POV: Kairo
She didn't move.
She didn't scream.
She didn't breathe.
The moment her body hit the floor, I dropped to my knees beside her, the blade rolling away, its flame extinguished. Her skin was cold. Her heartbeat — gone. But there was something else… something still in the room with us.
I pressed my hand against her chest.
Nothing.
"Lyra," I whispered.
No response.
No twitch. No gasp. No flicker of the bond.
I grabbed the blade and tossed it across the room, the metal clattering like thunder as it hit the stone wall. Sparks scattered, then died.
Then I did the only thing I could think to do — I called for Rhea.
The healer arrived within minutes, robes flying, eyes wide.
"What happened?" she asked breathlessly.
"She touched the blade again."
Rhea cursed under her breath. She fell to her knees beside Lyra and placed her hands above her chest, fingers glowing with soft, silvery light.
I watched helplessly as magic flooded into Lyra's body.
A minute passed.
Two.
Then—
She gasped.
Her back arched.
And her eyes snapped open.
But they weren't her eyes.
They glowed. Not the soft violet I knew — but a deep, blazing gold.
I froze.
Rhea stumbled backward. "That's not Lyra…"
I stepped forward, heart thundering. "Then who is it?"
She sat up slowly, her movements almost too smooth — like a puppet dancing for the first time in centuries. Her eyes locked onto mine, and something inside me recoiled.
But then she smiled.
"I remember you," she said softly.
My mouth went dry. "Lyra?"
"No," she said, rising to her feet like she belonged to the earth itself. "But she remembers me."
The room went silent.
The blade, forgotten in the corner, began to glow again.
"Where… where is Lyra?" I asked.
The girl tilted her head. "Still here. But not alone anymore."
Then she turned to me and whispered,
"I was the fire. You were the key. And this time… we burn together."