The scent of burning parchment filled the air as the last remnants of the ancient scrolls disintegrated in Lyra's hands. The archives had been set ablaze from within. She stumbled back, coughing violently, her body shielded by Ethan's embrace.
"We need to get out. Now," Ethan growled, his voice hard and clipped.
But Lyra's eyes weren't on the flames.
They were fixed on the mural etched into the back wall of the chamber — now revealed by the falling debris.
A circular carving glowed faintly beneath centuries of soot, depicting two wolves—one silver, one black—locked in an eternal loop, tails and fangs curled around a glowing orb.
"It's us," Lyra whispered.
Ethan turned. His breath caught.
"That's…" he murmured, stepping toward it. "That's the bond."
The wall pulsed with power, and as Lyra touched it, images burst behind her eyes. Visions—fragments of a past she had buried, or perhaps forgotten in the haze of rebirth.
She saw herself in another life—long hair tangled in the wind, silver eyes glowing as she stood beside Ethan, both crowned in moonlight. Blood on her hands. A battlefield. A kiss that had tasted like goodbye.
And the scream.
His scream.
Her death.
Her sacrifice.
She gasped, stumbling backward into Ethan's arms, nearly collapsing.
Ethan held her tighter, watching the wall fade to stone once more.
"You saw it, didn't you?" he whispered.
She nodded, unable to speak.
They didn't need words.
He had seen the same.
---
Outside Blackthorn Keep – An Hour Later
They sat atop the black SUV parked beneath the dying moon, its light veiled by ash and smoke. Logan stood at a distance, keeping watch, his senses tense.
Lyra's legs dangled over the edge of the roof, her boots still coated in dirt from the keep. Her hands trembled despite the warm air.
"I remember more now," she said quietly. "Not everything. But enough to know that it wasn't just love between us back then."
Ethan remained beside her, silent.
"It was war," she continued. "We fought for others. For peace between the packs. I died not just for you—but for the whole damn balance."
Ethan's jaw clenched. "And they still want to break it."
Lyra turned to him. "Because they know what we are."
"A force," Ethan murmured. "Not just mates. But the bond itself."
Lyra glanced at him, something fierce blooming in her eyes. "If they're trying to sever us, it means the bond is still whole. Vivian hasn't succeeded yet."
"But she will try," Ethan said, his voice low. "And she'll try to kill you to do it."
Lyra's heart skipped. "She'll have to get in line."
They shared a look—long, loaded with history, pain, and something else: fire.
Ethan slid closer, his voice dipping an octave. "Do you remember what I said to you before you died?"
Lyra paused. The memory was blurry. A battlefield. The wind. The kiss.
"I said," he continued, eyes never leaving hers, "that I would wait for you, even if it took a thousand years."
Tears stung Lyra's eyes.
"You did," she whispered.
"And you came back."
He leaned in slowly, his lips brushing hers with the reverence of a man starved of light for a millennium. Her breath caught as the kiss deepened, hungry and desperate. She clung to his collar, pulling him closer, letting his warmth drown the chill of her visions.
Ethan pulled away, just enough to rest his forehead against hers.
"I lost you once," he murmured. "Never again."
---
Vivian's Estate – Elsewhere
Vivian watched the flames rise from Blackthorn Keep through her glass wall. Her heels clicked against marble as she turned away, face calm.
"They found the mural," came a voice behind her.
"Of course they did," she said smoothly. "I wanted them to."
The man behind her frowned. "You don't fear them knowing?"
Vivian laughed, low and cold. "The more they remember, the more predictable they become."
She turned to the fireplace, tossing a scroll into the flames.
"Let them play their little reunion fantasy," she whispered. "It only makes her more ripe for breaking."
---
Back at the Tower – Lyra's Quarters
Lyra couldn't sleep. Not after what she'd seen. Not after what she'd remembered.
She stared at the ceiling, her body still humming from the lingering heat of Ethan's kiss. But it wasn't lust that kept her awake—it was the weight of revelation.
She remembered her death now.
She remembered choosing it.
And she remembered… the child.
She sat up, gasping.
That part had been buried deepest. But it was there—so brief, so painful. The faint flicker of life she had tried to protect. Not just Ethan.
Her body had been carrying a child when she'd died.
Her child.
Their child.
The sob broke from her throat before she could stop it.
Moments later, the door opened, and Ethan stepped in, bare-chested, sweatpants slung low on his hips. "I felt you wake," he said softly.
She tried to speak but couldn't.
Ethan rushed to her, kneeling in front of her bed. "What is it?"
Lyra's voice shook. "I was pregnant… when I died."
Ethan went still.
"I forgot," she whispered. "I didn't know until now. But I saw it."
He stared at her, stunned.
And then something shattered in him.
He pulled her into his arms, holding her so tightly she could barely breathe.
"I felt it," he rasped. "For years. A hole… I couldn't name."
Lyra cried into his chest. "We lost everything."
"Not everything," Ethan whispered. "We found each other again."
He kissed her, this time not like a promise, but like an anchor.
Like a man trying to hold onto everything he thought was gone forever.
---
Morning – Training Grounds
Lyra stood before a row of warriors, her back straight, eyes fierce.
"You sure you want to train today?" Logan asked. "After last night?"
She nodded. "We don't have time to waste. I need to be ready."
Ethan watched her from the edge of the field, pride burning in his eyes.
She wasn't just his Luna.
She was a weapon of fate.