POV: Lyra
I didn't leave my room for two days.
Not because I was weak.
Not because I couldn't.
Because I didn't trust myself not to burn everything down the moment I stepped outside.
Every time I blinked, I saw fire.
Not a metaphor. Not some dramatic poetic curse.
Literal flames. Breathing. Waiting. Curling around my fingers even when I begged them not to.
The worst part?
She was still there.
Emberlyn.
She didn't speak in full sentences, not yet — but she whispered in fragments.
> He'll betray you again.
> Don't let them chain you.
> You are not theirs to protect.
And the more I tried to silence her, the louder she became.
Rhea brought food once, said something about my energy needing balance. She looked like she wanted to say more — ask questions, offer healing — but one look at my hands, and she backed away.
I wasn't angry at her.
I was grateful.
Because I could feel something inside me building. And it terrified me.
Kairo hadn't come.
Not once.
But I knew he was close.
I felt him outside the door more than once — hovering, pacing, hesitating.
And somehow that hurt more than his silence.
Because I wanted him.
And I hated that I did.
By the third day, I snapped.
I couldn't breathe in this room anymore.
So I shoved on my boots, pulled my cloak tight, and crept down the back stairs of the east wing. The guards didn't notice me. The bond had begun to cloud my presence — like it wanted me hidden, even from them.
Good.
Because I wasn't running.
I just needed air.
The moment I stepped outside, the wind hit me — cold and sharp — and it felt like the first breath I'd taken in years.
But then it happened.
The wind shifted.
And I smelled something wrong.
Something… familiar.
A scent like iron and smoke.
I turned.
The castle gates were open — just slightly. One guard was missing. The other was laid out flat against the ground, breathing but unconscious.
And standing in front of the gate…
Was a man in obsidian armor.
He looked no older than thirty. His hair was jet black, tied at the nape. His eyes — silver. Too bright. Too knowing.
And when he saw me, he smiled like we'd met before.
I took a step back.
He bowed his head slowly. "Emberlyn."
My blood turned to ice.
"I go by Lyra now," I said, voice low.
His smile widened. "Not for long."