Chapter 9: Ashes of Oaths.

Kael’s POV

“Don’t you dare die on me, Lyra.”

The words left me before I could think, raw and sharp, carried on the growl in my throat. They didn’t sound like the steady voice of the Blackthorn heir I had trained to be. They sounded like the voice of a man standing at the edge of ruin.

She writhed in the dirt before me, her body breaking against itself, as though her bones were being shattered and remade a hundred times in the space of a breath. Claws dug trenches into the ground, splintering roots and carving the earth open. Her scream tore through the clearing and echoed through the forest, too wild and too hollow. It didn’t sound like Lyra anymore. It sounded like something older and darker. I knew what it was.

The Hollow Wolf, the monster I had been raised to kill. The shadow whispered about in Blackthorn halls, the curse my father’s bloodline was chained to destroy.

I should have struck her down. I should have ended it then, before the thing inside her took full form. My blade was already in my hand, the silver runes along its edge glowing faintly as though eager to bite into flesh. Every lesson screamed at me: Do it now, Kael. Kill it before it kills us all.

But I didn’t move.

My chest burned, and my breath caught, because every convulsion of her body slammed into me as though my own ribs cracked and my own skin split. The mate bond dragged me closer, pulling me into her suffering, binding me to her pain. I felt every shiver, every breathless gasp, like my veins were tied to hers.

I cursed under my breath and squeezed the blade tighter. I couldn’t kill her, not yet and maybe not ever.

Memories flared behind my eyes. My father’s hand on my shoulder the night he carved the oath into my skin with the Oathblade, the sting of blood and steel mingling. His voice had been steady then: “When the Hollow rises, it must fall. You are my son. You are the blade.”

But my father hadn’t told me everything. He hadn’t told me why his lungs blackened. He hadn’t told me why he coughed blood every night until his body wasted away. He hadn’t told me what price the oath demanded and now the Hollow Wolf itself stood before me, peeling free of Lyra’s body like smoke given shape.

It was tall and jagged, its form wrong in ways my mind fought to understand. Its eyes glowed pale white, hollow and endless, its teeth too long for its jaws. Shadows dripped off its body and sank into the earth like poison.

It turned its gaze on me and smiled.

“You,” it said. Not with sound, but with a voice that dug straight into my head, vibrating through my skull. “Blackthorn’s son. Oath’s heir. I know you.”

My stomach twisted. My grip on the blade tightened. “Stay out of my head.”

The Hollow laughed, while the forest seemed to shudder with it. “Your father thought he could chain me. He thought blood and steel could bind me. Did he tell you what his oath cost him? Did he tell you why he rotted from the inside before the end?”

I bared my teeth. Rage surged, but so did doubt. My father’s death had never been clean. It hadn’t looked like any illness I knew. His veins had darkened, his eyes sunken. He had wasted away while whispering of the oath, as though bound to it even in death.

“Liar,” I spat.

“Am I?” The Hollow tilted its head, and its pale eyes gleamed. “Strike her down, and I am free. Spare her and I'll rot you both from within. Either way, boy, you lose.”

Lyra screamed again, thrashing, shadows tearing from her skin. My chest ached with it. I could barely breathe.

“Kael!”

Eira’s voice cut through the storm. She stumbled into the clearing, hair loose and eyes wide. Magic shimmered on her fingers, violet sparks crackling in the air. She raised her hands toward Lyra.

“I can weaken it,” she shouted. “I can help...”

I moved before I thought, blade flashing as I slammed her against a tree. The runes on the steel glowed inches from her throat.

“Stay back,” I snarled.

Her eyes widened, tears already spilling. “You don’t understand...”

“No, witch. I understand too well.” My voice dropped to a growl. “Every spell you’ve cast has brought her closer to this. Every lie you told pushed her further. Try again, and I’ll cut you down before you touch her.”

Her breath shook, guilt thick in her face. “If I hadn’t done it, the Coven would’ve killed her long ago. They told me she’s the lock. Don’t you see? Lyra isn’t just cursed; she holds the Hollow inside. If the lock breaks, the world burns.”

The words hit like a blade to my chest, the lock and the cage. If Lyra were the prison, then killing her wouldn’t save us. It would unleash the very thing I was sworn to destroy. My father’s oath, my entire bloodline’s purpose, but it was all a lie and equally a trap.

I shoved Eira away, my blade still ready, while my head was spinning.

Then Lyra groaned. I turned in time to see her stir, her claws sinking into the dirt and her chest heaving. Slowly and painfully, her eyes opened. For a heartbeat, they were hers, golden, burning and alive.

And then they weren’t. The pale light of the Hollow flickered in her gaze. Her lips parted, and when she spoke, two voices poured out, hers and the monster’s.

“Kael.”

My chest seized. The bond surged, burning and binding me tighter. She looked at me like she knew me, like I was salvation and damnation both.

“My mate,” she whispered, her hand twitching toward me.

Then her lips curled, teeth flashing. “My prey.”

She lunged.

I barely got the blade up in time. Steel met claw, sparks flying as the impact rattled my bones. She pressed harder, her strength monstrous, nothing like the girl I had first seen beneath the Blood Moon.

Her face hovered inches from mine, her breath hot, her eyes flickering between gold and pale white. The bond burned like fire, dragging me closer, even as the Hollow snarled through her.

“Fight it,” I growled, forcing the blade forward, my muscles straining. “If you’re still in there, fight me!”

Her claws scraped down the blade, shrieking like steel on stone. Her voice broke, fractured. “I… I can’t…” Then the Hollow twisted through her mouth, “She doesn’t want to.”

My chest twisted. My arms shook. Every strike was harder, faster and more violent. She drove me back step by step, her claws flashing and her teeth bared. The forest rang with the clash of steel and shadow.

And still, I couldn’t cut her down.

Every time her claws came close, I prayed she’d miss. Every time the blade nearly touched her flesh, I prayed I’d falter. It is now a matter of duty or bond and oath or mate.

The Hollow laughed through her, its voice mingling with hers. “You are weak, Blackthorn. You cannot kill what you love.”

My rage surged. I shoved forward with a roar, blade straining against her claws. Sweat stung my eyes, and blood roared in my ears.

“If you’re still in there, Lyra,” I snarled, “then fight me, or I’ll end this myself.”

Her eyes locked on mine, pale and gold warring like storm and fire. For a heartbeat, I saw her, the girl beneath the curse, the defiance, the fury and the life.

And then she lunged again, claws slamming against the blade.

The moment her claws met steel, I knew: either I would kill her, or she would kill me.