LIRA
He wasn’t supposed to be real. The stories didn’t do him justice. Caius Vexmoor stood like a shadow carved from moonlight—broad-shouldered, cloaked in black leathers, and dangerous. His presence was a storm wrapped in silence, and his silver eyes… gods, those eyes. Like frost over steel. Cold. Sharp. Unrelenting. But it wasn’t the strength in his stance or the silent power he commanded that shook me. It was the way he looked at me. Like I already belonged to him. “Step back, Lira,” Tobias warned, his voice tight with authority, his stance rigid. I could feel the tension thrumming through him, the way his energy shifted as he stood between us like a wall ready to collapse. But Caius didn’t stop. He took a single step forward—and that one step changed everything. “I won’t repeat myself, Tobias,” he said, voice low, carved from ice and stone. “She comes with me.” My heart kicked hard against my ribs, as if it recognized something my mind couldn’t yet grasp. I tasted iron at the back of my tongue, my breath catching. “Why?” I asked, surprised by the steadiness of my voice. Inside, I was trembling like a leaf caught in a gale. “Why me?” He looked at me then—really looked. Not the surface glance that measured threats or weaknesses, but the kind that saw through bone and blood and memory. And for the briefest second, something flickered behind his gaze. Doubt. Sadness. Longing. I couldn’t be sure. “You’ll understand soon enough,” Caius murmured. It wasn’t a threat. Not a promise. Just a truth waiting to unravel. But that didn’t make it any less terrifying. There was a moment—so sharp, so fragile—where I thought I might be able to move, to speak again. But I didn’t get the chance. Because everything shattered. The Duskborne warriors surged forward like lightning unbound, moving with a terrifying unity. Cloaks flared, blades flashed, and the air exploded with the metallic tang of magic and violence. Tobias shifted beside me—bones snapping, fur erupting, his body twisting into the powerful wolf I’d always known. His silver-gray form hit the earth with a growl that cracked through the night like thunder. He didn’t hesitate. His instincts overtook him. But neither did Caius. He didn’t flinch. He didn’t raise a hand. He didn’t even blink. Because his warriors were already there. They emerged from the shadows of the trees like wraiths—silent, calculating, lethal. They moved through the chaos with precision only trained killers possessed. No war cries. No wasted movement. Only blood and smoke and silence. Tobias lunged, jaws bared, aiming straight for Caius’s throat. But Caius was gone. One blink—and he was right in front of me. His hand closed around my arm—not rough, but final. His grip was the kind you couldn’t break, not even with all the strength in the world. Not forceful, yet immovable. Like I was already claimed. Like I’d always been his. “Let me go!” I thrashed, panic crashing over me like a wave. My blood roared in my ears, my vision pulsing at the edges. My fingers clawed at his arm, but it was like trying to tear apart a mountain. I couldn’t breathe. And yet… His touch wasn’t magic. It wasn’t brute strength. But it felt different. Familiar. Terrifying. Like I belonged in his arms. Like I had always belonged. Bond. The word whispered through me, unspoken, undeniable. A truth etched into my marrow. Caius looked down at me, eyes flickering with something unreadable. “I’m not here to hurt you.” “You already are,” I hissed. And still, he didn’t let go. Behind us, growls tore through the air. Claws raked across earth and skin, wolves collided with warriors in an explosion of fury—but none of it mattered. Not in this moment. Not when the world had narrowed to his hand on my arm and the sound of my heart breaking. “You don’t belong here,” he said softly, as if the words themselves hurt. “And I won’t leave without you.” “Even if I say no?” I whispered. His jaw flexed. He didn’t answer. Because we both knew—some choices weren’t ours to make. Some were written into blood. Into bone. Into fate. I tried to ignore the way my skin burned beneath his touch, the way something ancient stirred inside me, like a memory that didn’t belong to me—or maybe one that had been taken. “Please,” I said, but I didn’t even know what I was pleading for. For him to let go. For him to stay. For the bond to be a lie. His eyes softened, just for a breath. “I didn’t choose this either, Lira.” And that—that shattered me more than anything. Because I’d expected hunger. Command. Possession. Not regret. Not pain. The battlefield raged around us. I could hear Tobias’s snarl, hear the thuds of bodies colliding, the sharp clang of blades meeting blades. But all I could feel was the bond. Pulling. Tearing. Binding. My knees buckled, but Caius caught me. His arms wrapped around me, strong, certain. And for a fleeting, dangerous second—I didn’t want him to let go. I hated myself for it. “I don’t know you,” I whispered, my voice breaking. “But I know you,” he said. “I’ve seen you. In dreams. In visions. And I swore, the moment I found you, I would never let you fall.” He leaned in, so close I could feel his breath ghost across my cheek. “You don’t remember yet. But you will.” And just like that, the world tilted. A flare of heat surged through me, sharp and golden, blooming beneath my ribs. Not pain. Not fear. Recognition. A name—his name—echoed through something deeper than thought. And I realized this wasn’t the beginning. It was the return. The return of something old. Ancient. Ours. And as I stared into those silver eyes, I knew the truth would destroy me. Or set me free.CAIUSThe morning after the Veil always feels too bright.Even this one.We camped on the ridge just beyond its reach—bone-tired, grief-stricken, and not entirely convinced the nightmare was behind us. The Ashen Veil still hung at our backs like a second shadow, thin and curling across the hills, refusing to vanish completely.But this morning… it hadn’t followed.That meant something.A breeze stirred the dying embers of our fire. The scent of pine and cold earth replaced the Veil’s burnt stench. I sat against a boulder, the dagger wrapped in blood-inked cloth beside me. It pulsed like a second heartbeat.Lira stood some distance away, her cloak pulled tightly around her. She hadn’t said much since Daren’s sacrifice. Neither had I.There weren’t words for that kind of loss.The others moved quietly, if at all. Dain sat cross-legged, meditating or praying—maybe both. Morgana traced protective runes into the dirt around the perimeter, her lips moving silently. The remaining warriors—Al
CAIUSThe path to the third gate felt heavier than any that had come before.Not because of magic. Not because of mist. But because we knew what waited.There was no illusion this time. No test of mind or power. The Veil had taken its games and replaced them with something ancient and cruel.A price.And the toll was life.The Veil thinned around us as we walked, as if retreating to make way for something worse. Trees gave way to cracked earth. The fog settled into still sheets across the ground, refusing to rise. The sky above looked bruised, stained with deep purples and reds, as if the realm itself were bleeding.Those who remained wore it on their faces—haunted, gaunt, silent. No one spoke of the Hollow Mirror. Some wouldn’t even look at each other. Not after the truths they'd seen, or the lies they'd nearly believed.Lira walked ahead of me, her steps steady, her jaw set.She hadn’t faltered once since we left the second gate.I had.The Hollow had broken something in me. I wasn’
LIRAWe had the dagger.It pulsed at Caius’s side like a living thing—dark steel veined with molten red, forged to wound something far worse than any creature we’d faced so far. He hadn't used it yet, not truly. Even carrying it seemed to strain him.But that didn’t matter.The mission was clear: get the dagger, get out of the Ashen Veil, and bring it to the battlefield before the Dark Lord rose in full.Only one problem.The Veil wasn’t going to let us leave.The temple crumbled behind us in slow silence. Its stones, once glowing, faded into dull gray. Morgana sealed the altar before we left, just in case something worse crawled out of it.We’d hoped it would be as simple as returning the way we came.It wasn’t.The mist didn’t clear. The ground didn’t still. And the fog ahead of us thickened, curling upward like smoke from a dying god’s lungs.Dain stood at the edge of the ruined threshold, blade in one hand, a blood-soaked charm in the other. He stared into the mist like it might bi
LIRAThe shield cracked.Not like glass. Not like stone. Like bone. A sound too deep, too familiar, like something sacred was being broken open.I felt it first—a ripple in my ribs, then a sting in my palm where blood still dripped from the cut. The air screamed around us, pressing against my barrier from all sides. Each impact throbbed through my bones.“We’re losing time,” I gasped.My hands trembled. The light flickered.Caius fought just beyond the barrier, a blur of steel and shadow. The dagger in his hand pulsed with red fire, its edge singing through the air. Every time he struck, a shadow screamed—not just in sound, but in essence. They weren’t just hurt; they were undone.He was magnificent.Terrifying.And alone.“Hold the line!” Dain shouted, already intercepting a beast that had slipped past. His blade met the creature’s twisted claws with a spark of red and gold. Power surged from his strike—truth magic, unraveling the lie of the monster’s existence.But they kept coming.
LIRAAs soon as we stepped into the temple, something changed.The air turned heavy. My chest felt tight, like I couldn’t breathe deeply. The ground seemed to shift beneath my feet, even though I knew it wasn’t moving. The walls were covered in dark vines, and the fog didn’t float anymore—it crawled.“This place is wrong,” I said quietly.Caius walked beside me. His hand stayed near mine, steady and strong. I could feel his tension. He didn’t speak, but his eyes scanned every corner, watching for danger.Behind us, Morgana whispered spells under her breath. A soft glow surrounded us—her protective shield. Dain led the way through the ruins, his sword ready, and Aldric followed close behind him.We reached the center of the temple. There, sitting on a stone table, was a black box.It wasn’t big. It looked simple at first glance. But strange symbols moved across its surface. They glowed faintly, as if something inside was trying to get out.When I took a step forward, my heart started b
CAUISThe air felt heavier with every step—thicker, denser. Not like mist, not even like magic. It was something older. Something breathing.It clung to my skin like oil and filled my lungs like ash.The Veil was no longer just leaking through the seams of the world—it was bleeding. Crashing down around us like a dying god trying to take everything with it.Shadows skittered at the corners of my eyes, never fully forming, always just a little too fast to see. I didn’t acknowledge them. We all knew what they were.Tricks. Probes. Warnings.The Veil was trying to make us turn around. To falter. And it was getting desperate.I hadn’t realized how loud silence could be until we’d crossed that line—where even the wind was afraid to move, where breath sounded like thunder, and a heartbeat could give away your position to things that didn’t belong in this world.Fenrir was bound.Still.The ache of that binding hadn’t left me. It pulsed behind my ribs like something broken that hadn’t yet ac