, clad in protective gear, swarmed the scene, their voices a symphony of urgency. Terris helped Sylva lift her mother, maneuvering them carefully towards the stairway.
By the time emergency vehicles converged upon the scene, flashing lights painting the night with an unsettling glow, Sylva was already tending to her mother amidst the shocked and frightened neighbors who had gathered in the hallway. The investigation into the explosion would begin soon, the acrid scent of smoke a lingering reminder of the devastation. But for now, all they had was the chilling silence of loss for those they couldn't save, and the tenuous flicker of life they had managed to snatch from the jaws of the fire. It was a fragile victory, but a victory nonetheless.
Eodor skidded to a halt in front of Sylva, concern etched on his face. "Terris said you were alright," he said, relief flooding his voice. "Thank heavens."
Terris, hovering nearby with a grim expression, offered a curt nod. "She's okay, physically."
Sylva managed a weak smile, tears glistening on her lashes. "I am, thanks to Terris."
Eodor's gaze darted towards the chaos behind them. Smoke billowed from broken windows, and yellow tape cordoned off the area. Ambulances screamed away, sirens wailing a mournful song.
"What happened?" he whispered, his voice tight.
Sylva took a shaky breath. "There was an explosion when we arrived. My father… he…" Her eyes welled up again.
Eodor's jaw clenched. "Cowards."
Sylva squeezed her eyes shut, the memory of the terror flashing in her mind. The shattering glass, screams echoing in the hallway, the blind panic that gripped her. But a nagging thought wormed its way through the fog, a thought that made her feel cold all over.
"Eodor," she whispered, her voice barely audible.
He crouched down before her, his gaze unwavering. "Anything, Sylva."
"Maybe it wasn't random," she mumbled, the guilt a heavy weight on her chest. "With my work, my speeches... What if they were a message? Targeting my family to silence me?"
Eodor's frown deepened. "That's a dangerous thought, Sylva. There's no evidence –"
"But is there anything to disprove it?" she interrupted, her voice trembling. "These attacks started right after I began speaking out more forcefully."
Terris stepped forward, his voice gruff but calming. "Sylva, it's too early to speculate. Let the authorities investigate. They'll find who did this."
Sylva looked between them, a storm of emotions churning within her. The possibility that her activism had put her family in danger terrified her. Yet, she couldn't ignore the chilling coincidence.
Eodor squeezed her hand gently. "Don't let them win, Sylva. They want to silence your voice. But we won't let them. They may have gotten lucky this time, but they won't break you."
He was right. This wasn't the time for fear. It was the time for resolve. Taking a deep breath, Sylva wiped away a tear and met Eodor's gaze. "You're right," she said, her voice gaining strength. "This doesn't end here. It only makes it more important."
Eodor smiled, a hint of admiration in his eyes. "That's the Sylva I know."
Together, they sat on the steps, the destruction a stark reminder of the fight ahead. But with Terris and Eodor by her side, Sylva knew she wouldn't face it alone. The fight for a better future had just gotten a whole lot more personal.
Terris surveyed the wreckage of the apartment with a grim expression. Smoke still curled from the shattered windows, a sickly sweet scent clinging to the air. "We should head back to the Lysseus estate, Sylva," he said finally. "We shouldn't stay out here for long, but at least we'll have some security."
Sylva stood motionless, staring into the charred remains of what used to be her family's haven. Her face was pale and drawn, streaked with dried tears. Eodor, ever the observant one, noticed the way her hand trembled as she gripped the worn strap of her purse.
"I agree," Eodor chimed in, placing a hand gently on her shoulder. "It's a lot safer back there, plus I'll tighten up more House Guards for security."
The silence in the limousine on the way back to the estate stretched like a taut wire. Terris and Eodor exchanged worried glances, neither knowing the right words to bridge the chasm of grief that separated them from Sylva.
Finally, Terris reached across the console and squeezed her hand. "Sylva," he began, his voice low and full of empathy, "your father... he wouldn't have wanted you to..." He trailed off, unable to finish the comforting cliché that tasted like ashes in his mouth.
Sylva lifted her head, her eyes clouded with a storm of emotions. "Vengeance," she whispered, surprising them both with the raw intensity of her voice.
Terris frowned. "Sylva, that won't –"
"No," she interrupted, her voice firming with each word. "You're right, Terris. Vengeance won't bring him back. But it will send a message. A message that says they can't silence us with violence."
Eodor, impressed by her newfound resolve, interjected. "That's the spirit, Sylva. Finding the culprits is the first step. We'll make them pay for what they did."
Sylva turned to face him, a spark of defiance igniting in her eyes. "That's not enough," she stated, her voice gaining strength. "Finding them is just the beginning. We need to understand why. Who could have possibly benefited from this?"
Terris considered this, a flicker of admiration replacing his worry. "That's a good point. We can start by digging into your father's political enemies, along with the senate, investigating any recent threats or suspicious activity."
Sylva nodded, a ghost of her old fire flickering back. "And I have contacts," she added, a hint of something dangerous creeping into her voice. "People outside the official channels who might know something. People who wouldn't hesitate to help me find the ones who did this."
Terris's eyes narrowed. "Be careful, Sylva," he warned. "Revenge can be a dangerous path. Once you step onto it, it's hard to turn back."
Sylva met his gaze with a steely glint. "I understand the risks," she said, her voice unwavering. "But fear won't stop me. My father's death only strengthens my resolve. They may have taken him, but they haven't silenced me. Not yet."
As the limousine sped towards the Lysseus estate, a heavy silence settled once more. But this time, it wasn't a silence of grief, but a tense anticipation.
When they arrived, the sprawling estate seemed a cruel mockery of the devastation they had just witnessed. The Duchess, ever the picture of grace under pressure, was the first one to emerge from the grand entrance. Her eyes, filled with concern, immediately found Sylva.
"Oh my dear Sylva, I'm so sorry!" she exclaimed, rushing forward and enveloping Sylva in a warm embrace. The news had spread like wildfire, and the Duchess, with her keen political instincts, knew exactly what had transpired.
Sylva, drained and emotionally raw, clung to the Duchess for a moment. The warmth offered a stark contrast to the chilling emptiness that had settled within her. Tears, long held back, spilled freely down her cheeks.
The Duke, ever the stoic leader, emerged soon after. His face, etched with a deep scowl, reflected the raw anger simmering beneath the surface. "Attacking right after a Senate hearing?" he boomed, his voice echoing across the courtyard. "These bastards have no shame!"
The assembled butlers and maids instinctively lowered their heads, their faces etched with a mixture of fear and grim understanding. The Duke's anger, however, wasn't directed at them.
"I'm already in talks with the Minister of Security," he continued, his voice regaining a semblance of control. "Forensics, as expected, found traces of Vironium in the explosive residue. That points to someone within the Senate, someone with access to restricted materials."
Terris, who had been a silent observer throughout the exchange, stepped forward. "Vironium, milord? That's a rare and volatile element. Difficult to acquire, even for someone within the Senate."
The Duke nodded grimly. "Indeed. There are very few who possess the knowledge and resources to handle it safely, let alone weaponize it. The investigation will be thorough, but this narrows down our circle of suspects considerably."
Sylva, her voice barely a whisper, finally spoke up. "Do you think... could it be Vyskriegg benefactors within the Senate?"
The Duchess, her hand still gently caressing Sylva's arm, offered a comforting smile. "It's certainly a possibility, my dear. But who truly would go this far for it, I am uncertain. But until the investigation reveals more, we can't jump to conclusions."
A heavy silence descended upon them, broken only by the distant wail of approaching sirens. The weight of their mission, the knowledge of a hidden enemy within their own ranks, pressed down on them all. The fight for the Commonwealth, it seemed, had just taken a sinister turn.
Later that night, the heavy oak door of Sylva's chamber clicked shut behind her, a finality to the sound that echoed in the vast emptiness of the hallway. Tears, the ones she had desperately fought back at the dining table, finally spilled over, tracing hot tracks down her pale cheeks. Inside her room, the familiar scent of lavender did little to soothe the storm raging in her heart. Grief, a suffocating weight, constricted her chest. Her father, the pillar of strength and guidance, was gone.
She sank onto her bed, clutching onto her worn out picture. Memories flickered through her mind: her father's booming laugh, his gentle invisible hand on her shoulder when she delivered her first fiery speech in the Senate chambers, his unwavering support for her fight for Vyskriegg's better future. Now, that support was a silent echo in the halls of time.
A low knock on the door startled her out of the reverie. "Sylva?" It was Eodor's voice, laced with concern.
Wiping away the tears hastily, Sylva called out, "Come in."
The door creaked open, revealing Eodor's broad frame and worried expression. "Sylva," he began, his voice hesitant, "we just wanted to check on you. Terris is worried too."
Sylva forced a smile, though it felt brittle on her lips. "I appreciate it, Eodor. It's just..." she trailed off, unable to articulate the torrent of emotions swirling within her.
Eodor entered the room and sat on the edge of the bed, a respectful distance from her. "You don't have to go through this alone," he said gently. "Your father... he was a good man, Sylva. He wouldn't want you to shoulder this burden by yourself."
Sylva closed her eyes, taking a deep, shuddering breath. "I know," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. "But everything feels so... uncertain now. The Senate, Vyskriegg, the fight against the empire... it all seems so meaningless without him."
Eodor reached out and placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. "Sylva, your father's death doesn't diminish the importance of your cause. In fact, it makes it even more crucial. He believed in you, in your vision for a better future for Vyskriegg. Now, more than ever, you have to fight for it, to honor his memory."
His words struck a chord within Sylva. A flicker of the old fire ignited in her eyes. She looked up at Eodor, a newfound resolve hardening her features. "You're right, Eodor. My father wouldn't want me to give up. This attack, whoever is behind it, is meant to silence me. But they won't."
A glint of determination lit up Eodor's eyes. "Then let's figure it out together. We'll find the ones who did this, Sylva. We'll make them pay. Goodnight."
Sylva watched Eodor leave, a flicker of appreciation for her comrades chasing away the hollowness that gnawed at her. Sorrow may have struck a powerful blow, shattering her world in its wake, yet it had not subdued her spirit. On the contrary, it had fortified her determination. The fire of grief had been tempered into a steely resolve. With Eodor and Terris by her side, loyal companions forged in the crucible of hardship, she would unearth the truth behind her father's demise. She would bring those responsible to justice, exacting vengeance for his untimely end. But her purpose extended beyond retribution.