They arrived at the southern ruin before dawn, The old world still breathed here not in life, but in memory. Pillars cracked by centuries leaned together like lovers in grief.Stone arches bore runes that had not been uttered aloud in thousands of years. Even the air was different, heavier, as though time itself resisted intrusion.Liora stood at the edge of the ruins, staring into the broken temple, Her sigil pulsed under her skin, Auren stepped beside her. “You okay?”She didn’t answer, Because her body was humming, The crown was near, And it was calling her name, The ruin's staircase had collapsed in several places, forcing them to descend using threads of moonlight Liora bent into steps with a flick of her fingers. Aria followed cautiously.Sera brought up the rear, blades drawn, still not fully trusting what Liora had become, They reached the inner sanctum. Black stone. Silver dust.And at its center: an altar of ribs, Upon it sat a crown unlike anything forged by mortal hands. N
They watched her like she was a stranger, Sera with narrowed eyes, Auren with heartbreak blooming behind his concern, Theron didn’t even speak, Because how do you speak to someone who just returned from the birthplace of gods… looking like one?The room stank of smoke and dying magic. The ritual candles had melted into the floor, leaving burn marks in the shapes of ancient sigils.The air shimmered faintly around Liora-no, around the woman who had returned. She was taller somehow, though she hadn’t grown. Her skin still bore her scars, but they gleamed faintly, like they’d been carved into place rather than left behind.Only Aria met her eyes without flinching, And it was Aria who spoke first. “Tell them what you saw.”Liora’s voice echoed faintly when she answered, “I saw my beginning. And the world’s end.”They sat around the high council table. Not just Nightwind’s pack leaders, but envoys from neighboring clans, the last surviving members of the Seer Order, and two Blood Pact gene
Silence crushed the war room like a hand around a throat, Outside the silver ash still drifted, faint echoes of the mirror-doubles turning to dust in the breeze.But inside, all attention was locked on the single mark now etched into the Citadel’s wall:A sigil that pulsed like a heartbeat, And it was hers Liora’s. Or rather…The version of her she never knew.Aria didn’t speak at first. No one did. Even Sera’s usual fire was muted, her eyes searching Aria’s face for a lie, for anything that would explain this madness.It was Altheya who broke the silence “You erased her name?”Aria nodded slowly. “I had to.”Liora’s voice was like broken glass. “Say it.”Aria closed her eyes. And whispered: “Your true name is… Nimara.”The sound struck Liora like a blow to the chest, Her knees nearly gave out, Because the moment she heard it, something deep inside her something locked, caged, starved opened. And with it came a flood of images.A cradle surrounded by seven flames.A woman crying as she
The storm returned just after midnight, But it wasn’t rain that lashed the Citadel It was ash. Fine. Grey. Silent, Falling from a sky that held no clouds.Sera stood at the top of the western tower, her sword drawn, though there was no enemy in sight, She didn’t need to see it She felt it, The world was holding its breath, And something was about to exhale.The vaults beneath Nightwind were older than the packs themselves, Before the Luna line, Before even the Ash Crown’s dominion, Aria moved through the stone corridors with unerring memory, Liora and Auren following behind her.Each vault was sealed by bloodlines long forgotten, Until now, They came to a stop before a wide iron door laced with glyphs.A strange cold radiated from the stone, not freezing, not icy. A stillness that felt… hollow, Liora touched the center glyph, Her sigil pulsed in response. The door unlocked. And the vault hissed open.Inside: A circle of thrones.Each broken, Each marked by a different crown Ash. Ice.
The sun had fully risen by the time the team returned to Nightwind, But there was no warmth in its light. The encounter in Blackpine had left them scorched, physically unhurt, but mentally singed by what they’d seen Kael. In a woman, In a mirror, In the bloodline In Liora’s shadow.Sera slammed the doors shut behind them. “I don’t like this,” she growled.Altheya’s brow was furrowed. “It’s not resurrection. It’s… something worse. Symbiosis. He’s hiding inside her like a parasite.”Theron added grimly, “Or maybe she was always part of him. We just never saw her.”Auren looked at Liora, She hadn’t said a word since the mirror shattered, He reached for her wrist. “The sigil. It flared during the fight.”Liora nodded slowly. “He’s not just alive.”She turned her palm over. “He’s evolving.”Ancient scrolls littered the desk. Runes burned faintly along the edges. Aria moved between shelves like a ghost, Liora sat cross-legged, the sigil on her wrist glowing dimmer now, like a firebank waiti
The forest was on fire But it wasn’t burning, Blackpine’s trees bled silver sap, their roots twisting away from the soil as if trying to flee. Animals scattered. The protective wards the ancient ones were gone.Theron’s envoy team had barely escaped with their lives, They’d seen her. The woman with Kael’s eyes, But she wasn’t Kael Not exactly. She was… wrong.The scout trembled as he finished his report. “She walked through the flame like it wasn’t there,” he said. “Her skin shimmered. Glass and shadow. Her voice…”He shivered. “It wasn’t human.”Altheya frowned. “Shapeshifter?”“No,” Aria said grimly. “A Mirrorborn.”Sera’s eyes narrowed. “From the Lost Crown?”Liora exhaled. “From the Glass Crown.”She turned to Auren. “We need to go. Now.”“To Blackpine?”“To her.”The team moved swiftly, Liora. Auren. Sera. Theron. Altheya They rode through moonlight like blades, the horses trembling under the weight of magic, As they neared Blackpine’s eastern ridge, the trees grew eerily still,