The night air was heavy, tinged with the distant scent of charred wood and scorched earth. The stillness was deceptive, wrapping the camp in an eerie quiet that only amplified the sudden, sharp pain tearing through Lyra's chest. She gasped, her amber eyes snapping open as though dragged from a deep, restless sleep.It wasn’t just a twinge of discomfort; it was a searing, violent sensation, like claws raking through her very soul. She clutched at her chest, her nails digging into the fabric of her tunic as though the pressure could stop the pain. The stone embedded within her pulsed faintly, its once vibrant energy now a shadow of itself, a weak and dying echo.Inside her mind, Thalia’s growl rumbled low and threatening, a sound thick with anger and grief."Something’s wrong," the wolf growled. "It’s gone. We’ve lost it."“Gone?” Lyra whispered, her voice cracking under the weight of the realization. Her breaths came shallow and quick as the connection - the delicate thread that had te
The forest pressed in on them like a living thing, every tree a silent witness to the growing dread. The air was heavy, damp with the promise of danger. Each rustling leaf and snapping twig sent jolts of unease through the party as they moved in formation. The faint glow ahead - the unnatural light that twisted the edges of the valley in hues of sickly green - brightened with every step, its source hidden yet insistent.Kane raised a hand sharply, and the group halted. His voice was low, his tone uncharacteristically grim. “Something’s off. It’s too quiet.”Lyra adjusted her grip on her blade, the weight familiar but somehow less comforting. The forest felt wrong - thick with a presence that watched and waited.Thalia’s growl rumbled in her mind. "They’re near, Lyra. They’re watching. I can taste their malice."“Stay sharp,” Lyra whispered, barely audible, her words more for herself than the others.The moment stretched, the quiet pressing against their ears like a physical force.The
Drevon POV Drevon stood in the heart of the swirling smoke, the air around him thick with the acrid scent of magic. Aelindra’s voice, low and melodic like a siren’s call, filled the unnatural fog as she wove her spell. Tendrils of shadow coiled and writhed at her feet, rising to meet her outstretched hands.“It’s time,” she said, her crimson eyes glowing with an eerie light. “The gateway is ready.”Drevon tightened his grip on the hilt of his blade, his pulse quickening. The moment had come, the culmination of weeks of planning and years of resentment. He turned to his warriors, a handpicked force of their strongest and most ruthless, their faces obscured by the flickering shadows.“Stay sharp,” he commanded, his voice sharp as steel. “This is our moment. No mercy, no hesitation. The Lycan throne falls tonight.”Aelindra moved her hands in a slow, deliberate arc, and the fog began to shift, forming a dense portal that shimmered with an otherworldly hue. Drevon felt the pull of her po
Lyra POV The camp had settled into an uneasy silence, the kind born of exhaustion and uncertainty. Fires flickered faintly in the pre-dawn gloom, their light casting long shadows over the solemn faces of the warriors. Lyra sat near the largest fire, her amber eyes fixed on the horizon, as if willing answers to emerge from the darkened woods.The battle hours earlier had left them shaken. Aelindra’s twisted presence still clung to her mind, like an echo that refused to fade. She tightened her grip on the hilt of her blade, the cool steel grounding her against the storm of emotions churning inside her.Nearby, Kane stood speaking with Killian and a small group of scouts, his tone low but firm. He exuded the steady presence of a leader, but Lyra could see the faint tension in his jaw, the slight hunch in his shoulders. He was carrying the weight of their survival, even as questions about Aelindra and Drevon lingered like an unspoken curse over them all.Thalia’s growl rumbled in her mi
Kane POV The camp buzzed with subdued activity as the Lycans worked under the shadow of the capital. Fires flickered across the outskirts of the city, their golden light dancing against the encroaching darkness. Kane stood at the edge of the camp, the bitter wind tugging at his cloak. His hands were clenched into fists at his sides, his jaw tight as he surveyed the shattered remnants of his people.The devastation was more profound than anything he had imagined. The city that had once thrived with life and the unyielding pride of his kind was now a husk of its former glory. Buildings that had stood for centuries were reduced to rubble. Streets that had echoed with laughter and the rhythmic cadence of warriors training were now silent, except for the cries of survivors and the low murmur of soldiers tending to the wounded.Kane drew a slow breath, his chest tight. Every fiber of his being yearned to let go - to rage, to mourn, to crumble under the weight of his father’s death and the
The sun dipped below the horizon, leaving the capital cloaked in the quiet embrace of evening. Smoke from the funeral pyres hung heavy in the air, mingling with the faint, bitter tang of ash and charred wood. The city that had once stood proud now lay broken, its streets scarred by destruction, its people burdened by the weight of loss. Yet, as the final rays of twilight faded into night, the survivors gathered, united by their grief and a shared resolve to honor the fallen.The grand square outside the castle had become a solemn assembly. Hundreds of bodies, lovingly gathered from across the city, were laid upon neat rows of funeral pyres. Each one bore a token of the life it represented - simple keepsakes of loved ones, a weapon once wielded, a piece of cloth that carried a lingering scent of home. Among them, set apart on a grand, towering pyre, lay the body of the king.Kane stood at the forefront of the crowd, his silhouette framed by the flickering torches held aloft by the warr
Kane POVA heavy silence hung over the remnants of the capital as the last embers of the funeral pyres smoldered in the distance. The scent of burning wood and flesh still clung to the air, an aching reminder of all that had been lost. The city, once alive with howls of strength and unity, now stood in solemn mourning beneath the weight of the night.Kane stood at the balcony of the almost intact castle, his hands gripping the stone railing so tightly his knuckles turned white. The blood-red moon hung low in the sky, casting an eerie glow over the land that was now his to rule.His.The word felt foreign, suffocating. He had never wanted the crown, never wanted to ascend through tragedy and bloodshed. His father had been the strength of their people, the unwavering pillar of their kingdom. And now, he was gone.Lyra stood a few steps behind him, her presence a steadying force in the chaos that threatened to consume him. She had barely left his side since they returned to the capital,
Lyra POV The weight of exhaustion finally dragged Lyra into sleep, though it was a restless surrender. The warmth of Kane’s body against hers, his even breathing, was a small anchor in the storm of grief that raged within her. But as soon as sleep took hold, shadows crept into her mind, pulling her into a place far from the ruined castle and the embers of the fallen.The world around her shifted.She stood in an unfamiliar clearing, bathed in the pale glow of an unnatural silver moon. The air was thick with mist, swirling like restless spirits. The trees loomed, their twisted branches stretching toward her like skeletal hands. A distant whisper carried on the wind - a voice she couldn’t place, yet it sent ice crawling through her veins."Lyra..."She turned, heart hammering against her ribs. The voice was neither a whisper nor a shout, but it reverberated through the very fabric of the dream. It was laced with something ancient - something wrong.Then, the mist parted.A figure stood
Lyra sat on a worn, half-buried stone, the remnants of what might’ve once been an altar. Light streamed through the broken ceiling above - slanted, gold-tinged sunlight that pierced through the dust and fractured glass. The air here still thrummed with old power, magic older than any living soul could remember. And somewhere behind her, Nyxar lingered in the shadows, silent.She hadn’t spoken since the dream.Her hands rested limply on her knees, stained with dust and blood. Her eyes were fixed on the far wall where vines crawled over carved glyphs, half-erased by time and ash.“Do you remember what this place was?” she asked softly, unsure why she spoke aloud.Nyxar’s voice came like the stir of wind. “It was where we made promises. The first pacts. The first betrayals.”Lyra turned her head toward him slowly. “And you brought me here because…?”His gaze didn’t meet hers. “Because the temple still remembers. Even when the gods forget.”She swallowed the lump in her throat. Her body s
Lyra POV As Lyra stood beside Nyxar, the haze lifted, revealing more of the ruins that stretched beyond the immediate carnage. Crumbled walls half-swallowed by ash and time. Statues toppled. Towers broken. It was like walking through a graveyard built for gods.He moved ahead of her in silence, his long cloak trailing like smoke. Lyra followed, drawn forward despite the ache in her chest. She could feel the echo of magic here - raw, broken magic, older than any she had ever touched.“This was your home?” she asked quietly, though the answer pulsed in her bones.“It was,” Nyxar replied, his voice distant. “A long time ago. Before I became what I am now.”He stopped before a shattered archway. Vines had overtaken the stone, and in its center lay a deep scar carved into the earth, as if something had been ripped from it violently.“What happened here?” Lyra asked, stepping beside him.He didn’t look at her. “I had a mate once.”The words hit her like a thunderclap. Her breath stilled.“
The tent around Lyra was dim, the pale blue light of dawn barely seeping through the canvas. For a moment, she didn’t breathe. Her body ached, her skin prickled, and her heart thudded like a war drum beneath her ribs.Nyxar’s voice still echoed faintly in her mind. "Go to the temple ruins. Alone."She sat up slowly, wincing as every joint protested. The shirt clung to her skin with a mix of sweat and dried blood. The bowl of now-cold water on the table beside her remained untouched since last night, just as the plate of food had gone uneaten. Her stomach curled at the thought of it.Her gaze drifted to the opening of the tent. The barrier was up again - she could feel the thrum of its magic, steady but strained. The witches had worked through the night. So had the warriors. She wasn’t sure who had dragged her back from the battlefield after Ekreth vanished with Kane and the Harbinger. She only remembered the rage. The pain. The silence Thalia had retreated into deepest parts of her, l
Lyra POV The city felt like a graveyard.Not because it was empty, but because it wasn’t. The people had returned - cautiously, with bowed heads and silent eyes - but the air held the weight of something sacred lost. The Hollow Grounds beyond the barrier still burned faintly with the remnants of their battle. The smell of ash clung to everything.They entered through the eastern gate in silence. No one spoke. The warriors moved with grim determination, their weapons still bloodstained. The witches were pale and exhausted, many of them barely on their feet. But they made it.The barrier, though cracked and faltering, had been reforged. A tether of silver light shimmered faintly over the walls, patched and held together by runes and raw willpower. It wasn’t perfect. But it was enough - for now.Lyra said nothing as she passed beneath it. She felt the familiar hum of protection brush against her skin like a sigh, but there was no comfort in it. Not anymore.They returned to the same mak
Lyra POV The world had narrowed into silence. The kind that came after heartbreak. After devastation.The bond was gone. And the Harbinger stood above it all, smiling.A smug, inhuman smile that split his face like a wound. He turned slowly, savoring the moment, as if feeding off the ruin he had wrought.“I expected more from you, little wolf,” he said, voice velvet and rot. “But I suppose it was too easy, wasn’t it? A whisper here, a memory there... and your king tore himself apart for me.”Lyra couldn’t move. Could barely breathe.Every part of her felt hollow, carved out by the echo of Kane’s rejection. Even Thalia had gone silent, her presence curled up in some hidden corner of Lyra’s soul, wounded and refusing to rise.But there was something else now. Buried under the grief. Under the pain. It started as a flicker. A tremor in her fingertips. A breath drawn too sharply.Rage.The Harbinger kept talking, but she didn’t hear the words anymore. She only heard the blood pounding in
Lyra’s POVThe darkness was suffocating. Cold, biting, like something had clawed its way inside her, twisting every corner of her mind into a void. She had been lost in that space - unable to move, unable to breathe, stuck in a place between life and death.But then, there was light.A soft, gentle pull at the edges of her consciousness, like the first breath of fresh air after a suffocating storm. Her senses, one by one, came back to her.She could hear again.The faint hum of the wind, the crackle of the fire in the distance. The sounds of a world that hadn’t stopped turning, even though hers had.She could feel.The weight of her body against the cold ground, the pressure in her chest slowly lifting, replaced by a dull, aching emptiness. It was a hollow feeling, like something was missing… something important.She could see.The world came into focus, blurry at first, then sharp and clear. Her vision adjusted, and she saw… him.Kane.His tall form was standing before her, his back
Kane's POV Kane’s heart thundered in his chest, the storm in the sky only a reflection of the chaos inside him. His grip on his sword tightened, knuckles white. He barely felt the sting of the Harbinger’s dark presence pressing against him - more like an itch at the back of his mind than a physical threat.The Harbinger’s voice slithered like venom, a dark lullaby meant to seduce, to tear apart the last fragments of his will."You protect them, Kane," the Harbinger whispered, his eyes glinting with ancient knowledge. "You think you do it for love, for honor. But what is honor when it shatters? What is love when it weakens you? You are the protector. You need power. Control."The words dug into his skin like knives, twisting in a place that had never known peace. There was truth in them, wasn’t there? The responsibility, the weight of it all - the lives of the people he swore to protect. He had always been the shield. The protector.But the truth, the painful truth the Harbinger spoke
Lyra POV The Hollow Grounds pulsed beneath her boots like a thing alive.Darkness churned on the horizon. A storm not born of clouds or rain, but shadow and raw, ancient hunger. The sky bled crimson at the edges, unnatural and seething. Around her, the witches formed their line, magic crackling like flares beneath their skin. Soldiers stood behind them, tense, blades drawn. Kane to her right. Nyxar to her left.And ahead - him. The Harbinger.He stood as if carved from the bones of gods, the corrupted echo of something once noble. His lips parted in a smile. “Ah. There you are.”And his voice - silken, knowing - brushed across the battlefield like a caress laced with venom. “Kane.”He didn’t shout. He didn’t need to. The name echoed with power.Kane tensed. Lyra saw it in the line of his shoulders, the shift in his weight. Her heart clenched.“You’ve always belonged to me,” the Harbinger said. “Before time gave you another name. Before loyalty chained you to the lesser.”Lyra stepped
Lyra’s POVThe world trembled as the battle began.Lyra had prepared herself for a monstrous form, for the shape of something inhuman. But what stood before them was a nightmare given flesh. The Harbinger wore the form of a man - tall, broad-shouldered, his dark armor clinging to his frame like a second skin. His hair was swept back, revealing a face carved from ice, sharp angles and regal cruelty. His piercing golden eyes glowed in the darkness, twin suns in an endless void.It was the face of the First King. And it was nearly identical to Kane’s.Lyra felt Kane tense beside her, his grip tightening around the hilt of the First King’s sword.A slow smile curled the Harbinger’s lips. "You feel it, don’t you?" His voice was deep, resonant, laced with something ancient and terrible. "The bond between us. You were made for this, Kane. You carry my blood, my legacy." He took a step forward, power radiating from him in sickening waves. "Come to me, my son."Kane stiffened as if struck.Lyr