Nyxar POVNyxar stepped into the council chamber - and stopped.It wasn’t the scent that gave it away, though it lingered - power, sharp and clean, like silver carved into the air. Nor was it the hush, though silence had a weight here, as if the stone walls themselves were holding their breath.No. It was the way they looked at her.All of them - warriors and witches, elders and envoys - every gaze fixed on one figure standing at the center of the chamber. No one spoke. No one even dared to shift.Lyra.But not as she had been.She stood calm amidst the rising storm of whispers, her presence reshaping the very nature of the room. She wore twilight on her skin - an indigo robe threaded with silver light that pulsed like breath. Her hair, once the deep shade of shadows, now shimmered like moonlight, cascading around her shoulders in luminous waves. Her eyes... stars drowned in mercury.She wasn’t just Lyra.She was Queen.Nyxar felt the change like a tremor in the marrow of his bones.A
Nyxar’s POV He didn’t need to be invited.Nyxar slipped through the castle’s underbelly like a whisper in a crypt, unseen and unbothered by the wards woven into the stone. Magic of this realm obeyed its makers. But Nyxar… he was from before such rules were written.The council chamber stood beyond the long corridor of mirrored columns and wolf-carved sconces, its entrance barred not by guards, but by layered enchantments meant to deter spying. Still, he found the gap in their defenses - there was always a seam. Always a weakness. He breathed into it, stepped into the walls themselves, and became shadow.He didn’t emerge into the room. Not yet.Instead, he listened.The voices inside were lower than the fire’s crackle, heavy with unease.“She’s changed,” came Lord Marius’s voice, sharp as brittle glass. “Did you see her eyes? Silver. That’s not our Queen - it’s something else.”“She walks like herself, speaks like herself… but she’s not the same,” said another. A younger councilman, L
Lyra POV The wind had quieted in the rooftop garden, leaving only the rustling of silverleaf trees and the low hum of distant torches burning below. The moon hung high - full and pale, casting Lyra in a glow that shimmered across the threads of her hair. Silver now. As if moonlight had made her its own.She stood near the edge, hands resting on the stone ledge, watching the stars with a distant look in her eyes. Kane was behind her, silent, watching the curve of her shoulders tense ever so slightly.“You’re not really here,” he said quietly.Lyra blinked. “What?”“Not fully. I can feel when your mind drifts somewhere else.” He stepped closer. “You’ve been quiet since the council meeting.”She didn’t turn right away. “They’re afraid of me.”“They’re fools.”“They’re not wrong,” she whispered. “I’m not who I was. Not entirely.”“You’re still you. Stronger, wiser… maybe a little scarier,” he added with a crooked smirk, trying to ease the weight on her spine.She smiled faintly. “Scary i
The passage was colder than she expected.It breathed beneath the castle like a living thing - its walls carved not by human or lycan hands, but by something older. More deliberate. The torch Nyxar had summoned cast a flickering, golden light, licking over ancient stone and faded carvings that had long since lost their names. Runes etched into the walls pulsed faintly with residual magic, their glow responding to her presence.Lyra walked carefully beside Kane, her fingers brushing the damp, uneven walls now and then for balance. She could feel it - something changing beneath her skin. Her silver hair clung to her temples, damp from the cold air, and her silvery eyes adjusted to the dark better than they ever had before. But it wasn’t just her sight that had sharpened. It was her soul.The First Queen was gone now, merged with her - completely. She was no longer two. No longer guided by visions or memories or whispered dreams. It was both grounding and terrifying. She had become some
Lyra POVThe passage seemed longer on the way back.The air, though just as cold, now carried a weight that pressed against Lyra’s shoulders. She walked in silence between Nyxar and Kane, the image of that monstrous black door - rune-carved, chained, humming with barely restrained power - etched into her mind like a brand.Ekrath.Even the name haunted her, echoing like a drumbeat in her chest. She felt it watching her still, despite the layers of stone and magic that now separated them. Waiting. Listening. Remembering the scent of the First Queen within her.The corridors felt narrower than before. The shadows longer. Even Kane’s warmth beside her didn’t chase off the chill clinging to her skin. He reached for her hand, entwining their fingers without a word. His grip was firm - comforting - but beneath the calm exterior, she could feel his pulse racing. He was as rattled as she was.Only Nyxar moved like nothing had changed.Silent. Composed. But every now and then, Lyra caught the
Lyra’s POVThe corridor was long behind them now, swallowed by the cold stone walls of the ancient passageway. After Nyxar's warnings and the unsettling energy that still buzzed beneath her skin, Lyra had returned to their quarters with Kane, her thoughts a storm of questions and instincts she could barely contain.Now, wrapped in the soft embrace of their bed, the room dimly lit by the moonlight filtering through gauzy curtains, she lay beside him, tangled in a quiet stillness.Kane’s arm draped around her waist, his thumb brushing lazy circles along her hipbone as if grounding her to the present. But Lyra’s mind wandered - back to the runes, the sealed door, and the low thrumming that echoed beneath the castle floors like a warning or a heartbeat."You're quiet," Kane murmured beside her. His voice was low, still slightly rough from sleep, but it held a softness only she ever heard. "Too quiet. That usually means you're thinking something dangerous."Lyra let out a breath. Not quite
Nyxar’s POVThe council chamber emptied in slow, uncertain waves.Some left in silence, their faces unreadable. Others lingered in hushed groups, murmuring behind hands and cloaks, their whispered fears curling through the air like smoke. Nyxar didn’t need to hear them to know what they were saying.She’s changed.She’s unnatural.She cannot be trusted.His lips curled in the barest sneer as he leaned against a shadowed pillar, arms crossed. Fools. Cowards.They sat in their high seats and clung to their old ways, blind to the tides shifting beneath their feet. Did they truly believe the Harbinger would spare them if they turned against Lyra now? Did they think they had another choice?He watched them scatter like frightened birds, saw the doubt etched into the lines of their faces, the hesitance in their step.Weakness.This was the rot that always seeped into kingdoms before they fell - the hesitation to do what was necessary, the fear of the unknown outweighing the threat already a
Lyra’s POVThe air in the chamber was thick with something unseen, something pressing. Lyra exhaled slowly, trying to shake the restless energy curling through her veins. Across from her, Nyxar stilled, his dark eyes narrowing as if he, too, had felt it.It wasn’t just unease. It was something else - something shifting beneath the surface of reality.A slow, pulsing force.Ancient. Wrong.Lyra’s fingers twitched at her sides. She turned to Nyxar, meeting his gaze. “You feel it too.”Nyxar didn’t answer immediately. He tilted his head slightly, as if listening to something just beyond the reach of mortal hearing. Then, quietly, “Yes.”Her pulse quickened. “What is it?”For a moment, he didn’t respond. Then, with measured slowness, he turned toward the archway leading to the terrace. “Come.”Lyra followed, her steps brisk but silent as they moved through the halls. The further they walked, the heavier the air became, charged with something unnatural. It wasn’t just her imagination - eve
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
Lyra POVThe scouts returned at dawn.Mud-streaked, hollow-eyed, their wolves panting from the long run. They came with no injuries - but no peace, either.“The eastern tree line,” one reported, voice gravel-rough. “There’s movement in the hollows. Shadows that don’t cast light. It’s him. We know it.”Lyra nodded, absorbing each word like stone absorbing rain. She didn’t flinch. Didn’t blink. She simply said, “Then we fortify. Every outpost from Hollow Reach to the Veil Spine gets fire runes and silver-lined weapons. No one patrols alone. If anyone sees him - him, not shadows, not dreams - they report to me. Directly.”The scouts hesitated, glancing between one another, then nodded.The war council convened by mid-morning. Nyxar stood at her right, silent as ever, while Elara ran point on magical defenses. The barracks had been roused hours before sunrise. Steel clanged in every courtyard. Witches painted wards on armor, blood-mixed sigils glowing faintly against the leather.And stil
Lyra POVThe gates slammed shut behind her with a clang that echoed down the empty streets like a warning bell. Lyra didn’t flinch.She stood still, her eyes fixed on the place where Kane had vanished into the trees - the memory of him, burned into the horizon like a scar.Elara barked orders, sharp and efficient, snapping the guards to motion. Wards flared faintly across the gate’s surface, light trailing like glowing veins through ancient stone. The perimeter was sealed. For now.But Lyra didn’t move.She could still feel it - him. That terrible, twisted echo of what once tethered her heart. Her fingers curled unconsciously, her palm grazing the pouch at her hip. The obsidian shard pulsed once, like it sensed the shift. Or the danger.“He wasn’t alone,” she said softly.Elara turned back to her, eyes wide. “You saw others?”Lyra shook her head. “No. But I felt them. Like… breathing behind a door. Waiting.”The other witch - Dalen - stepped closer. “We should alert the council.”“The
Lyra POV The silence lingered after Thalia’s growl had faded. A silence that felt fuller now. Less like an absence and more like a promise.Lyra sat in the dust until the ache in her body returned, dull and real. Her palms were scraped, her muscles trembling from the strain of holding herself together for too long.Behind her, she felt Nyxar shift. She turned slowly.He stood near the edge of the temple, framed by broken columns and shafts of sunlight cutting through the crumbled roof. The wind stirred his dark cloak, and in the light, the silver of his eyes caught fire.“You saw her,” he said, not a question.Lyra nodded. “She didn’t speak. But she didn’t leave.”“That’s more than most get.”He walked toward her, steps almost soundless. For once, the air around him didn’t feel cold. Just heavy. Old. Like the ruins themselves.“What happens now?” she asked. “With the Harbinger? With… Kane?”Nyxar’s jaw tensed at the name.“He’s not gone,” Lyra said softly. “Not completely.”“No,” Nyx
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.“