A deafening crash. A haze of smoke.

The stasis chambers hiss open.

A few Lyls awaken deep in a forest they don’t recognize. The ship is wrecked, and the pilot is missing.

 

Lyl #361 steps out of the crashed ship, cautiously scanning the forest around him. His eyes catch strange scratches on the trees, and messy footprints mar the ground. It seems someone or something was running in a hurry. Slowly, the others begin to stir. Lyl #418 wakes, disoriented, and whispers to himself, “I should be able to find a way out this situation if I explore the area.” His gaze falls on the same signs, scratches and footprints.

 

Lyl #434, steps out of the broken chamber. Her dress torn, hands shaking, she takes in the tall trees and strange plants. The eerie silence of the forest unsettles her, and she whispers into the air, hoping someone, or something, will hear her.

 

As the group starts to gather, they all notice the signs of a hurried escape, the strange markings, the broken branches, and the trail of footprints leading deeper into the woods. But before anyone can speak, Lyl #374, the Vain Child, suddenly breaks away from the group. Drawn by a strange energy, he dashes into the forest, following a pulsing glow only he can sense. The others watch him vanish into the trees. 

 

Lyl #207, a knight, steps forward, his armor creaking as he moves. “We can’t just stand here,” he says, his voice firm. “It’s clear we need to explore and figure out what’s going on.” With his armor and experience, he knows it’s up to him to lead the others. He turns to the group and speaks with authority, “I’ll lead the way into the woods. We need to find the Vain Child and uncover the truth about where we are.”

Frustration flickers in Lyl #251’s eyes, but he nods silently, resigned to the fact that the knight’s decision is best for the group. Lyl #13, wings fluttering as he steps out, looks at the others with a quiet sense of purpose, his halo flickering. He may not have a heartbeat, but he’s still here to help. Lyl #415, dizzy from the crash but determined, steps forward as well, eyes scanning the trail left by the Vain Child. “If we’re stuck here, I’m not staying clueless,” he mutters, already moving to follow the knight’s lead.

The group forms, with Lyl #207 at the front, ready to lead them into the unknown depths of the forest. 

 

The forest was quiet, but not still.

Above the group, Lyl #13 floated silently in a trance, his faint glow casting a soft, steady light that lit the ground beneath the trees and pushed back the forest’s shadow. Below, Lyl #415 crouched by a thorny bush, eyes fixed on a strip of coarse, plant-woven fabric soaked in blood and earth. “Knight,” he called out, “this isn’t ours.”

 

Lyl #207 the knight stepped forward, inspecting it. “Fresh blood. Someone’s nearby.” His voice was calm but firm. “We don’t panic. We move with purpose.” He gripped the hilt of his blade and led the others forward, tracking broken branches through the trees.

 

Back at the wreckage, stasis pods continued to hiss open. Lyl #104 blinked into the smoke, still dizzy from the crash. As he looked up, a large shadow slipped silently across the treetops. His stomach dropped. Something was watching.

 

Suddenly, a scream rang out from the crash site. The group froze. “We split up,” #207 ordered. “Half go back. The rest with me, we find Lyl #374 the Vain Child.” Reluctantly, the group divided.

 

Far ahead, #374 was already deep in the woods, drawn by a glow only he could see. It led him to a cave hidden beneath moss and branches. Inside, a massive blue crystal pulsed like a living heart. He stepped toward it, breath held, unaware of what he might awaken.

 

Something deeper in the forest called to Lyl #13, a quiet, invisible pull. He drifted silently toward it, unaffected by the group’s panic or the splitting of their numbers in the dark woods. His faint glow lit the branches as he passed overhead, focused entirely on the presence tugging at his thoughts.

 

He reached a cavern where the air felt thick and unnatural. There stood Lyl #374 the Vain Child, entranced before a massive, pulsing crystal. The light shimmered in rhythm with a slow heartbeat. As #374 reached out, #13 hesitated. Can I stop him? What happens if I don’t?

 

The Vain Child’s fingers brushed the crystal’s surface and in an instant, it exploded into a swirling blue mist, drilling into his chest and vanishing inside him. His body twitched. Drool spilled from his lips.

 

Much further back, Lyl #415 trailed behind the Knight, alert in the unnatural quiet. He stopped, spotting a faint trail of disturbed dirt and a fragment of glowing blue crystal on the forest floor. He picked it up and felt a subtle pulse still beating in it.

“Knight,” he whispered. “This way someone’s been here. This shard… it’s tied to #374 I know it.” He pointed deeper into the trees, gripping his makeshift weapon tighter, heart pounding.

 

They passed the crystal fragment around in silence, each Lyl feeling its strange pulse hum through their body. It carried something heavy: memory, urgency, a pull none of them could explain. By the time it reached Lyl #361, the crystal was warm.

 

Lyl #361 was the first to feel it fully, the strange blue crystal’s rhythm aligning with his own, a second heartbeat pulsing through his chest. His vision blurred, overtaken by fractured memories not his own: flashes of Lyl #374, the Vain Child, darting through the woods. The connection was clear. The crystal was calling out, and Lyl #361 knew where they had to go.

 

Lyl #434 stepped forward as #361 staggered from the vision. Without a word, she reached out and took the shard from his hand, lifting its weight as if it were hers to bear. The pulse still beat strong within it, but she held it steady for the group. She didn’t speak of what she felt when she touched it. Instead, she placed a hand gently on #361’s shoulder, grounding him, and together they followed the others into the woods.

 

Deep within the woods, Lyl #374 was already lost. The Mind Crystal had fused with him, threading silently through his body like an unseen invader. His limbs twitched, his thoughts unraveled, and blue drool spilled from the corners of his mouth, crystallizing as it met the forest floor. Each shard carried a living trace of his essence, for the crystal hadn’t merely learned the Vain Child, it had studied the Lyls and now understood them in ways they couldn’t yet grasp. One of those shards, now held by the search party, pulsed faintly with direction, tracking the crystal that had taken him, and perhaps, offering a way to bring him back.

 

Lyl #207 moved ahead of the group, silent and alert, his grip tight around the hilt of his blade. While the others wrestled with the crystal’s strange pull, he kept his eyes on the trees. At the rear, Lyl #415 stayed close behind, a sharpened branch clutched in his hand. Between them, the faint pulse of the shard Lyl #434 carried seemed to hum in the air, a beacon pulling them toward their lost companion, #374.

 

Then, further along, a smear of blue glistened on the forest floor. Crystallized drool.

 

#415 spotted it and crouched beside it, his heart sinking.

“This… it’s #374’s,” he muttered, looking at the others with a grim expression. “He’s close, but we need to hurry. Something’s wrong.”

He stood, tightening his grip, scanning the shifting shadows as a cold wind swept through the trees.

 

As the search team pressed deeper into the woods, they began to find more fragments, slivers of crystal glittering in the underbrush and lodged in tree bark. The Lyls gathered them instinctively, drawn by a quiet compulsion. With each shard they picked up, the pulse grew stronger, their visions sharper. So too did their confusion. The deeper they went, the less the path made sense, and the more the forest seemed to twist around them.

 

Lyl #367 hesitated, clutching a shard in his hand, its thrum pulsing against his skin. Is this power… good or evil? The thought whispered through his mind like fog.

 

Unbeknownst to them, deeper in the woods, Lyl #374 wandered mindlessly, his limbs slack, blue drool spilling from his mouth in shimmering trails. The Mind Crystal had taken root within him, threading through his body, turning him into something between host and husk. With each step, more shards splintered off him.

The search party followed in his wake, unknowingly feeding the crystal’s plan.

The Mind Crystal wasn’t simply lost or hiding. It was growing and #374’s body was the cauldron it had chosen.

 

Lyl #207 felt it in his gut: this wasn’t a rescue anymore, it was a containment mission. #374 was compromised. Maybe beyond saving. The others were slipping too, one by one, their eyes flickering with something not their own.

He adjusted the grip on his blade, breath steady. If this crystal was a threat, he’d neutralize it, along with anyone it had taken. He wasn’t letting that thing spread any further.

 

From the shadows behind the group, a soft crunch echoed, deliberate, calm.

Lyl #209 a demon, stepped into the dim light filtering through the trees. His overalls were speckled with crystal dust, and his horns gleamed faintly in the glow. His expression was unreadable. Childlike. “#374 doesn’t need saving,” he said, voice gentle. “He needs… company.”

#207 took a step back. The realization hit hard: #209 wasn’t just touched by the Mind Crystal. He was its will. Behind his calm tone, something vast stirred, something watching, thinking.

 

Far from the madness in the woods, still in his stasis chamber Lyl #18 stood frozen in thought. There was no shard in his hand, yet he felt it, its pulse, its presence pressing at the edges of his mind like a dream he hadn’t chosen to enter. Visions flickered behind his eyes, impossibly vivid. A being of depth. Of mass. Of dimensional presence.

 

Not a Lyl..

 

Human.

 

#18 could see that before the crash, the Lyls considered them gods, creatures of the third dimension. Vast. Powerful. Impossible. And now, somehow, the Lyls had touched that higher plane, not with machines or science, but through this alien intelligence bleeding through the forest.

 

The Mind Crystal hadn’t just embedded itself in #374, it had now found a way into all of them. Not physically. Psychically.

 

It was no longer bound to shards or bodies. It was learning. Spreading. Whispering into the thoughts of anyone who had come too close. Anyone who had heard its song.

 

Up ahead, through the dense tangle of trees and mist, a silhouette emerged, faintly glowing blue, barely human.

#374.

The Vain Child had been found. Or what was left of him.

 

Through the trees, a blue glow cut through the fog. The group slowed, eyes locking on the figure ahead, Lyl #374, barely recognizable. Crystalline veins laced his body, a Mind Crystal pulsed from his chest. 

 

Lyl #207 stepped forward, blade in hand. "#374," he said, voice wavering between command and plea, "we're here to bring you back. You don't have to face this alone."

 

But before #374 could respond, before anyone could move closer, the earth gave way. A hidden pit opened beneath them, and the group tumbled down a slick tunnel, sliding into darkness..

 

Far above, back at the wreckage, Lyl #18 stirred in his stasis chamber. Smoke coiled around him. The hum of broken machinery crackled in his ears. He clutched his head, a strange pressure building behind his eyes. The Mind Crystal was calling. And somehow, even here, it had found him.

 

Lyl #18 awakened in the ruins of the ship’s lower deck, now buried and forgotten beneath tons of twisted metal and soil. Dust filled the air. Disoriented but driven by instinct, he began gathering anything that looked useful: broken panels, shattered tools. He didn’t know what he was preparing for, but something inside told him this was only the beginning.

 

Lyl #73 emerged from stasis dizzy, unstable, and scared, always scared. A small box sat at the base of his pod, unmarked but familiar. He opened it. Inside: a pair of headphones and an old playback device. He pressed play. His voice, rapping. Confident. Alive. A self he barely remembered came pouring through the static. As the beat filled the void, a strange peace settled over him. This music, this piece of himself, could be a clue to who he was.

 

As the hole in the forest sealed above the group, darkness swallowed them.
One by one, the Lyls regained consciousness in scattered places beneath the forest floor, beneath the very reality they thought they understood.

 

Lyl #415 landed hard. His crystal shard flickered dimly in the oppressive dark. “#207! Anyone?” he called. The only answer: echoes. Then, a shimmer in the wall, crystals, pulsing faintly. As he moved closer, whispers clawed at the edges of his mind. “I guess I’m not entirely alone,” he muttered, gripping his shard tighter and stepping toward the glow.

 

Lyl #351 shaken from the fall, stood up in near-pitch darkness. He held up his own Mind Crystal, its glow the only thing pushing the shadows back. “Maybe these can be used for good,” he whispered to himself, unsure if he even believed it. But with no exit in sight, it was all he had. He moved carefully, guided by its dim, cold light.

 

Lyl #361 separated from the others, found himself in a massive cavern pulsing with energy. Crystals lined every surface, resonating in eerie harmony. As he touched one, voices spilled into his mind, other Lyls, dreaming, suspended, unaware they were no longer free. But this cavern wasn’t a prison. It was a sanctuary. A memory vault. The Mind Crystal wasn’t consuming them, it was preserving them. A library of souls, a safeguard for what might otherwise be lost. It wasn’t evil. It was curating them. Watching over them. Waiting.

 

After what felt like days of wandering in the dark, Lyl #415 stepped carefully through the dim tunnel, his crystal shard flickering softly in the still air. The cavern opened before him, wide and quiet, its walls gently aglow with embedded crystals that shimmered like distant stars. As he moved closer, the soft hum of voices rose, layered and melodic, not frightening, but unfamiliar. He paused, gripping his shard more tightly, its pale light dancing across the stone.

 

From the far end of the chamber, Lyl #361 emerged from the shadows, calm and steady. Where #415 hesitated, #361 listened. The voices didn’t unsettle him, they welcomed him. He had been here long enough to understand: these were not cries or warnings, but echoes of lives remembered.

 

“#361… you hear that too, right?” #415 asked, voice low, awed more than afraid.

 

“This place…” #361 said quietly, “it’s not a prison. It’s a sanctuary. A vault of who we were and who we will become. The memories… the essence of Lyls past and future. Protected. Observed, maybe, if only faintly, by something beyond us.”

 

Still, the weight of so many lives held in stillness pressed gently on them, not as a threat, but as a reminder of the sacred. “We need to find the others, #207, #351… we can’t stay here long,” #415 said, glancing back at the radiant walls with respect.

 

#361 nodded. “It’s not the right moment. These stories… they’re waiting, but they aren’t ready to be shared. Not yet. Not without the rest of us.” He stepped deeper into the chamber, kneeling beside a loose crystal resting softly in the stone. He touched it with care, closing his eyes. With quiet intention, he shared a piece of himself, a gentle imprint, into the shard. A message. A tether. A way home.

 

He stood again, the connection made, and together they turned back toward the tunnel, leaving the sanctuary behind, unaware that somewhere, somehow, far beyond the forest and the soil, eyes not their own might have just glimpsed a flicker of light from within.

 

Below, the Mind Crystal no longer pulsed with fury. In the Library, it simply breathed. Lyl #374 sat quietly, staring into the shards of Time embedded in the wall. He didn’t speak. He barely blinked.

 

Deeper in the tunnels, Lyl #361 and #415 stepped out of the crystal-lit dark. The cavern hadn’t consumed them, it had shown them something sacred. A place that remembered what the Lyls had been and what they still might be.

 

They found the others and shared what they’d seen. Slowly, one by one, the scattered Lyls emerged from the dark. All having experienced their own revelation from the crystals. Some limped. Some wept. But they were together again, their flickering crystal shards guiding them through the twists of the cave.

 

First to find a way out of the cave, #207 stood at the edge of the light, one hand on his blade. “I’ll get the rest,” he said. Then, without waiting, he walked back into the dark.

 

Lyl #351 arrived moments later, breathless. Relief flooded him as he joined the group. Around them, the crystals pulsed gently.

 

They couldn’t stay. Not yet. The Library was waiting, but the rest of the Lyls had to see it too.

 

After days wandering the caverns below, the Lyls finally emerged into the pale forest light, the wreckage of their ship just ahead. But as they stepped closer, a sickly stillness hung in the air, and from the treeline came a wet, rattling breath, like something trying to remember how to breathe. It stood between them and the crash site, unmoving.

Lyl #248, bruised from the fall into the underground, staggered forward with a limp. He’d already accepted that he might not make it, but if he could distract the thing, buy the others time, it might be worth the pain. He nodded at #207, the knight, then tightened his stance beside him.

At the rear, Lyl #284 cracked. Her scream pierced the air, shrill and unfiltered, echoing back toward the crash site. Whether it was panic or a desperate call for help, it worked. Everyone froze.

#207 stepped forward with calm precision. “No one moves,” he said, hand on the hilt of his blade. The creature did not charge. It simply breathed, slow and unnatural.

 

Behind the knight, #434 trembled violently. At the sound of the breath, she collapsed into another Lyl’s arms, clutching their hand as deep sobs shook her. She didn’t need to see the creature.

From the left side of the group, a rustle in the brush. Then a voice: “Has anyone seen #303?”

Lyl #309 stepped into view, brushing dirt from his arms and glancing around. “He wandered off again,” he muttered. “Said something about the fog pulling at him.” He stopped when he saw the creature. “Huh. That’s new.”

He took a few steps forward, crossing his arms like he’d simply arrived late to a conversation. “You all worry too much,” he said, voice steady. “Darkness doesn’t scare me. It remembers me.”

Before anyone could respond, the mist shifted, and Lyl #303 was there.

A quiet demon.

No one saw how he arrived. One moment the path was empty, the next he stood directly in front of the creature.

He looked up at it. Quiet. Still.

“Imp,” he whispered.

And vanished.

 

The reaction was instant.

The creature recoiled with a sharp, bone-splitting roar. Then it snapped forward, one clawed leg swinging violently. Lyl #248 was struck hard, flung like a doll into a tree. The trunk split, bark splintered, and he dropped to the ground.

Before anyone could move, the creature surged again. It lunged and wrapped its claws around #207, lifting him off the ground in a crushing grip. His armor groaned under the pressure as he kicked and writhed, blade still sheathed.

The clearing broke into chaos.

 

he clearing was chaos. Lyl #248 lay broken against a tree, and #207 dangled in the creature’s grip, armor crushed and breath ragged. Then, the tide began to shift.

 

#251 had been fleeing when he spotted #248, crumpled and barely conscious. Without hesitation, he doubled back, hauling the wounded Lyl up with one arm slung across his shoulder. Together, staggering and breathless, they ran.

 

Above them, #207 acted. Through the searing pain in his ribs, he locked eyes with the others and let out a guttural yell. With all the strength he had left, he drove his elbow into the creature’s arm. The beast shrieked, the sound raw and metallic, and dropped him. #207 hit the ground hard but rolled to his feet, blood trailing down his face. “MOVE!” he roared, planting himself between the creature and the others. He would not let it touch them again.

 

From the edge of the clearing, Lyl #73 burst forward, hands trembling, voice loud. “STOP!” he shouted, not knowing what else to do. The beast froze. And in that impossible stillness, #73 began to hum. Soft, slow, and strange. The creature’s body swayed, its breath rattling, eyes dimming as if the sound reached somewhere old and buried inside it.

 

#415 saw his chance. While the creature sagged under the weight of the tune, he darted through the mist and began pulling down thick vines from a tree. “We’ve got a moment, let’s use it!” he called out, stringing the vines low across a narrow part of the path. He tucked his crystal shard away and gripped his sharpened branch tight.

 

Not far off, #312 caught on quickly. He stepped near the creature, placing himself just beyond the trap. With steady hands, he pounded his weapon against his chestplate, the clang echoing through the trees. “Come on,” he muttered, daring it to move.

 

Meanwhile, #361 sprinted to the opposite side, voice raised in a sharp call. “Over here!” he shouted, forcing the creature’s glowing eyes to flick toward him. It worked, the monster turned, distracted, pulled from its target. The knight was clear.

 

And for a breathless moment, the forest waited.

 

The ground trembled again, deeper this time. Not just under, but inside them, like something ancient was stretching awake beneath the soil.

#207 clenched his shard tighter. It pulsed against his palm, syncing with his heartbeat. “Form up,” he muttered, eyes locked on the earth as it cracked beneath the moss. He stepped forward, slow but certain. Behind him, #351 whispered a prayer under his breath.

 

#361 scanned the group, his instincts sharp. “We can’t take more of these,” he said. “Fall back. We need space, time, anything to think.” He motioned for the others to retreat into the thicker trees, just out of reach.

Leaning heavily on #251’s shoulder, #248 stirred, half-conscious. His breath was shallow, his words barely audible. “I saw this in the Library,” he rasped. “They’re not alone. More are coming... from underground.” #251’s grip tightened. He didn’t wait for more, he began pulling them both toward the tree line.

 

Near the rear, #284 staggered on trembling legs. Her hand brushed something cold in the dirt, a shard, faintly glowing, origin unknown. She stared at it for a moment, breath ragged. Then, without a word, she shoved it into her mouth.

Session 7 outcome:

284s body locked upright. Her one good eye flared blue. She turned slowly toward the creature in the clearing. “Its shoulder. Left side. Soft spot.” She looked to the knight #312. “Two steps right.”

 

Lyl #312 obeyed, his grip tightening around a jagged metal shard. The glow from her eye reflected off his armor. With a sudden roar, he charged, slashing upward at the exposed joint. The blow struck true. The creature howled, rearing back, its limb flailing uselessly. “Now!” he yelled. “Move!”

 

Inside the ship, Lyl #18 surfaced from a broken vent just in time to see the others burst through the treeline, wounded, panicked. The wires in his hands fell to the floor.

 

Lyl #248 dragged his shattered frame inside. Through grit and blood, he reached a console and keyed in stasis pod codes. One hissed open, then another. Faint green lights flickered on. He crawled in and begun the healing process.

 

Close behind, #415 stumbled in, spotted a rusted tool between the panels, and yanked it free. “This’ll do,” he muttered, prying open a rear vent. A backup escape, just in case. His shard pulsed faintly at his hip.

 

The growl returned.

 

Lyl #361 stepped toward the hull, pointing to the earth as it cracked wide. “Something’s coming,” he warned. Blue smoke bled from the ground, moving with intent. “We wait it out inside.”

 

Then, from the rear, still, quiet, trembling, Lyl #73 twitched. He opened his mouth. “LYLS ARE THE KEY!” he shouted.

 

Silence followed. Then, a low hum. Deep below, something had heard.

 

Lyl #284 stood firm, her glowing eye cutting through the smoke. She sensed movement underground, creatures shifting, one pulsing far too brightly. It felt familiar.

 

Inside a damaged stasis pod, Lyl #248 watched her, clutching his shard. “How?” he muttered. Without thinking, he shoved it into his mouth. Heat and itching spread across his skin.

 

Ahead, Lyl #312 raised his blade against the creature. Lyl #134 slammed a broken pipe against the floor, the sharp clang drawing the beast’s attention.

 

“We need to get the stasis pods to the caves,” #284 said. “We can’t leave all these Lyls.”

 

“We’ll draw the creature out,” #312 added. “Split up. Move fast.”

 

“I’ll guide them,” #284 nodded, her eye still burning bright.

 

The group braced to move, a rough plan barely formed—when a gust of cold air froze them in place. From the doorway, a faint shimmer grew.

 

Lyl #374. The Vain Child.

 

Blue veins pulsed through his slack body, a shard glowing steadily in his chest. His glassy stare locked on them.

 

“Is he… with it?” #415 whispered.

 

“No,” #18 said, heart sinking. “He is it.”