POV: Kairo
The blast of energy woke me before dawn.
It pulsed through the walls of the tower like a heartbeat skipping, setting the wolves outside into a restless frenzy. I didn't need to ask who it came from. Lyra's presence had always been like heat in a snowstorm — impossible to ignore.
But this time, it wasn't just heat.
It was power.
Raw. Wild. Ancient.
I didn't rush to her room. Not yet. Because if I did, I wouldn't be able to keep the fear off my face. And I couldn't afford to let her see that. Not when she was already slipping away from me, inch by inch.
Instead, I headed to the High Hall.
The council had summoned me before I could even speak to her. Of course they had. They felt the surge too. And like vultures, they moved the second they smelled something unfamiliar in their territory.
When I entered, the room was already full. Vren stood at the door, tense. The Elders sat around the obsidian table like kings without thrones, eyes sharp, claws metaphorical — for now.
"She did it again," Elder Lir said. "Another uncontrolled burst."
"That wasn't a burst," Elder Nyra snapped. "That was a flare. An awakening."
"And it shook the eastern wards."
I remained silent as they argued, reading each of their faces. Fear. Suspicion. Hunger. The kind of interest that could shift into violence if I said the wrong thing.
Finally, Elder Cael turned to me.
"You've been close to her, Alpha. Has she said anything? Remembered anything?"
My jaw clenched.
"She's… remembering fragments."
"More like becoming something uncontrollable," Lir muttered.
"She's still learning," I said calmly.
Nyra narrowed her eyes. "Or hiding."
Cael leaned forward. "We'll be blunt. Her presence puts this pack in danger. Not just politically — magically. If she draws the Emberbloods again, the wards won't hold. And if she keeps flaring like this, she could awaken old bloodlines that haven't surfaced in centuries."
I didn't blink.
"She needs training," I said.
"She needs containment," Lir countered.
The word hit me like a knife.
"No."
"Then you'll take responsibility for her next outburst?" Cael asked.
"Yes."
"You'll vouch for her loyalty? Her intentions? Her bloodline?"
I hesitated — not long, but long enough for them to see it.
"I will," I said finally.
It was a lie.
Because I didn't know if I could.
Not anymore.
They sat in silence for a moment, weighing it. Then Cael gave a slow nod.
"One last chance," he said. "She steps out of line again, and we vote."
And we all knew what that vote meant.
It wouldn't be exile.
It would be execution.
I left the hall with my pulse in my throat and fire in my chest. I needed to see her. Not to scold her. Not to cage her.
But to understand what she had become.
When I entered her room, she was awake — sitting on the edge of the bed, bare arms glowing faintly where the new mark had formed.
She didn't look surprised to see me.
"I dreamed of fire," she said softly. "And it marked me when I woke."
I crossed the room in two steps and knelt in front of her.
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"I was going to. But I didn't know how."
She looked up, and for the first time, I saw fear in her eyes. Not for herself. For me.
"They're coming for me, aren't they?"
"Not if I stand between you and them."
"But how long can you do that?" she whispered.
I didn't have an answer.
So instead, I took her hand, placed it over my heart, and said the only truth I still believed in.
"As long as I'm breathing."