POV: Lyra
We ran.
Down stone steps that shook with each explosion. Through passageways flooded with Council guards yelling about breaches, traitors, shadows.
But all I could think about was what Rhea said.
"They weren't looking for you this time."
"They were looking for him."
We reached the Sanctuary chamber and stopped short.
The air was thick with smoke. Runes on the walls flickered and sparked like dying stars. The obsidian statue at the center — once frozen in firelight — was cracked clean down the middle.
And at its base, someone had written words across the seal.
In blood.
KAIRO.
My breath caught in my throat.
The writing wasn't old. It was fresh — still wet, still warm.
And I knew it wasn't just any blood.
It was his.
Kairo dropped to one knee beside the mark, pressing two fingers into it. His jaw clenched. "It's mine."
"But you haven't been down here."
"Not since that night."
Rhea moved past us, examining the cracks in the statue. "This wasn't an attack to destroy. This was a ritual."
I stepped forward slowly. "A ritual for what?"
Kairo didn't answer.
He was staring at something only he could see — something ancient, buried, terrifying.
When I touched his shoulder, he flinched.
"Talk to me," I whispered.
He looked at me — not like the boy who used to protect me, or the Alpha who led a fractured kingdom.
He looked at me like a man trying to stop himself from unraveling.
"The prophecy never said what the Key unlocks," he said softly. "It only said the Key must bleed… and the flame must burn."
He turned toward the shattered statue.
"I think they used my blood to start the gate."
I backed away. "You mean it's opening?"
"No," Rhea said quietly. "Worse. They're trying to open it without you."
A cold chill swept down my spine. "Is that even possible?"
"I don't know," she said. "But someone's trying. And if they succeed without both of you present—"
Kairo cut her off. "The power won't balance. It'll devour everything."
I stared at the broken floor.
The old words echoed in my mind:
Break the bond, or burn the world.
I thought the choice had been about love.
But maybe… maybe it had always been about power.
Too much in the wrong hands.
Too little in the right ones.
And the bond?
Just the fuse.
I looked at Kairo. His face was pale, but his eyes burned with something else now — not fear, not love.
Resolve.
"We need to find who did this," he said. "And fast."
"We will," I promised. "But first…"
I knelt down in front of the cracked statue and placed my palm against the stone.
For a second — nothing.
Then the fire rose.
It swallowed the cracks, traced the old carvings, and burned a new message into the wall behind us.
Three words.
Clear as day.
The Key Betrays.
The chamber went silent.
Even Kairo didn't breathe.
And when I turned toward him… he looked more afraid of himself than of anything else in this world.