The peace didn’t last.
It never does.
Three days after the rebirth of the Council, after the Veilbreaker seat had been claimed, after my mother stood before the gathered supernaturals and blessed the bond with tears in her eyes—three days of quiet, of whispered promises, of Kael’s hand brushing mine as we walked the torch-lit corridors like we belonged to each other—three days of *almost believing* it was over—
And then, the dream came.
I was in the Obsidian Chamber again. The air thick with the scent of old blood and scorched magic. The runes on the floor pulsed with a sickly crimson light, not gold, not silver. The Blood Moon Ritual altar stood cracked, its surface stained with something dark and viscous. I stepped forward, my boots silent on the stone, my breath shallow. I didn’t want to be here. Didn’t want to see it again. But the dream held me like a vise.
And then I saw her.
Lyra.
She stood at the altar, her dark hair cascading over one shoulder, her crimson dress torn at the thigh, her lips parted in a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. She looked… different. Not weaker. Not broken.
Changed.
Her skin was paler, almost translucent, her veins visible beneath the surface, threaded with something dark—oil-black, pulsing. Her eyes, once a deep, seductive red, were now two pits of void, like the wraith that had torn at Silas’s soul. She held a dagger in her hand—forged from shadow, its blade pulsing with stolen magic.
“You think you’ve won,” she said, her voice a whisper that echoed through the chamber. “You think the bond is safe. That Kael is yours. That the truce is unbroken.”
My breath caught.
“But I’m still here,” she said, stepping toward me. “And I’m not alone.”
“You’re dead,” I said, my voice steady. “The prison collapsed. No one survived.”
She laughed—soft, cold. “And yet, here I am.”
“Vexis,” I said, my pulse spiking. “He took you. Used you. Just like he used the Southern Clans. Just like he used Maeve.”
She didn’t flinch. Just tilted her head, her void-eyes gleaming with something feral. “He didn’t *use* me, Opal. He freed me. From duty. From loyalty. From the chains of House Nocturne.”
“And what did he give you in return?” I asked. “A leash? A curse? A mark that turns you into his puppet?”
She stepped forward, her boots silent on the stone. “He gave me truth. The truth about the bond. About you. About Kael. And about your mother.”
My breath stilled.
“She’s not as innocent as you think,” Lyra said, her voice dropping to a whisper. “She knew. She knew Vexis would come. Knew he would take her. And she let it happen. For you. To protect you. To keep you from becoming what you are now.”
“Liar,” I said, stepping back. “You don’t know her. You don’t know *me*.”
“But I do,” she said, stepping closer. “And I know what you fear most. Not death. Not betrayal. Not even losing Kael.”
She leaned in, her breath cold against my ear.
“You fear becoming *her*,” she whispered. “A woman who sacrifices everything for a daughter who doesn’t understand. A woman who lies to protect. A woman who loves so fiercely, she’s willing to be hated for it.”
My breath hitched.
And then—
She lunged.
The dagger flashed—a streak of shadow—and I woke screaming.
I sat up in bed, my breath coming in ragged gasps, my body drenched in sweat. The obsidian sheets were tangled around my legs, the fire in the hearth burned low, its flames tinged with silver. The bond hummed beneath my skin, warm, alive, *real*. But something was wrong.
Not in the bond.
Not in the magic.
In the *air*.
The room was too quiet. Too still. Like the world was holding its breath.
“Opal.”
Kael’s voice. Rough. Concerned.
I turned. He was beside me, his golden eyes scanning my face, his hand already reaching for me. He wasn’t in half-shift. Wasn’t armored. Just… present. Human, in a way I’d never seen him before.
“You’re shaking,” he said, pulling me into his chest. His body was a furnace, his heartbeat steady, grounding. “Another dream?”
I nodded, my face buried in his coat, my breath trembling. “Lyra. She’s alive. She’s… changed.”
He didn’t flinch. Just held me tighter. “Then we face her. Again.”
“And if she’s not alone?” I asked, lifting my head. “If Vexis is using her? If she’s not just a threat—but a weapon?”
He didn’t answer. Just brushed his thumb along the bond mark on my neck.
Fire shot through me.
A gasp tore from my lips. My body arched toward him, betraying me completely. My magic surged, rising like a tide, drawn to his like it had its own will.
“Don’t,” I whispered, but it wasn’t a refusal. It was a plea.
“Then tell me to stop,” he said, his voice rough. “Tell me you don’t want this. Tell me you don’t want *me*.”
I opened my mouth.
But no words came.
Because I couldn’t say it.
Because I didn’t know if it was true.
And in that moment—
The door burst open.
Silas stood in the threshold, his dark coat dusted with ash, his expression grim. “We have a problem.”
Kael didn’t move. Just kept his eyes on me, his hand still on my neck, his body still pressed against mine.
“What is it?” I asked, wiping my tears.
“The Northern Pack border,” Silas said. “A patrol was attacked. Not by humans. Not by rebels. By something… *other*.”
My breath caught.
“What kind of something?” Kael asked, his voice low.
“Shadow,” Silas said. “Like the wraith. But… sentient. It spoke. Called itself ‘the first.’”
“Lyra,” I said, my voice breaking. “It’s her. She’s not just alive. She’s *evolved*.”
“And she’s coming,” Silas said. “The patrol didn’t just see her. They saw the Citadel. From the ridge. She’s watching us.”
Kael didn’t flinch. Just pulled me closer, his arms locking around me, holding me like I was something fragile. Something *his*.
“Then we prepare,” he said. “We fortify the Citadel. We gather the packs. We protect what’s ours.”
“And if she wants more than destruction?” I asked. “If she wants the bond? If she wants to *take* it?”
He turned, his golden eyes burning into mine. “Then she’ll have to go through me.”
“And if she breaks you?” I demanded. “If she uses the same magic that took Vexis? If she—”
“Then I’ll burn,” he said, stepping closer. “But I won’t let her touch you.”
My breath hitched.
He wasn’t just saying it to control me.
He *meant* it.
And that—
That was the most dangerous thing of all.
We moved through the torch-lit corridors, the bond humming between us, the silence heavier than any words. The Citadel was already in motion—Northern Pack envoys rushing to their posts, vampire sentries taking the upper balconies, Fae glamours flickering like dying embers. The air was thick with the scent of old magic and fear. Not panic. Not chaos. But the quiet hum of a war machine waking.
“She’s not just attacking,” I said, my voice low. “She’s *testing* us. Seeing how we respond. How strong the bond is. How loyal the packs are.”
“Then we give her a show,” Kael said, stepping into the Council chamber. The dais stood at the center, the sigil of the Blood Moon Bond glowing faintly. The High Witch waited, her milky eyes sharp. “We gather the Council. We show her we’re united.”
“And if she attacks during the meeting?” I asked. “If she uses the same rift magic as the wraith?”
“Then we’re ready,” Silas said, stepping forward. “The Archives are sealed. The wards reinforced. The Blood Pact is whole.”
“But she’s not after the Pact,” I said, stepping to the dais. “She’s after *me*. After the bond. After the truth.”
“Then we use it,” Kael said, stepping beside me. “We lure her in. We trap her. We end this.”
“And if she’s not alone?” I asked. “If Vexis is still out there? If he’s using her as a vessel?”
He didn’t answer. Just reached up and brushed his thumb along the bond mark on my neck.
Fire shot through me.
A gasp tore from my lips. My body arched toward him, betraying me completely. My magic surged, rising like a tide, drawn to his like it had its own will.
“Don’t,” I whispered, but it wasn’t a refusal. It was a plea.
“Then tell me to stop,” he said, his voice rough. “Tell me you don’t want this. Tell me you don’t want *me*.”
I opened my mouth.
But no words came.
Because I couldn’t say it.
Because I didn’t know if it was true.
And in that moment—
The gong sounded.
Deep. Resonant. Like a heartbeat. The signal. The Council had gathered.
We stepped onto the dais, our boots silent on the stone, the bond humming between us like a live wire. The whispers began the moment we appeared—low, urgent, *hungry*. They’d seen the bond mark. They’d seen me declare the new Council. And now, they wanted proof. Not just of the bond. Of *us*.
“They’re saying you’re weak,” a Northern Pack envoy murmured as we passed. His eyes flickered to my neck, to the glowing sigil. “That the bond is draining you.”
“Let them talk,” I said, lifting my chin. “I don’t care what they believe.”
“You should,” Kael said, his voice low. “Rumors have power. Especially when they’re laced with truth.”
She didn’t answer.
Because she knew I was right.
The truth was the most dangerous weapon of all.
We reached the dais as the first light of dawn broke over the Citadel, painting the stone spires in blood. The High Witch waited—ancient, her eyes milky with age, her hands resting on a staff of blackened bone. Behind her, the Northern Packs stood in formation, their presence a wall of loyalty. The vampires watched from the upper balconies, their faces impassive. The Fae lingered in the shadows, their glamours shifting like smoke.
And then—
They saw us.
The crowd stilled. The whispers died. Every eye turned to the bond mark on my neck—glowing faintly, pulsing in time with my heartbeat. And then—to Kael. To his hand, still gripping mine. To the way he stood beside me, not in front, not behind, but *equal*.
“The Council is gathered,” the High Witch declared, her voice echoing through the chamber. “By the new laws, we meet to discuss threats to the truce. The Northern Pack border has been breached. A shadow entity—”
“Is not a threat,” I said, stepping forward. My voice was steady. Calm. “It’s a *message*. A warning. And if you doubt its source, then let me show you the proof.”
The High Witch didn’t flinch. Just turned her milky eyes to me. “The law demands it, witch. The Council must be informed.”
“Then let them see,” I said, raising my hand.
And I burned.
Moonfire erupted from my fingertips—not in a wave, not in a blast—
But in a *pulse*.
It didn’t hurt anyone. Didn’t burn.
It *revealed*.
For a single, blinding second, the entire chamber was flooded with silver light—and in that light, I saw it.
The truth.
Not just in the bond.
Not just in the magic.
But in *us*.
And then—
The light faded.
The room stilled.
And the High Witch—
She didn’t speak.
Just stepped back.
And in that silence—
I knew.
The game had changed.
Because now, it wasn’t just about revenge.
It wasn’t just about the bond.
It was about *truth*.
And I would burn the world to get her back.
But as I stood beside Kael, his hand brushing mine, his presence a shadow at my back—
I couldn’t shake the feeling that the real danger wasn’t out there in the frozen wilds.
It was standing right beside me.
And I wasn’t sure if I wanted to kill her anymore.
Or keep her.