Lyra’s body jolted awake, the sharp, animalistic scream slicing through the heavy silence of her cell. It wasn’t the sound of someone in pain - it was the sound of someone unraveling, consumed by grief. The air itself felt heavier, as if mourning along with the wail.Her wolf, Thalia, stirred uneasily. That’s Seraphine.Lyra sat up slowly, her limbs aching from countless beatings. She hugged her knees, trying to steel herself against the oppressive fear that crept into her heart. The Rogue King was dead - she knew it as surely as she could feel her own breath.The scream… it’s her mourning him, Thalia said grimly. But grief like that twists. It becomes rage.Lyra clenched her fists around the stone in her hand, its smooth surface the only thing grounding her in the suffocating darkness. Time stretched unbearably, each second weighed down by the echoes of Seraphine’s cries.The door to Lyra’s cell burst open. Seraphine stood in the doorway, her once-proud posture now bent with grief. H
Kane held Lyra for a moment longer, just letting the steady rhythm of her breath calm the storm inside him. The weight of the battle was still heavy on his chest, but in this moment, with her alive and safe, everything else seemed to fade away. His mind raced, as it always did after a fight - calculating, planning, and trying to make sense of the chaos. But for now, he allowed himself to just breathe.He pulled back reluctantly, still keeping a protective arm around her waist. His eyes swept the room, the aftermath of the battle strewn across the floor - bodies of the fallen, broken crates, and discarded weapons. The stench of blood filled the air, but there was also something else, something faint but sharp. The air still crackled with the remnants of magic, the energy from the stone Lyra had so fiercely protected.We need to get you out of here, Kane thought to her, his voice filled with urgency but also a deep sense of relief. The others are securing the perimeter. You’re safe now,
Kane’s heart was still racing as he walked alongside Lyra through the halls of the castle. The battle had been won, but the aftermath was just beginning. As they passed the quiet corridors, Lyra’s hand resting lightly in his, he couldn’t help but feel the weight of everything that had transpired. The relief of finding her alive was overwhelming, but the fear and anxiety still lingered, tightening his chest.He couldn’t shake the image of her unconscious, bleeding, in Seraphine’s clutches. The thought of losing her - of never seeing her smile, never feeling the warmth of her presence again - still felt like a sharp knife in his gut.“Lyra,” Kane whispered, his voice low, full of tenderness. He turned to face her as they came to a quiet hall near the infirmary. She was walking on her own now, but he could see the exhaustion in her steps, the subtle tremor in her hands.“I’m okay,” she said, her voice faint but steady. Her determination to be strong made his heart ache. But he could see
Kane stood in the dimly lit war room, his jaw clenched tight as the weight of what he had just learned settled over him. His mind raced, the words of the old prisoner echoing in his ears. The Rogue King’s obsession with the stone, the prophecy surrounding it - everything pointed to something much larger, more dangerous, than anyone had anticipated.Lyra stood by his side, her face etched with determination, but Kane could see the quiet storm brewing behind her eyes. She was absorbing every word, every detail. She wanted to understand it all - she needed to. And Kane wasn’t going to let her face it alone.“Lyra,” Kane thought to her, his voice soft but firm through their mind link. “We need more answers. I need to know everything the Rogue King knew about this prophecy - what they were hiding, what they were willing to kill for.”Lyra nodded, her hand finding his in silent solidarity. “I’ll help you, Kane. Whatever it takes.”He squeezed her hand before stepping away to the war table,
Kane's POV Kane stood in the center of the war room, surrounded by the remnants of the Rogue King’s legacy - notes, maps, and cryptic journals strewn across the long table. The room was dimly lit, the flickering light of torches casting shadows that danced along the stone walls. The air was thick with tension, the scent of fear and determination mingling as Kane’s warriors stood silent, waiting for him to speak.Bastian sat in a chair near the fire, his scarred hands clasped tightly together. The older man looked more like a ghost than a wolf, his body thin, his skin pallid from years of abuse. But his eyes...his eyes burned with something powerful - knowledge, fury, and a glimmer of hope.Kane crossed his arms, his stance wide and firm. His wolf paced restlessly in his mind, eager to take control, to protect what was his. But for now, Kane held it back, focusing every ounce of his energy on the man before him.“Speak,” Kane said finally, his voice low but commanding. “Tell me what
Kane entered the infirmary, his steps quiet but purposeful. The room was filled with the scent of herbs and faint traces of antiseptic. Lyra lay on a padded bed near the far wall, her hair fanned out around her pale face. A healer hovered nearby, adjusting the blankets with gentle hands.The moment Kane appeared, Lyra’s eyes fluttered open. Though exhaustion clouded her gaze, there was a spark of recognition, of trust, that sent a wave of relief through him.“Kane,” she murmured, her voice weak but steady.He crossed the room in a few quick strides, kneeling by her bedside. His wolf, though still restless, calmed at the sight of her. “I’m here,” he said softly, taking her hand in his. “And I’ll never leave your side again.”Lyra gave him a faint smile, though pain flickered in her expression. “It’s not over, is it?”Kane shook his head, his jaw tightening. “No, not yet. But we’re going to face it together.”He gestured toward the doorway, where Bastian lingered uncertainly, his scarre
Kane POVThe war room was a hive of activity. Maps were spread across the large oak table, and books, scrolls, and tattered journals from the Rogue King’s quarters were stacked in organized chaos. Kane stood at the head of the table, his powerful frame casting a shadow over the spread. His warriors and advisors surrounded him, their expressions grim but focused.Bastian was seated near the corner, rifling through a stack of weathered pages. His hands trembled slightly, but his voice was steady as he read aloud excerpts from the Rogue King’s personal notes.“‘The stone is the key to uniting all packs,’” Bastian murmured. “‘Its power lies dormant, waiting for the rightful heir. Only one born of the bloodline can awaken it fully.’”Kane’s jaw tightened. He could feel the tension in the room as every eye turned toward him.“It confirms what we’ve feared,” Kane said, his voice cold and even. “Lyra isn’t just any Alpha. She’s the focal point of this entire prophecy. The Rogue King’s obsessi
Lyra POV Lyra stirred in her bed, her body finally resting after days of turmoil. The healer’s herbs had done their work, lulling her into a deep sleep, but it wasn’t peaceful. Darkness stretched around her in her dreams, punctuated by bursts of searing light. She found herself standing in a vast expanse of charred earth, ash swirling in the air like snowflakes.A figure emerged from the shadows, its form flickering between human and wolf. It was neither Kane nor anyone she recognized. Its eyes glowed a brilliant gold, and its voice boomed in her mind - not words but emotions: warning, urgency, power.The figure raised a hand and in it was the stone. But it was no longer dull and lifeless; it burned with fiery intensity, casting light and shadow in equal measure. The flames leaped toward her, licking at her skin, but instead of burning, they seemed to seep into her, filling her veins with molten energy. She screamed, the sound echoing through the void.“You must choose,” a voice whis
Lyra POV Ekreth was gone again. For a long moment, she simply sat there, the weight of the world pressing down on her shoulders. Duty waited outside that door. An entire kingdom will look to her now - broken, battered, but victorious. They had won the war. The Harbinger was gone. The seal was locked and nothing should get through to this world.And Kane… Kane was gone too.The thought carved another raw wound through her heart. She pressed a trembling hand against her chest, as if she could hold the pieces of herself together a little longer. She was Queen. There was no one else. She can't hide here.The heavy cloak of authority settled around her shoulders. She did not look at Nyxar. She couldn’t. Not yet.A soft knock stirred the heavy silence.Lyra blinked slowly, pulling herself out of the half-daze she'd sunk into. Her fingers still curled around Nyxar’s, reluctant to let go. She didn’t want to move. Didn’t want to face whatever waited beyond this quiet, broken moment.Th
Lyra POV The door clicked softly shut behind Ekreth, leaving her alone with Nyxar and the sound of her own heartbeat.For a long time, she didn't move.She sat there, hands folded on her lap, staring at the slow, steady rise and fall of his chest beneath the blanket. Each breath was a fragile miracle. A proof that he still lived - that he hadn't slipped away entirely into whatever place gods went when they died."You stayed", Thalia murmured inside her, voice warm and thick with emotion."I had to."Lyra answered numbly."No, Lyra. You chose to."Lyra's chest ached at the words.She hadn't thought about it. Not really. When Nyxar’s light began to break apart, when the world had turned inside out - she had moved without hesitation. Without calculation. As if something inside her had already decided long before she knew it herself.But that didn't mean she understood it. Or that she wanted to.A heavy silence filled her mind."He matters to you", Thalia said softly, without accusation.
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