The moon had crept high over the mountains by the time Lyra and Kane finally found rest.Their chamber was bathed in silvery light, soft shadows stretching across stone walls and silk sheets. The distant hum of the castle had long since quieted, but Lyra’s mind would not still. Too many voices echoed in her memory - the council’s doubts, Nyxar’s unsettling smile, and above them all, the whisper of something older. Something ancient clawing at the edges of her soul.She lay beside Kane, his hand resting on her waist, thumb tracing idle circles on her bare skin. He hadn't spoken in several minutes, but he didn’t need to. His presence alone was a weight anchoring her in place. Steadying her.“You’re still awake,” he said softly, lips brushing the shell of her ear.Lyra sighed, not denying it. “I can’t shut it off. My mind. Thalia. The Queen…”Kane shifted closer, draping an arm across her, letting her tuck into his chest.“She’s louder now,” Lyra murmured. “Ever since the summoning… it’
Nyxar’s POVHe stood alone on one of the castle’s silent terraces, the crescent moon casting a silver sheen over the empty garden below. The night air hung heavy - so still, it could’ve been trapped in time. Stars above blinked faintly, as though watching. Waiting.But Nyxar wasn’t truly here.His body stood in the present, a shell cloaked in shadows and scars. His mind, however, had already slipped sideways - dragged by something unseen, something ancient and unforgiving. He didn’t fight it.Because the moment always came. And every time, it bled him raw.The first thing he remembered was the wind - wild, feral, roaring with the anguish of a dying world. It howled through the high halls of the old palace, sweeping ash and embers in spirals around crumbling columns. The sky had turned crimson, split with veins of black. The earth had trembled under the weight of fate.And in the center of it all, she stood.The First Queen.Tall. Unyielding. Drenched in war and starlight.Her silver h
Nyxar’s Point of ViewThe memory left a taste of blood in his mouth.Nyxar sat in the shadows of the council chamber’s ruined antechamber, long after the last of the murmuring nobles had gone, after Kane had led Lyra away with that overprotective fire in his eyes. After silence had crept back into the halls like a loyal hound returning to its master.His fingers curled on the armrest of the abandoned stone throne he now claimed for himself - not as ruler, not as ally, but as something older. Stranger. Stronger. Something none of them yet understood. Not even Lyra.Especially not Lyra.He tilted his head back and let his eyes drift shut, but the memory still clung to the inside of his eyelids like soot. Her scream - no, not Lyra’s. Her scream. The First Queen.He had not meant to remember. He never did. And yet, her blood was still on his hands.The Harbinger hadn’t screamed. Not when she struck him. Not when the blade pierced bone and eternity alike.Only she had.She had wept, not fo
Lyra’s POVThe morning broke silver and quiet, shrouded in a mist that clung to the castle’s stone like breath on glass. Pale light filtered through the stained-glass windows of their chamber, casting fractured colors across the floor. It should have been beautiful - ethereal, even - but to Lyra, it felt heavy. Still.She sat at the edge of the bed, bare feet pressed to the cold floor, her elbows resting on her thighs, and her fingers laced together tightly enough to turn her knuckles white. Her hair clung in damp strands to the back of her neck, still tangled from sleep, though the dream had done anything but offer rest.Kane stirred behind her. She didn’t turn. She felt him before he touched her - his warmth, his scent, the tension coiled in his chest like a storm waiting for its cue to break."You're still trembling," he said softly.Was she? "Tell me exactly what did you saw." Kane requested softly. Lyra blinked and looked down at her hands. Thalia was quiet inside her, but not
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
Lyra’s POVThe morning broke silver and quiet, shrouded in a mist that clung to the castle’s stone like breath on glass. Pale light filtered through the stained-glass windows of their chamber, casting fractured colors across the floor. It should have been beautiful - ethereal, even - but to Lyra, it felt heavy. Still.She sat at the edge of the bed, bare feet pressed to the cold floor, her elbows resting on her thighs, and her fingers laced together tightly enough to turn her knuckles white. Her hair clung in damp strands to the back of her neck, still tangled from sleep, though the dream had done anything but offer rest.Kane stirred behind her. She didn’t turn. She felt him before he touched her - his warmth, his scent, the tension coiled in his chest like a storm waiting for its cue to break."You're still trembling," he said softly.Was she? "Tell me exactly what did you saw." Kane requested softly. Lyra blinked and looked down at her hands. Thalia was quiet inside her, but not
Nyxar’s Point of ViewThe memory left a taste of blood in his mouth.Nyxar sat in the shadows of the council chamber’s ruined antechamber, long after the last of the murmuring nobles had gone, after Kane had led Lyra away with that overprotective fire in his eyes. After silence had crept back into the halls like a loyal hound returning to its master.His fingers curled on the armrest of the abandoned stone throne he now claimed for himself - not as ruler, not as ally, but as something older. Stranger. Stronger. Something none of them yet understood. Not even Lyra.Especially not Lyra.He tilted his head back and let his eyes drift shut, but the memory still clung to the inside of his eyelids like soot. Her scream - no, not Lyra’s. Her scream. The First Queen.He had not meant to remember. He never did. And yet, her blood was still on his hands.The Harbinger hadn’t screamed. Not when she struck him. Not when the blade pierced bone and eternity alike.Only she had.She had wept, not fo
Nyxar’s POVHe stood alone on one of the castle’s silent terraces, the crescent moon casting a silver sheen over the empty garden below. The night air hung heavy - so still, it could’ve been trapped in time. Stars above blinked faintly, as though watching. Waiting.But Nyxar wasn’t truly here.His body stood in the present, a shell cloaked in shadows and scars. His mind, however, had already slipped sideways - dragged by something unseen, something ancient and unforgiving. He didn’t fight it.Because the moment always came. And every time, it bled him raw.The first thing he remembered was the wind - wild, feral, roaring with the anguish of a dying world. It howled through the high halls of the old palace, sweeping ash and embers in spirals around crumbling columns. The sky had turned crimson, split with veins of black. The earth had trembled under the weight of fate.And in the center of it all, she stood.The First Queen.Tall. Unyielding. Drenched in war and starlight.Her silver h
The moon had crept high over the mountains by the time Lyra and Kane finally found rest.Their chamber was bathed in silvery light, soft shadows stretching across stone walls and silk sheets. The distant hum of the castle had long since quieted, but Lyra’s mind would not still. Too many voices echoed in her memory - the council’s doubts, Nyxar’s unsettling smile, and above them all, the whisper of something older. Something ancient clawing at the edges of her soul.She lay beside Kane, his hand resting on her waist, thumb tracing idle circles on her bare skin. He hadn't spoken in several minutes, but he didn’t need to. His presence alone was a weight anchoring her in place. Steadying her.“You’re still awake,” he said softly, lips brushing the shell of her ear.Lyra sighed, not denying it. “I can’t shut it off. My mind. Thalia. The Queen…”Kane shifted closer, draping an arm across her, letting her tuck into his chest.“She’s louder now,” Lyra murmured. “Ever since the summoning… it’
Lyra’s POVThe castle’s rooftop garden was drenched in silver moonlight, the air sharp with the scent of frost-dusted herbs and dying roses. It was quiet here, far above the murmuring halls, away from the war room’s tension and Nyxar’s unsettling grin.Lyra stood near the stone ledge, her arms wrapped around herself as the cold wind played with her hair. Kane was close, silent, watchful. Neither of them had said much since the meeting ended, but the weight of it lingered - coiling in the spaces between breaths.“He unsettles them,” she said finally, voice low.Kane, leaning against the wall beside her, didn’t look at her when he answered. “He unsettles me.”She glanced at him, the hard line of his jaw shadowed by moonlight. “Because he knows things we don’t? Or because he doesn’t fear us?”Kane’s golden gaze met hers then. “Because he reminds me of what’s out there. What we haven’t faced yet.”Lyra nodded. “The Harbinger.”A beat of silence.“Do you remember what Nyxar said?” she aske
Lyra's POV The war room buzzed with quiet murmurs and cautious glances. The circular table at the heart of the chamber, carved from obsidian and etched with the runes of past rulers, hadn’t seen this level of tension in weeks. The High Council was assembling - lords, advisors, and surviving generals of the fractured realm. Every seat was filled.Kane stood at the head of the table, his posture straight, his golden eyes sharp. Beside him, Lyra exuded icy composure, though a low flicker of energy coiled beneath her skin - Thalia was restless, watching.Only one seat remained empty, deliberately left open.The one meant for a god… or a monster."Where is he?" Lord Rhogan asked, one brow arched in suspicion. "This entity you brought into our castle. The being who answered your summons...""He will be here," Lyra interrupted coolly, her voice slicing through the chatter. "And he’s not just our concern anymore. He heard the Harbinger’s call. That makes him everyone’s problem."A wave of di
The morning air was still. But Nyxar was not.He stood on the highest tower of the castle, unmoving, save for the subtle twitch of his fingers against the stone. The dawn had begun its slow creep across the sky, spilling soft hues of rose and gold over the jagged peaks below. Cold wind sliced around him, howling like some ancient beast - but he didn’t flinch.He breathed it in. Or at least, he mimicked the motion. It had been a long time since he’d drawn air into lungs.Longer still since he’d needed to. But now… something in him wanted to.He turned his gaze toward the east, toward the distant forest where the ruins of his last prison lay buried beneath centuries of silence and death. It had taken the Queen's blood and the witches howl to wake him. To break the veil that kept his soul adrift in shadow.And now, he watched the world through new eyes.Human eyes.That thought curled in his mind like smoke.Nyxar flexed his hand and watched his fingers stretch and move. Not claws. Not
The room was dark, save for the faint glow of the embers in the fireplace. Shadows flickered across the stone walls, wrapping around them like silent witnesses.Kane moved with purpose, his golden eyes dark with something primal. His grip on Lyra’s waist tightened as he pulled her against him, their bodies flush, heat radiating between them.The kiss was not gentle. It was fierce, consuming - lips and tongues clashing as if they were fighting for control, yet neither willing to surrender.His hands roamed, rough and possessive, claiming every inch of her he touched. Lyra arched into him, a soft gasp escaping as his teeth scraped against the delicate skin of her throat, sending a shiver of pleasure through her."Mine," Kane growled against her neck, his voice raw with emotion, with need.Lyra's fingers tangled in his hair, gripping hard enough to make him groan. "Yours," she whispered, breathless. But the fire in her eyes challenged him - daring him to prove it.Kane’s jaw tensed. His
Kane's POV The chamber doors shut with a muted thud, sealing them in silence. The lingering tension from their encounter with Nyxar clung to the air like a ghost that refused to fade. The room was warm from the crackling hearth, but the cold weight of uncertainty pressed against Kane’s chest.Lyra moved first, stripping off her heavy cloak and placing it over the chair by the fireplace. Kane remained near the door, his fingers flexing at his sides. His wolf was restless, pacing beneath his skin.She knew. She always knew.“You don’t trust him,” Lyra said, pulling the pins from her hair. The strands tumbled over her shoulders in a dark cascade, her reflection sharp in the polished mirror. Her voice was steady, but he didn’t miss the slight tension in her shoulders.Kane unfastened the high collar of his jacket, stepping toward her. “Should I?”Lyra met his gaze in the mirror, her eyes unreadable. “He knelt.”“So did the most dangerous creatures before they struck,” Kane countered, his