POV: Lyra
I didn't sleep.
Couldn't.
Even when I shut my eyes, the vision played on repeat — my mother's voice, the parchment, Kairo's name. Final Key. It echoed louder than anything.
The air in the tower felt too thick. Too still.
I needed movement. I needed answers.
So I slipped out while the guards rotated. Quietly, bare-footed, clutching the stone like it was the only real thing tethering me to myself.
I didn't know where I was going.
But something inside me did.
I followed the pull — soft but constant — like a thread tugging at my spine. Down the inner stairs. Past the war hall. Into tunnels that weren't marked. That smelled of dust and magic.
That weren't supposed to exist.
I walked for what felt like hours. No light, just instinct. Until the wall opened.
Not by force.
Not by runes.
But by my presence.
A ripple in the air.
A breath in stone.
And then the passage revealed itself.
I stepped through.
The chamber was round, ancient, carved from obsidian with veins of gold. It shimmered faintly — alive in a way no stone should be.
And in the center stood a statue.
Two figures. Intertwined. One cloaked in flame. The other draped in shadow. Their hands reached for each other — but never touched.
At their feet, engraved words:
"Bound by flame, undone by fate."
"The key turns. The fire consumes."
I stepped closer.
That's when I saw it — beneath the ash, the seal I'd seen in my vision.
A crest shaped like the one on the stone I carried.
My hand trembled as I touched it.
The second my skin made contact, a rush of memories struck me all at once.
A child wrapped in fire.
A woman screaming my name.
A man with red eyes dragging her away.
A stone gate closing.
Blood.
Darkness.
A name whispered like a prayer.
"Kairo."
But this time, it wasn't just fear in my mother's voice.
It was warning.
And grief.
And sacrifice.
I stumbled back, breath ragged, eyes wide.
What was this place?
And why did I feel like I'd been here before?
The walls pulsed again. A low rumble echoed beneath my feet.
Suddenly, light flickered across the chamber — not from torches, but from runes etched into the walls, glowing one by one.
Lyra.
Firebound.
Sealed.
And then—
Break the bond, or burn the world.
I staggered.
Because I understood.
This sanctuary wasn't just a place of worship.
It was a warning.
A prophecy tomb.
And I was standing in the center of it like a match waiting to be struck.