Lyra's POVA sharp chill bit into Lyra’s bare feet as she crept through the darkness, clutching her thin, tattered blanket close to her chest. The air was heavy and damp, lingering with the earthy scent of the river that lay just beyond the pack’s territory. She hugged the blanket tighter around her bruised arms, hurrying down the narrow path that twisted away from the cell and into the woods. Every step sent pain lancing up her legs, but she pushed forward, guided by the soft glow of moonlight and the thought of the cold, cleansing water waiting for her.This place was her only sanctuary. Her only escape, even if it was only for a few minutes, before dawn would force her back to the pack house.The icy river stung as she stepped into it, sending a shiver through her battered body. She leaned down, splashing the water over her face and rubbing it into her arms, scrubbing away the dirt, blood, and grime left over from another day’s work - and another day’s beating.But some marks couldn
Lyra's POVLyra moved quietly through the banquet hall, head down, doing her best to go unnoticed. Tonight was her eighteenth birthday, though no one knew - or cared. In her world, birthdays weren’t celebrated. They were just another reminder that she was alone.She could hear laughter and music echoing through the hall, a stark reminder of the life she was excluded from. Her hand shook slightly as she cleared plates, but she pushed her emotions down, focusing on her tasks. It was just another night. She had learned not to expect anything more.“Happy birthday, Lyra.” A gentle voice echoed in her mind. Stronger this time. Louder.Lyra stilled, surprised. Her wolf, a spirit that had always felt more like a dream than reality, had only recently begun to speak to her. Lyra was grateful for her presence, but also confused; she didn’t even know her wolf’s name“Thank you… I didn’t know you could talk to me like this,” Lyra thought back, feeling a strange warmth. “Do you have a name?”“My na
Lyra's POVLyra’s body lay sprawled on the cold, hard cot in her cell. She could feel herself drifting in and out of consciousness, caught in a haze of pain and darkness. Her skin burned, her muscles ached, and every breath seemed to bring fresh waves of agony.A soft light appeared as the door to the cell creaked open. The healer, a kind-faced woman named Evelyn, stepped inside, her brows drawn in sorrow as she looked down at Lyra’s beaten form. Kneeling beside her, Evelyn worked silently, pulling out cloths and ointments from her bag. With gentle hands, she began to clean Lyra’s wounds, her fingers careful around the worst cuts.“Evelyn crouched beside her, setting down a small lantern that cast a dim, comforting light into the dark cell. Her hands worked with practiced tenderness, gently brushing Lyra’s hair back from her bruised face. Lyra felt the healer’s touch and blinked, trying to focus, but the ache of her injuries weighed heavily on her."Oh, child…” came a voice, soft and s
KANE'S POVKane leaned back in the leather seat of the sleek black SUV as it sped down the winding forest road. The trees blurred past, casting shadows that stretched and shifted in the evening light, but his focus was elsewhere, a low, instinctual feeling thrumming beneath the surface. He could feel it - a strange pull, a silent hum at the edge of his awareness. Something was waiting for him at Blackstone, something more than just another formal visit to oversee pack relations.Beside him, his commander and close friend, Thorne, studied him with a curious look.“You look tense,” Thorne observed, a small grin lifting the corner of his mouth. “Rare for you. Worried about the Blackstone Pack?”Kane gave a low chuckle, his eyes still fixed out the window. “Not worried. Just… prepared.”Thorne raised an eyebrow. “Prepared? This pack is known for its devotion to you and your father. They’re on their best behavior, eager to stay in our good graces.”“That’s exactly what bothers me,” Kane mut
Kane's POVKane’s arms tightened instinctively around Lyra as he carried her down the hall, her limp form barely stirring against his chest. Her skin was cold, her breathing faint but steady, and he could feel every scar, every bruise, as he held her close. Each mark on her skin seemed to sear into his own, fueling a fury that made it nearly impossible to keep his Lycan from taking over completely.They arrived at the guest quarters, and Kane shot a pointed look at the pack servants hovering nearby. “Prepare a room. I want it spotless and warm, and I want it now.”One servant nodded quickly, darting ahead to open the door to one of the best guest rooms in the house. Kane entered, lowering Lyra carefully onto the bed, brushing a tangled strand of hair away from her face. She looked so small, so fragile, lying there against the crisp sheets. His heart twisted, both in protectiveness and outrage.“Penelopa,” he called, signaling his own healer. She stepped forward, her expression calm yet
Aiden POVAiden stood at the edge of the grand hall, watching from the shadows as the Lycan Prince strode through the pack house with an air of authority that had everyone’s attention. It had been less than a day since the Prince’s arrival, and already, everything had changed.But the change that bothered him the most? The way Prince Kane had reacted to her.Lyra.Aiden clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palms as he recalled the humiliating scene earlier. Kane, the almighty Lycan Prince, had found her broken and bleeding in the cells beneath the pack house. There had been a flicker of shock, then fury in the Prince’s eyes when he realized what had been done to her.Why did it bother him so much? Why did Lyra matter to a Prince?Aiden shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts, but the image of her haunted him. He’d thought he was done with her. He’d rejected her for a reason - she was beneath him, an Omega, a nobody. But seeing her fragile form, seeing her clinging to lif
Aiden's POVAiden paced furiously in his quarters, his fists clenched, his thoughts tangled. Every fiber of his being, every nerve, screamed for him to act, to reclaim what had been taken from him. His wolf stirred restlessly inside him, snarling with frustration." She’s ours. How could you let him touch her?"The sharp reminder made Aiden’s heart pound with anger. He’d cast Lyra aside, yes, but that was before he realized the depth of their connection. His rejection had been a mistake, and now Kane, the Lycan Prince, thought he had the right to claim her? The very thought twisted Aiden's gut with jealousy and rage.He could feel his wolf pushing against his control, demanding action, demanding blood."You’ll have to fight him," his wolf whispered darkly. "You’ll have to take her back."Aiden gritted his teeth, imagining Kane’s smug face, the way he looked at Lyra as if she were something to be pitied. He wouldn't stand by and let Kane steal her away. Not without a fight.He couldn’t i
Kane's POVKane stood frozen for a moment, his golden eyes scanning Lyra’s still form, every inch of her battered body a testament to the brutality she'd suffered at the hands of his pack's Alpha and his daughter. She looked fragile - broken. He could feel her fading heartbeat, her once-vibrant energy nearly extinguished.A surge of fury rose in him, sharper than anything he had ever felt before. How dare they - his own people - treat her like this? This fragile, beautiful, broken girl was his second-chance mate. And she wasn’t going to die. Not like this. Not because of their cruelty.The healer, Evelyn, had already begun to administer IV fluids, but even as she worked, it was clear Lyra wasn’t responding as she should. Her skin was cold to the touch, and her breaths shallow, almost non-existent.Kane's Lycan side stirred restlessly, and a dark, primal force inside him rose in response to her suffering. He couldn’t let her die.Turning to Evelyn, he spoke sharply, his voice cold and f
Lyra POV The silence that followed didn’t feel like peace. It felt like the world had forgotten how to breathe.Stone dust hung in the air like smoke, fine and pale, drifting slowly down in spirals from the vaulted ceiling above. Runes that had once blazed with ancient light were now dark and broken, their power spent. Cracks split the floor like veins across a dead heart.And at the center of it all, Lyra sat on her knees in the ruins of the seal - her hands tangled in Nyxar’s coat, her breath coming in ragged, uneven pulls.He was warm. That was the only thing she could hold onto.He was warm.His chest rose and fell beneath her fingers, slow but steady. His body, usually tense with power, now felt strangely soft in her arms - boneless, weighty. And his face…His face looked peaceful.Not serene. Not untouched. There were shadows under his eyes, ash on his skin, and gold still faintly glowing at the corners of his mouth. But there was no pain now. No fight left in him.Just… peace
Nyxar POVThe earth still quaked when the light began to fade. Not with the blinding fury of battle, nor with the blood-red chaos of war - but with something quieter. Heavier. Like the echo of a heartbeat after it stops.A sacred breath held too long… finally exhaled.Nyxar stood at the heart of the chamber beneath the castle - boots braced against fractured stone, the runes beneath his feet flickering like dying stars. The seal pulsed in front of him, threads of gold and shadow unraveling into the dark like veins torn open.Ekreth stood beside him, tall and monstrous in his truest form - wrought of shadow and old bone, his wings hunched tight against the low ceiling, scraping stone as they twitched.The air thrummed with old power. The kind that didn’t belong to the world above.Nyxar didn’t flinch.And before them in one moment the gate was gone. No fire. No rupture. No tearing in the fabric of the world. Just… closed. Like it had never been there at all.Nyxar’s chest was a war dru
Lyra POV - Dawn The sky held no warmth when morning came.It broke over the horizon like a blade - pale and cold, slicing through the hush that had settled over the city. No birds sang. No bells rang. Even the wind seemed to hold its breath.Lyra stood alone in the highest tower, watching the first light seep into the edges of the world. The city still slept below, curled into itself like a creature trying to heal. She could see the rooftops where ivy climbed, the market square where sweetbread had been shared, the fountains where pups had splashed. All the places that had made her heart ache the night before.Her eyes were dry now. Her chest hollowed and quiet, the way it always felt after grief had burned itself down to embers.The shirt she’d held all night was gone. Folded. Left behind. Like a prayer she couldn’t take with her.She wasn’t bringing Kane into this. This was hers to carry. This was her moment to end what First Queen couldn't. Gave up what gods turn her into.The rit
Lyra POVThe city pulsed like a living thing.Not with war drums or warning horns, not with screams or smoke. But with something gentler. Steadier. Like a heartbeat finding its rhythm again after the chaos had passed.She walked its cobbled streets alone, the sky soft and bruised with dusk, her cloak drawn close against the cool wind.She didn’t want to be recognized.Tonight, she wasn’t the Queen. Not the warrior. Not the widow.She was just a woman - a ghost, maybe - drifting through the bones of a city that had outlived too much death.The streets were cracked and uneven where the stone had split from the last quake. Ivy had begun to creep over the ruins. Not the kind born of darkness and shadow like before - but living ivy. Green. Hopeful. Unafraid.It clung to burned-out walls, softening them. Claiming them.And everywhere she looked, life had begun again.A child ran past her, barefoot and shrieking with laughter, trailing a cloth banner behind her like it was a cape. Another pu
Lyra POVThe embers still glowed behind her.Lyra didn’t look back.The scent of ash clung to her skin, tangled in her hair, curled in the back of her throat. Kane’s name lingered there, unspoken. His memory pulsed with every breath.But she did not allow it to take her. Not yet.Later, she told herself, jaw locked so tight it ached. I will mourn him later. When the war is done. When I am alone. When I am allowed to shatter.But not now.Now, there were still choices to be made. Kingdom to hold together. Monsters to face.And one of them waited for her in human form - standing beside another creature just as ancient, just as terrifying.She found them where the Hollow Grounds bled into the broken remnants of the forest - where the warded stones gave way to open earth and the burnt sky cracked with thin threads of gold.Ekreth stood with arms crossed, tall and impossibly still. The last rays of dusk caught the edges of him, casting long, sharp shadows at his feet.He had taken a human
Lyra POV The pyre stood at the edge of the Hollow Grounds, where even shadows seemed afraid to linger.Smoke curled upward in slow, lazy spirals, black against a bruised sky. The earth beneath Lyra’s boots felt scorched, barren - like it remembered too. The scent of charred wood, old blood, and unspoken goodbyes clung to the air, suffocating.She stood alone.The others waited behind the circle of warded stones, where the barrier shimmered like a ghost in the dying light. Not one of them crossed it. Not Nyxar, not Elara, not the witches who still whispered her name like a half-broken prayer. They knew this was not a moment meant to be witnessed.Grief, Lyra had learned, wasn’t something that could be comforted. It wasn’t something you wrapped in soft words or shared through tears. It was a blade, and she had been holding it for days - bleeding quietly from the inside.Now it was buried in her chest, where no one could see it but her.Kane’s body lay wrapped in his old wolfhide cloak
Lyra POV The battlefield had gone silent. Smoke drifted in slow spirals, carrying the scent of charred magic and iron. The fires were still burning, but no one moved to put them out. The witches stood frozen in their circles, eyes wide. Warriors clutched weapons they would never raise. Because all eyes were on her and on him. Kane knelt at the heart of the broken ring, cracked stone glowing with sigils that no longer pulsed. His hands dug into the earth, breath coming in ragged gasps, and his back arched in pain as the Harbinger’s presence writhed inside him - like a second heartbeat made of shadows and fire. But it was still Kane’s face. Still his eyes. Lyra stepped forward slowly. She couldn’t feel her feet. Couldn’t feel her hands. Only the pulsing ache in her chest - the last thread of their bond, frayed and bleeding. Ekreth stood to her right, arms folded, waiting like a vulture made of smoke and starlight. His wings curled inward as if to shield her from what came
Lyra POV The air reeked of blood and burning wards. From the highest spire, Lyra watched shadow creatures pour through the eastern breach - just as planned. Their forms rippled with unnatural grace, bones wrong beneath stretching skin, eyes like coals. The trap was set. Glyphs flared to life in a massive ring around the breach, turning the battlefield into a burning cage. And still they came. The creatures weren’t slowed by fire. They thrived in it. “Fall back to second line!” Elara shouted, sword dripping with black ichor. “Protect the witches! Get the civilians below-” A bolt of shadow tore past her and struck the ground at Lyra’s feet. The stone cracked. The heat of it sizzled against her skin even as she raised a shield instinctively. She spun. And there he was. Kane. No mask. No armor. Just him - worn leathers and that familiar, twisted expression of grief and rage. His eyes, however, were not his own. They blazed with the Harbinger’s mark - red, ringed in black. Hi
Harbinger POVThe darkness welcomed him like an old friend.It moved when he moved. Breathed when he breathed. Twined around his shoulders like a living mantle as he drifted through the ruins of the old forest temple, the shattered remnants of gods long forgotten crushed beneath his feet.Kane sat in the center of the stone circle, head bowed, sweat beading at his brow despite the cold. He hadn’t moved in hours.Still resisting.The Harbinger tilted his head, amused. He circled the boy slowly, boots making no sound on the broken marble. Kane’s energy flickered - unstable. Like a flame exposed to too much air.“You're unraveling,” the Harbinger said softly. His voice was silk over razors, ancient and echoing. “And still, you cling to her.”Kane’s jaw tightened. “I’m not yours.”The Harbinger crouched behind him, a whisper at his ear. “No. Not yet. But you will be.”A flick of power, and the circle of runes flared beneath them, casting everything in a red glow. Kane flinched but didn’t