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Chapter 2 – Whispers in the Rain
The rain didn't stop for two days.
Lyra lay hidden beneath the crumbled ruins of an old bell tower just beyond the city walls, her cloak soaked, her hands trembling. She couldn't forget his eyes.
The Abyss Prince.
He said she was his. He called her omega.
But that wasn't possible.
Omegas hadn't been born in the human world for nearly a century. Those who were… didn't survive. The old bloodlines had been wiped out after the War of the Six Moons. That much was taught in every history scroll she'd ever read.
And yet—
The mark on her chest still pulsed. Slow. Steady. Alive.
She unfastened the top of her damp tunic just enough to glimpse it. The skin beneath her collarbone shimmered with a swirling symbol—something that moved beneath her flesh like ink dancing in oil. It wasn't just a mark. It was a bond. A living thing.
And it had started glowing since he touched her.
Lyra bit her lip until it bled.
She needed answers.
She needed distance.
Because if she stayed, she knew he would find her again. He hadn't touched her skin, not directly. But her body still ached as if he had. Every inch of her burned with a strange, primal hunger.
No one ever told her that fate could feel like this.
Like drowning and flying at the same time.
She was dangerous now. Not just cursed.
Hunted.
And she didn't even know what she was becoming.
A soft rustle caught her attention. Lyra reached for the dagger she kept strapped to her thigh.
Footsteps. Light, cautious. Not Enforcers.
A girl appeared—hooded, no older than sixteen, carrying a sack of herbs. She paused when she saw Lyra, eyes wide.
"I knew it," the girl whispered. "You're the marked one. He's chosen you."
Lyra's stomach dropped. "Who are you?"
"They call me Dove. I came to help."
"Help?" Lyra scoffed. "You don't even know what I am."
Dove tilted her head. "You're his omega. The last one. And the Abyss Prince never marks wrong."
Lyra froze.
The girl dropped the sack beside her. "There's a place. In the forest past the Widow's Gate. A sanctuary for those he chooses. Not all of them live. But if you want answers—if you want to survive—you'll go there."
"How do I know you're not leading me to my death?"
Dove's eyes gleamed silver. "Because you're already dying."
She turned and disappeared into the fog.
Lyra didn't sleep that night.
She ran again.
This time, toward the forest.
---
The Widow's Gate was nothing like she imagined. It was black stone, ancient and jagged, with carvings of beasts and stars and wings. Her mark burned the moment she stepped through.
She stumbled through twisted trees and low mist for hours until her knees buckled.
"Welcome, omega."
The voice came from the darkness ahead. A figure stepped forward—a man, tall and sharp-eyed, with hair like silver fire. He wore armor that pulsed with violet energy and bore a sword made of shadow.
"Who—" Lyra croaked.
He dropped to one knee. "I am Varien. Commander of the Abyss Prince's guard. You've crossed into his lands. You belong to him now."
"I don't belong to anyone."
He smiled faintly. "Then tell that to the mark that binds your soul to his."
Lyra backed away. "I didn't ask for this."
"No. But it asked for you."
Suddenly, the mist parted behind her.
A presence.
She didn't need to turn.
He was there.
The Abyss Prince.
This time, she didn't run.
She looked him in the eyes.
"I don't want to be yours," she said, breathless.
He stepped forward slowly, every movement laced with power. The air trembled.
"But you already are, Lyra," he whispered, brushing a single gloved finger along her collarbone. "Even the stars know it."
The mark flared beneath his touch, and her knees buckled.
He caught her.
And held her as if the whole world was ending.
"You've awakened the bond," he murmured against her ear. "And now, there's no turning back."