Chapter Seventeen

The Gate was sealed. The Sovereign was gone.

But Lyra couldn’t sleep.

She sat by the dying embers of the Accord’s victory fires, her cloak wrapped tightly around her shoulders. The scent of ash and blood still clung to the air. Even with the sky quiet and the land no longer weeping shadow, something inside her refused to settle.

Not fear. Not even sorrow.

Restlessness.

Kaelen had fallen asleep not far from her, curled around the small Seer child, whose name they still didn’t know. The girl had wandered into the Gate’s chaos barefoot, fearless and then simply stayed, curling beside Kaelen after the battle as though she’d belonged there all along.

Lyra watched them now, trying to understand what the child was. Who she was.

Because the girl didn’t speak. She only watched. With eyes too ancient for her face.

And now, even the stars felt like they watched through her.

A soft voice stirred the air.

“You should rest, too.”

Lyra turned.

Elder Ysara stood at the edge of the firelight, her shadow long, her white robes stained with ash.

“I can’t sleep,” Lyra admitted.

Ysara studied her for a long moment, then sat beside her, lowering herself slowly onto the cold earth.

“Victory often feels heavier than defeat,” the old seer murmured.

Lyra drew her knees to her chest. “Is this victory?”

Ysara glanced toward the ridge. The place where the Gate had once torn the world open now lay silent, sealed by a perfect spiral of silvered stone. A scar in the land. A warning.

“You lived. The world lived,” Ysara said. “And the Sovereign’s power is broken. That is enough for now.”

Lyra’s voice turned hard. “But it’s not over.”

“No,” Ysara agreed softly. “It never is.”

---

Morning came with cold sunlight and sobered cheers.

What remained of the Vowbound and the Accord began rebuilding their outposts and tending to the wounded. Scouts returned with pockets of Hollowed magic dissipating, curling back into the bones of the land.

But some things couldn’t be undone.

Lyra stood at the head of the largest funeral pyre.

Dozens of wolves had fallen.

She knew many of their names now, she knew what they fought for, what they left behind. One by one, their bodies were laid to rest beneath the smoke and sky. Each name spoken aloud. Each death honored.

Kaelen stood beside her, silent.

When the flames were lit, she whispered a prayer she didn’t know she remembered.

“May the moon carry you. May the fire free you. May your names echo in truth.”

The fire caught. The smoke rose.

And still, the girl didn’t speak.

---

Later that day, as the others prepared to return to the Accord’s stronghold, Lyra knelt beside the Seer child, who now sat cross-legged near the ruins of the command tent, drawing spirals in the dirt.

“Do you remember your name?” Lyra asked gently.

The child blinked once. Then nodded.

Lyra waited.

The girl whispered, “Iris.”

It sounded like a breeze.

Kaelen approached from behind. “Where did you come from, Iris?”

The child tilted her head, then pointed toward the eastern cliffs.

Lyra followed her gaze, but saw only mountains.

“There’s nothing there,” Kaelen said.

Iris looked up at him.

“There will be.”

---

Back at the Accord, everything had changed.

Word of the battle had spread beyond the northern forests. Refugees from disbanded packs came bearing relics, scrolls, and stories. Messages from distant territories, even the ones that had long shunned the Accord begged for audience.

The world had seen the Gate open.

And now they wanted to know what came next.

Lyra didn’t want to be their leader.

But they came to her anyway.

---

The Council of Reformation formed by midspring.

Seven leaders.

Lyra was not among them.

She refused the seat. Chose instead to be “Guardian of the Threshold” She was an advisor, a witness, not a ruler.

Kaelen accepted a position as “Warden of the Broken Lands,” the regions most damaged by the Hollowed’s corruption. He refused to rebuild Nightshade’s old throne. Instead, he led his warriors into the wilds, helping other packs find safety and unity.

He always returned to Lyra. Never late. Never lost.

But each time, he came back a little changed.

And so did she.

---

A month after the battle, Iris spoke again.

“There’s a second seal,” she said quietly, staring into her reflection in a pool of moonlight.

Lyra’s stomach dropped.

“Where?”

Iris didn’t answer.

But that night, Lyra dreamed.

She saw it: buried deep beneath a black sea, an altar of bone encased in salt and time. Another tear. Another Gate.

But this one didn’t lead out.

It led beneath.

---

Ysara confirmed it the next morning.

“There were always two,” the Elder admitted. “The Sovereign was born of the first. But the second… the second was sealed long before Elira.”

Lyra’s heart thudded. “Then it’s older.”

“Older than wolves. Older than witches. A rift between life and something before.”

Kaelen stepped forward. “Why wasn’t this in any Accord record?”

Ysara’s eyes narrowed. “Because we burned the records. To prevent the Sovereign’s kind from ever finding it.”

“And now?” Lyra asked.

Ysara turned to Iris.

The child met her gaze, calm as still water.

“The seals call to her,” Ysara whispered. “And if the second opens… nothing you’ve faced so far will compare.”

---

That night, Lyra stood at the edge of the northern cliffs.

Kaelen found her there, as always.

“You knew it wasn’t over,” he said.

She didn’t answer.

“You always knew,” he said again.

Lyra turned to him. Her eyes weren’t sad. They were steady.

“I’m not afraid of more battles,” she said. “I’m afraid of becoming something I can’t return from.”

“You won’t,” he said simply.

“How do you know?”

“Because the fire doesn’t consume you. It answers you.”

She looked out over the land.

“I’ll go,” she said. “To the eastern sea. I’ll find the second seal. I’ll finish what Elira began.”

Kaelen placed his hand over hers.

“Then I’ll go with you.”

---

The journey would take them through dead forests, across forgotten cities, and into waters not even maps dared mark.

But for now, they stood together beneath a moon no longer cursed.

One victory behind them.

And a new war waiting in the deep.