"Head of the Arcane Council and Chancellor of the Academy," Marcus replied, his voice tight. "And not someone known for his gentle approach to anomalies."
Lyra nodded. "The Containment Team has orders to secure any dimensional breach and quarantine any entities that may have crossed over." She looked directly at Alan. "By any means necessary."
The implication was clear. "They're coming to capture me," Alan said. "Or worse."
"Why are you telling us this?" Marcus asked Lyra, suspicion evident in his tone. "Your loyalty is to the Academy."
"My loyalty is to knowledge and truth," she corrected. "And to those who taught me to value both." She glanced at Marcus meaningfully. "Something about this situation feels wrong. The Rift expansion, the Void incursions, the Academy's extreme response... and then there's him." She nodded toward Alan. "An outsider who can manipulate energy in ways I've never seen, who arrived at precisely this moment of crisis."
"You think they're connected," Alan surmised.
"I think there are too many coincidences," Lyra replied. "And I think rushing to contain or eliminate variables before understanding them is bad science and worse magic."
Marcus studied his former student with newfound respect. "So you've chosen to warn us instead of aiding the Containment Team. That's a significant risk to your position at the Academy."
Lyra shrugged, though Alan sensed the nonchalance was at least partly feigned. "I'm officially scouting ahead of the main investigation. No one questioned my initiative."
"What exactly does this Containment Team do?" Alan asked, concerned about the threat they posed.
"They're specialists in neutralizing magical threats," Lyra explained. "They carry artifacts designed to suppress magical abilities and can create containment fields that prevent energy manipulation of any kind."
"How many?" Marcus asked.
"Four. Led by Enforcer Drake Darkblade." Lyra's expression suggested this was significant.
Marcus cursed under his breath. "Shadowveil's personal attack dog. This is worse than I thought."
Alan looked between them, feeling increasingly uneasy. "I take it this Darkblade is dangerous?"
"He's ruthlessly efficient," Lyra confirmed. "And he has a particular dislike for anything he considers 'unnatural' in the magical order."
"Such as visitors from another reality," Alan concluded grimly.
"We need to reach Ironhammer before they catch up to us," Marcus decided. "The city's complex structure will make it easier to avoid detection, and I have contacts there who might help."
Lyra nodded. "The Containment Team will be slowed by the main evacuation route. You have perhaps a day's head start if you continue on the high paths."
"And what will you do?" Marcus asked her.
"Return to the main route and continue my 'scouting,'" she replied. "I can perhaps delay them further with reports of potential dangers requiring investigation."
Alan studied her, still not entirely convinced of her motives. "Why help us? You don't know me, and you clearly have reservations about my presence here."
Lyra met his gaze directly. "Because in the short time I've observed you, I've seen you use your strange powers to save villagers, not harm them. And because..." She hesitated. "Because the Void entities are specifically targeting you, which suggests you're important in ways we don't yet understand."
"Or dangerous," Alan pointed out.
"Perhaps both," she acknowledged. "But I'd prefer to understand before passing judgment. A courtesy the Containment Team won't extend."
The sun was now noticeably lower, casting long shadows across the wayshrine. "We should all continue our journeys," Marcus said. "Nightfall in the mountains brings its own dangers."
Lyra nodded in agreement. "There's a faster route to Ironhammer from here." She pointed to a narrow path leading around the mountain that they hadn't noticed before. "It's steeper but will save you hours. Look for the blue lichen on the rocks—it marks the safe path."
"Thank you," Marcus said sincerely. "Your actions today honor the teachings I tried to impart."
A brief smile crossed Lyra's face, softening her usually serious demeanor. "Just don't make me regret it, Master Raven." Her gaze shifted to Alan. "And you, Outsider—whatever you are, whatever brought you here... be careful with the powers you're discovering. In this world, energy responds to intention in ways you may not anticipate."
With that warning, she turned and headed back the way she had come, soon disappearing around a bend in the path.
"Can we trust her?" Alan asked once she was out of earshot.
Marcus considered the question. "Lyra has always valued truth above politics. If she says the Academy's response is unusual, I believe her." He looked toward the path she had indicated. "And we have little choice but to press on. If Darkblade is leading the Containment Team, we're in more danger than I initially thought."
They gathered their belongings and located the path Lyra had mentioned. It was indeed steeper and narrower than the one they had been following, barely visible in places except for the distinctive blue lichen growing on rocks along the way.
As they descended, the sun continued its journey toward the horizon, casting the mountains in golden light that gradually deepened to orange and red. The city of Ironhammer became more visible with each switchback of the path—an impressive feat of engineering carved directly into the mountainside, with terraced levels connected by bridges and staircases. Smoke rose from countless chimneys and forge vents, giving the city its name and distinctive appearance.
"We should reach the outer gates by dusk," Marcus estimated, pointing to the lowest level of the city where a massive stone archway marked the main entrance.
Alan nodded, trying to ignore the growing fatigue in his muscles and the persistent visual distortions from the mineral vapors. The cloth over his face helped, but the effects seemed to be accumulating the longer they remained in the mountains.
They had nearly reached the final descent when Alan noticed something odd about the path ahead. The blue lichen they had been following suddenly stopped, as if encountering an invisible boundary.
"Marcus," he called, pointing to the discontinuity.