Lyra's POV
The portal above me screams like a living thing.
I dive away from the door just as the first warrior crashes through the roof of the Ashwood house. Wood and tiles explode everywhere. People in the street scatter, screaming. The warrior lands in a crouch, his silver armor blinding in the fading sunlight.
He's not human. His eyes glow blue like ice, and when he stands, massive white wings unfold from his back.
"Found her," he says into the air, his voice echoing with power.
Two more warriors drop through the portal. Then five more. Then ten. They surround the house, their swords drawn and glowing with the same cold light as their eyes.
I'm pressed against the side wall, my heart hammering so hard it hurts. My hands are still glowing silver, giving me away like a torch in the darkness.
The front door bursts open.
My adoptive mother stumbles out, her face pale. Theron follows, his eyes wide with greed and excitement. Behind them, my adoptive father and sister peek out, too scared to come closer.
"She's here!" Theron shouts, pointing right at me. "The girl you want—she's right there! Now where's our gold?"
I stare at him. At all of them. Hoping—praying—I heard wrong before. That they wouldn't really sell me.
The lead warrior doesn't even look at Theron. He walks straight toward me, his sword pointed at my chest.
"Lyra Moonwhisper," his voice booms. "By order of the Celestial Court, you are summoned for judgment. Come quietly, or we will take you by force."
Moonwhisper? That's not my name. My name is Lyra Ashwood. Right?
"Wait!" I back away, my hands up. "There's been a mistake. I'm nobody. I'm just a healer. I didn't do anything wrong!"
"Your very existence is a crime," the warrior says coldly. "You are an abomination. A half-breed that should never have been born."
Half-breed? What is he talking about?
"Now wait just a moment!" My adoptive father finally finds his courage and rushes forward. But he's not protecting me—he's angry. "We had a deal! Twenty-five years we've hidden her, just like you paid us to do! We kept your secret! We deserve the rest of our payment!"
The truth hits me like a physical blow.
They knew. They always knew what I was. Whatever I am.
"You were PAID to take me in?" My voice cracks. I look at the woman I called Mother for twenty-five years. "Everything was a lie?"
She won't even meet my eyes. "It was just business, Lyra. Don't make this harder than it needs to be."
"Business?" I feel something breaking inside my chest. "I called you Mother. I loved you. I worked for this family without asking for anything. I just wanted you to love me back."
"Love?" Theron laughs—actually laughs. "You? You're not even really human, freak. We only kept you because the gold was good. And now it's time to collect the rest."
He looks at the warriors expectantly. "So about that five thousand gold crowns—"
The lead warrior waves his hand. Theron flies backward like someone punched him, crashing into the wall of the house. He slides down, groaning.
"We owe you nothing, mortal," the warrior says with disgust. "You were paid well twenty-five years ago to keep silent. The child's location was discovered through our own means. Your family will get nothing more."
"That's not fair!" My adoptive mother shrieks. "We took care of her! Fed her! Gave her a home!"
"You mean you made her sleep in the smallest room, dressed her in rags, and worked her like a servant while your real children lived in luxury?" A new voice cuts through the chaos.
Everyone turns.
A woman steps through the portal. Unlike the warriors, she wears flowing white robes that seem to glow from within. Her long silver hair floats around her like she's underwater. Power radiates from her like heat from a fire.
The warriors immediately drop to one knee. "High Priestess Calista," they say in unison.
This is who's in charge. I can feel it.
Calista walks toward me slowly, studying me like I'm a bug under glass. When our eyes meet, something cold slithers down my spine. Her smile is beautiful and terrible at the same time.
"So this is Selene's little mistake," she says softly. "You look just like your mother. Same eyes. Same foolish hope that love can save you."
"My mother?" I whisper. "You knew my real mother?"
"Oh, I knew her very well." Calista's smile grows sharper. "I was her most trusted advisor. Her best friend. And I was there the night she died."
Something in the way she says it makes my blood run cold.
"Twenty-five years ago, your mother—the Moon Goddess herself—fell in love with a mortal king. Selene broke every law of the Celestial Court to be with him. When she became pregnant with you, she knew the Court would never allow it. A child with both divine and mortal blood?" Calista laughs. "You are chaos waiting to happen. A threat to the balance between our worlds."
My legs feel weak. The Moon Goddess is my mother?
"Selene tried to hide you," Calista continues. "She paid these greedy mortals well to raise you in secret, to suppress your powers until you were old enough to... well, it doesn't matter now. She's dead. And you've run out of time to hide."
"You're lying," I say, but my voice shakes. My glowing hands, my healing powers, the way I've never fit in anywhere—it all suddenly makes horrible sense.
"Am I?" Calista tilts her head. "Then why are your hands glowing brighter with every word I speak? Why can you feel power building inside you right now, begging to be released? You were never meant to be a simple healer, child. You're a weapon. And weapons must be controlled—or destroyed."
She snaps her fingers.
The warriors move as one, surrounding me with their swords raised.
"Take her," Calista orders. "Bind her powers. If she resists, kill everyone in this village. Starting with the family who failed to keep her hidden."
"No!" I scream. "Don't hurt them! I'll go with you! I'll do whatever you want!"
Even after everything, I can't let innocent people die because of me.
Calista smiles like she knew I'd say that. "How perfectly predictable. Just like your mother—too soft, too weak. That's why she's dead, you know. That's why you'll die too."
Before I can ask what she means, a warrior grabs my arm. Cold metal clamps around my wrists—some kind of shackles. The moment they click shut, my silver light dies. My powers vanish like someone blew out a candle.
I feel empty. Helpless.
The warrior lifts me off my feet and carries me toward the portal. I look back one last time at the Ashwoods. At the people I thought were my family.
They're not even watching me anymore. They're arguing with Calista about their payment.
Tears stream down my face, but I'm not sure what hurts more—the betrayal, or the fact that I still wish they'd loved me.
The portal swallows me whole.
Everything goes white and cold and endless. I'm falling through space, through light, through something that feels like dying and being born at the same time.
When I finally stop, I'm on my knees on a floor made of crystal that glows like trapped starlight.
I look up, and my breath catches.
I'm in a throne room so massive I can barely see the ceiling. Columns of white marble stretch up forever. Beings with wings and glowing eyes fill the room—hundreds of them, maybe thousands. They're all staring at me.
At the far end of the room, seven thrones sit on a raised platform. Six are occupied by beings so beautiful and terrifying they hurt to look at.
The seventh throne—the largest one in the center—sits empty.
"Lyra Moonwhisper," Calista's voice echoes through the chamber. She walks past me toward the thrones, her robes flowing. "You stand accused of being an abomination against the natural order. The child of a goddess and a mortal. A half-breed whose very existence threatens the balance between realms."
She turns to face me, and the cold smile is gone. Now she just looks cruel.
"The sentence for your crime is death. You will be executed at dawn, and your corrupted blood will be spilled so it can never poison another generation."
The beings in the throne room don't object. Don't argue. They just watch me with cold, uncaring eyes.
I'm going to die.
I'm twenty-five years old, I just found out my mother was a goddess, and I'm going to be executed in the morning for the crime of being born.
"Does anyone object to this sentence?" Calista asks the room, but it's clearly just for show.
Silence.
Then, from the deepest shadows at the back of the throne room, a voice speaks. It's low, rough, and so cold it makes Calista's cruelty sound warm.
"I object."
Everyone gasps. Hundreds of winged beings turn to look.
A man steps out of the shadows, and the temperature in the room drops ten degrees. He's tall, dressed in black armor that seems to absorb light instead of reflect it. His eyes are pure silver—no pupils, no warmth, just endless cold metal.
Even Calista looks nervous. "Kael Nightborne. The Reaper himself. Since when do you concern yourself with half-breed executions?"
The man—Kael—walks forward slowly. Warriors scramble out of his path. The beings on the thrones lean forward, suddenly interested.
He stops ten feet away from me and stares down with those terrible silver eyes.
"I invoke the Right of Protection," he says, his voice echoing with power. "Bind this girl to me. Her life is mine to guard until I deem her worthy—or until I execute her myself."
The entire throne room erupts in shocked whispers.
Calista's face goes red with fury. "You can't—"
"I can," Kael interrupts. "It's ancient law. You cannot refuse."
His silver eyes finally leave Calista and lock onto me.
And in that moment, I realize something terrifying: I've been saved by someone even more dangerous than my executioners.