She woke to silence.
Not the silence of peace, but the silence of absence, the kind that presses into your lungs like stone and makes you realize something vital is missing.
Lyra blinked, slowly. Her vision was blurred at the edges, golden veins of light still lingering behind her eyelids like fading sparks. The chamber was dim, lit only by the last flickers of the Phoenix Flame in its vial. She lay curled on the floor of the sanctum, sweat cooling on her skin and the sharp taste of iron in her mouth.
The runes on her wrists were cracked, burnt, seared black where the flame had fought against them. They no longer shimmered with suppression. They were broken.
"Lyra."
The voice was soft, distant. But it shattered the quiet like a blade through ice.
She turned her head slowly.
Kael stood at the edge of the sanctum, a shadow framed in light. His hair was damp, his jaw clenched, his eyes…
His eyes were wrong.
Gone was the forest-green she'd come to know. Instead, his irises burned silver, threaded with shifting specks of gold and storm-gray—a swirling, endless pattern that didn't seem natural.
Didn't seem mortal.
"Your eyes," she whispered, trying to sit up.
Kael dropped to one knee beside her, supporting her with one arm. "Later. Can you stand?"
She nodded weakly. Her limbs trembled, the fire inside her still settling, still humming, as if the flame hadn't left her… as if it had fused with something deeper.
He helped her up, but his eyes never left hers.
"What did you see?" he asked.
"Everything," she whispered. "And nothing I understand."
His grip tightened slightly. "You were unconscious for hours. They told me to stay away, that the flame had to judge you alone. But I felt it."
"What?"
He hesitated. "The bond."
A chill slithered down her spine. "What bond?"
Kael shook his head. "I don't know. Not fully. But when you screamed—when the flame touched you—I felt it burn through me too. Like it reached for me. Like we were… linked."
The words hung between them, heavy with meaning.
"But that's not possible," she said, heart pounding. "We're not...."
"We shouldn't be," he interrupted, voice low. "But the flame chose you. And now, something in me is awake."
Lyra reached up, brushing her fingers gently against his cheek. His skin was warm, too warm, and beneath it she felt a pulse that beat with more than just life. Magic. Deep and ancient. Something that hadn't been there before.
"The God Eyes," she murmured, realization dawning. "It's not just a myth."
He flinched slightly.
"You were hiding it," she said softly. "All this time."
Kael looked away, jaw tight. "I was taught to. The power doesn't manifest in every generation. When it does, it makes you a weapon. Or a threat."
"Or a guard," she whispered.
He laughed, bitter. "That's the lie they tell us. That we're born to serve. That these eyes are just a gift to make us see better, fight faster, react before danger strikes." His gaze met hers again, and in them, she saw storms. "But they're more. The God Eyes see truth. And I saw it, Lyra. When you fell. I saw who you really are."
Her breath caught. "What did you see?"
Kael hesitated. "Flame. Wings. A crown made of ash and bone. And a shadow trying to rip it from your head."
She shook her head. "That can't be."
"It will be," he said. "That's what the prophecy warns. Not just rebirth. But war. The flame returns only when the world is about to burn."
Lyra turned away, staring at her reflection in the shards of a shattered mirror on the chamber wall. Her face looked the same, pale, veiled, her eyes wide and frightened. But beneath her skin, she felt changed.
"I didn't ask for this," she whispered.
"I know."
She looked back at him. "But I won't run from it."
A flicker of a smile ghosted across his lips. "I didn't think you would."
A knock echoed from the sanctum doors, sharp and commanding. Kael's body snapped into defensive posture, hand at his blade. Lyra straightened, despite the exhaustion tugging at her bones.
The doors opened.
Mavros entered.
He wore black today, embroidered with thread the color of dried blood. His expression was unreadable, but his gaze locked onto Lyra immediately.
"You survived," he said, almost admiringly.
Kael stepped in front of her. "She doesn't need you here."
Mavros's eyes flicked to Kael's and narrowed. "Interesting. The wolf bares his teeth."
Lyra stepped forward, placing a hand on Kael's arm. "What do you want, Mavros?"
"To talk," he said simply. "Alone."
"Not a chance," Kael growled.
Mavros raised a brow. "Very well. Then I'll be brief. The Northern Court knows what you are, Lyra. Or what you're becoming. They sent me to confirm it, and now I have."
"You'll report back," Kael said. "And they'll try to take her."
Mavros smirked. "Try is a dangerous word. The Courts won't come themselves, not yet. But others will. Hunters. Priests. Even the Ascended won't ignore the Phoenix once they believe she's real."
Lyra stood straighter. "Let them come."
Mavros tilted his head. "You say that now. But when fire burns, it burns everything. Even those closest to the flame."
Kael stepped forward, bristling. "Get out."
Mavros offered Lyra one last look, part curiosity, part warning, then turned on his heel and left.
The door shut with a deep, echoing boom.
Kael didn't move for a long time. When he finally spoke, it was quiet. "We need to leave."
Lyra's eyes widened. "What?"
"They'll come for you now. We both know it. The runes are broken. Your power's awake. The prophecy's in motion. You're no longer a secret."
Lyra looked around the sanctum. This had been her prison and her home. She had dreamed of freedom, but not like this. Not chased. Not hunted.
"And where would we go?" she asked, almost afraid of the answer.
"To the Wastes," Kael said. "To the wilds where the Ascended don't rule. There are people , there my people, who might still remember the old ways. Who might help."
She looked at him.
At the way he stood, shoulders square, jaw set, eyes glowing with stormlight and fire.
A guard. A prince. A weapon.
Her guard.
"Then we go," she said. "Together."
He nodded once.
But as they turned to leave the sanctum, Lyra paused, glancing once more at the pedestal, where the last remnants of the Phoenix Flame still glowed faintly.
She felt it pulse again in her blood, a whisper at the edge of her mind.
The flame has awakened.
And the world would never be the same.