The forest held its breath.
Birdsong had not yet returned to the Ashfang Wilds. The silence clung to the trees like fog, broken only by Lyra's faint breathing and the occasional rustle of wind through charred leaves.
They had escaped the Whisperer's lair, but no one felt victorious.
Kael crouched near the base of the dying tree, sharpening his dagger in slow, rhythmic strokes. Blood still clung to his arm—some his, some not. His wolf form had taken the brunt of the battle. Aria had begged him to rest, but he refused. The tension in his jaw said more than words ever could.
Nyla stood a few paces away, arms folded, eyes sharp as ever. Though she hadn't voiced it, her mistrust of how easily the rescue had gone lingered. The Whisperer rarely played his last card so early. This felt too… orchestrated.
Aria knelt beside Lyra, brushing strands of hair from her friend's bruised face. A healing rune pulsed on her palm as she pushed gentle warmth into Lyra's ribs. Moonfire was not meant for healing, but Aria had learned to wield it with precision. She was no longer the girl who stumbled through power—she was shaping it now.
Lyra stirred, groaning softly.
"You're safe," Aria whispered.
Lyra blinked, eyes glassy. "You shouldn't have come."
"We never leave our own behind," Kael said without looking up.
Lyra tried to sit, then winced. "He wanted you, Aria. He wasn't trying to kill me… He wanted to turn me. Twist me into something like him."
Nyla's eyes narrowed. "That explains the chains. He was starving your soul."
Lyra's lip trembled, and for the first time, tears fell. "I fought him. Every day. But… sometimes I wanted to give in. I'm not as strong as you think."
"You're stronger," Aria said firmly. "You held out."
Kael finally looked up, eyes softer. "We'll get you to the Haven Circle. The healers there can draw out the last of his touch."
"No," Lyra rasped. "We don't have time. Celene—she's moving. She has others now. Not just shadowborn… She's building an army."
Aria's stomach clenched. "Others?"
"Like you," Lyra whispered. "Blood-marked. Betrayed. Powerful. She calls them the Broken Circle."
Nyla cursed under her breath. "She's making her own court."
Kael stood slowly, blade forgotten. "We need allies."
"We need to be ready," Aria said, rising to her feet. "No more reacting. We start leading."
---
By dusk, they reached a nearby shelter—a hidden grove protected by old magic. Glyphs etched into the stones flared as Aria touched them, recognizing her now as a rightful heir of the Moonborne line.
Inside the barrier, the air felt cleaner. Calmer.
Kael helped Lyra settle on a bed of moss and leaves. Nyla lit a small fire, its orange glow a welcome contrast to the cold memories of the citadel.
Aria sat alone at the edge of the ward, staring into the night.
Kael approached quietly.
"Your hands are shaking," he said.
"I'm fine."
He knelt beside her. "You don't have to lie to me. Not now."
She looked at him then, her mask cracking. "It's not fear. It's anger. We've barely won anything. He's gone—but I know he's not gone. I can feel him like a stain under my skin."
Kael's hand brushed hers. "That's how war feels. You never get all of yourself back. But you learn to live with the parts that remain."
She looked at him, truly looked, and something unspoken passed between them—like a knot pulled tight over too many shared scars.
"Kael… back in the chamber, when the Whisperer tried to turn you against me… did you—?"
"I heard him," Kael said. "And for a second, I wanted to believe it. Because it's easier to walk away than to keep hoping."
Her breath caught.
"But I didn't walk," he finished.
"You stayed."
"I'll always stay."
Their fingers intertwined.
And though no kiss followed, no whispered promise—there was something heavier, deeper in their silence. Something real.
---
Later that night, as the fire dimmed and stars blinked overhead, Lyra called Aria over.
"I remembered something," she whispered, weak but alert. "While I was under… I saw a vision."
"A vision?"
"Of the Vale line. Of you. There's something buried beneath the Lunar Cradle—a weapon. Or maybe a key. I couldn't tell."
Aria frowned. "The Lunar Cradle was sealed after the moon fell. No one goes there."
"Celene will," Lyra said. "Because the thing that killed the Whisperer once—it came from there."
Kael, overhearing, stepped closer. "Then that's where we go next."
Nyla tossed another branch into the fire. "Looks like we're going grave-digging."
Aria exhaled. "Then we move at dawn. But this time—we take the fight to them."
---
Far away, beneath a mountain hollowed by grief, Celene stood before a pool of black glass.
Around her knelt six figures—hooded, marked with broken sigils.
Her voice cut like winter. "The Whisperer was a test. And she passed."
The shadows rippled as the pool showed Aria's face—bruised, determined, glowing.
Celene's golden eyes flared. "Good. It makes her fall more delicious."
And then she smiled.
The war had only begun.