The sanctuary had changed.
Where once the ancient stones had felt cold and dead, now the air throbbed with restless magic, a pulse beneath the skin, a hum in the bones. The gods were stirring, and the world would soon bleed for it.
Kael sat near the fire, his back against a crumbling pillar, watching Lyra tend to the wound on his side. Her touch was gentle, but her brow was furrowed, her face paler than usual.
"I should have stopped you from going down there," she muttered.
"You would've had to kill me," Kael replied, managing a half-smile.
Lyra didn't laugh. "I would've, if it meant keeping you from him."
Kael caught her wrist, their eyes meeting. The words they both wanted to say hung between them like a storm cloud.
"I meant what I said," Lyra whispered, voice raw. "I don't care what blood runs in your veins, or what fate the gods have spun for you. You're mine."
Kael's chest tightened. No one had ever claimed him like that not with anger, not with fear, but with fierce, reckless love.
"I'll fight it," he said. "All of it. Him. The gods. My blood. I don't care what it costs."
Lyra's smile was sad. "I do. Because it might cost me you."
Before he could answer, a sharp sound cut through the air.
A snap.
A branch breaking.
Both of them were on their feet in an instant, weapons drawn.
Kael's dagger, cursed and ancient.
Lyra's twin obsidian blades, black as midnight.
The sanctuary door stood half-open, the wind whispering through it.
And then silence.
Until a voice came, cold as moonlight on a grave.
"Lower your blades, children. I have no desire to kill you… unless you make me."
From the shadows stepped a figure in silver-gray armor, her face partially hidden by a veil of white silk. Only her eyes showed ice-pale, emotionless, deadly.
Seren Valen. The White Widow. The Moonlight Order's most feared assassin.
Kael's blood ran cold. He knew her by reputation.
A ghost. A killer of kings and gods.
No one escaped her.
"Seren," Lyra breathed. "How did you"
"You left a trail even the blind could follow," Seren said softly. "The Demon Queen has put a bounty on your head, girl. And the boy…" she glanced at Kael, her gaze sharp as a blade. "The boy belongs to older powers than you understand."
Kael stepped in front of Lyra. "You'll have to kill me to get to her."
A flicker of something amusement, pity? crossed Seren's eyes.
"I intend to."
In a blur of movement, she attacked.
Kael barely parried the first strike, Seren's sword a flash of moonfire. Lyra lunged in from the side, her twin blades carving arcs of shadow. The assassin moved like water, slipping between their strikes, her own counterattacks precise, lethal.
Steel clashed against steel. Sparks danced in the darkness.
Kael fought with every ounce of his strength, but Seren was faster, colder, relentless. A cut opened on his arm, then another on his cheek. Blood mixed with sweat. Every breath a struggle.
Lyra fought like a storm all fury and desperation but even she was being pushed back, step by step.
Seren's voice was calm amidst the chaos.
"I admire your courage. It will make your deaths clean."
Kael's vision blurred. His mark burned. The voice of Azuren whispered, a poisoned promise.
"Take the blade. Spill her blood. Claim your birthright."
No.
Kael gritted his teeth, forcing the god's voice away. He wouldn't become a monster. Not now. Not for him.
And then, Seren feinted, slipped past Lyra's guard, and drove her sword toward Kael's heart.
Lyra screamed.
Kael moved without thinking.
Steel met flesh.
And darkness took him.