Lyra POVThe weight of her father’s words clung to the air like a storm waiting to break.We prepare.For what?A war against gods who had existed before time itself? A battle against something no mortal could ever hope to understand?Lyra’s fingers curled into fists against her lap, her nails biting into her palms. Every instinct in her screamed that something was wrong, something beyond the devastation left behind by the Demon God.She had survived. But at what cost?The presence inside her had not faded.The First Queen still lurked in the shadows of her soul, coiled like a predator biding its time. Lyra could feel her - not an overwhelming force taking control, not yet, but there. A whisper at the back of her mind, a weight that had settled into her very bones.A force that did not belong to her.Kane’s grip on her hand was steady, grounding. But even he couldn’t quiet the turmoil inside her.Across from her, her father watched, his sharp amber eyes filled with something unreadabl
Lyra POVThe flickering lamps lining the corridor cast elongated shadows on the stone walls as Lyra followed her father into the war room. The weight of what she had asked settled heavily on her chest, but she did not waver.She needed answers.Kane walked beside her, silent but present, his silver eyes watchful. He had been there when the First Queen had taken over her body - he had spoken to her - and now, he would hear the truth alongside her.Killian dismissed the guards stationed outside the chamber before stepping in, his presence commanding as ever. The heavy wooden doors groaned shut behind them.The room was dimly lit, with a large, circular table in the center, covered in old maps and ancient texts. The scent of parchment and aged leather filled the space, mingling with the faint traces of smoke from the brazier in the corner.Killian remained standing, arms crossed over his chest. "What do you know of the First Queen?" he asked.Lyra inhaled sharply. "Only what the historie
Lyra’s POVThe chamber was silent after her father’s final words, but inside her mind - inside her soul - there was no silence.The First Queen was awake.She could feel her, a whisper in the back of her thoughts, a presence curling around her consciousness like smoke."You are not ready."Lyra stiffened, her nails digging into her palms.She had spent her life believing she was in control of her own destiny. That her choices, her victories, and her losses were her own. But now?Now, she wasn’t just herself anymore.The First Queen’s presence had been lingering since the moment she woke after the battle with the Demon God. At first, it had been subtle - a whisper here, a flicker of something in the corner of her mind. But now, it was like an ember catching fire, waiting to consume.Lyra closed her eyes, exhaling slowly."You are my heir."The words weren’t just memories. They were hers - the Queen’s voice brushing against her thoughts, curling into her mind like it belonged there.No.
Lyra’s Point of ViewThe northern stronghold was vast, its foundations built into the heart of the mountain itself. Hallways of cold stone stretched endlessly, twisting in intricate patterns as if the fortress had grown like roots over time, each tunnel a passageway to secrets long buried.Lyra followed her father in silence, her boots echoing against the polished floors as they descended deeper into the stronghold. The torches lining the walls flickered, their golden light barely reaching the shadows that seemed to press in from every side.She could feel it.The weight of history. The whispers of those who had come before.They were walking into the old places - the ones that had not been disturbed in centuries.Killian had said little since they left the war room. His expression remained unreadable, but Lyra didn’t miss the tension in his shoulders, the slight furrow in his brow.Finally, he spoke. “The archives were sealed after the war between the First Queen and the Demon God. N
Lyra’s POVThe hours passed in silence.Scrolls, tomes, fragmented stone tablets - each one an ancient whisper from the past. Some were barely legible, their ink faded with time, while others had been written in languages Lyra didn’t recognize.She had lost track of how many books they had opened, how many records they had scoured. And yet, the truth remained just beyond reach, like a shadow retreating from the light.Her father stood across from her, his fingers tracing the edge of a brittle parchment. He hadn’t spoken much since her vision. But Lyra could feel it - his mind turning over the same thoughts, the same questions.Lyra frowned, thinking back to the battlefield in her vision. The crown. The blood. The chains forged by the gods themselves.“She wasn’t meant to be a ruler,” Lyra murmured. “She was meant to destroy. But something stopped her.”The air in the archive felt heavier.Killian crossed his arms, his gaze flickering toward the deeper, unsearched shelves of the archive
Lyra POV When she finally repeated the Queen’s last words - The gods have not finished their design.Her father exhaled slowly. For the first time, he looked… unsettled.“She meant you,” he said at last. “They created her for war. And now…” His gaze flickered to her.Lyra swallowed hard. “I don’t know what they want from me.” Her voice was quieter than she intended. “But I can feel it, Father. Like something inside me is waking up.”Killian was silent for a long moment. Then, finally, he said, “You need to learn everything about her.”Lyra blinked. “I already...”“Not just what she was,” Killian cut in. “But what she became.”Lyra frowned. “You think she found a way to escape the gods’ control?”Killian’s gaze darkened. “She must have. Otherwise, she wouldn’t be here now. Inside you.”A shiver ran through her.She had felt Aelthira’s rage. Her defiance. She wasn’t just lingering in Lyra’s soul. She was waiting.Waiting for something. But what?Before Lyra could say anything else, a
Lyra’s POVThe air shifted.It was subtle at first - a faint pressure at the back of Lyra’s skull, a whisper too soft to hear yet impossible to ignore. Then came the cold. A sharp, unnatural chill, crawling up her spine, settling deep in her bones.Something was watching them.Kane noticed it, too. His grip on his sword tightened, golden eyes scanning the shadowed corners of the archive. Killian exhaled slowly, his face unreadable, but Lyra could feel his unease like a tangible force.Then - a whisper.Soft at first. A voice just beyond reach, threading through the silence like smoke.The sound sent a bolt of instinctive dread through Lyra’s chest. She turned sharply, her gaze landing on one of the oldest murals carved into the walls.And then she saw it. The mural had changed.It wasn’t possible. Stone did not shift, nor did carved figures alter themselves after centuries of being untouched. Yet here it was.The battle scene once etched in time - the First Lycan Queen standing agains
Third POVThe storm came without warning.One moment, the northern stronghold stood under a cold, starless sky, its towers looming over the mountain pass like silent sentinels. The next, the wind howled through the craggy peaks, shrieking like an enraged beast. The heavens split open, jagged lightning illuminating the snow-covered cliffs in flashes of violent white.But it wasn’t just a storm.Something was moving within it.High above the fortress, the clouds churned unnaturally, spiraling like a great vortex. The air itself vibrated with an ancient force - something raw, something wrong. The very stone of the mountain trembled, deep cracks splintering across the walls of the fortress.Then, the first scream rang out.A sentry, stationed atop the western tower, staggered back from the battlements, his spear clattering to the ground. His eyes were wide, his face twisted in horror."Gods help us," he whispered, before falling to his knees.More screams followed as warriors pointed skyw
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