CHAPTER FORTY: WHAT THE WOUND AWAKENED

The world narrowed to pain and motion.

Aria was aware of Luca’s arms around her, his heartbeat thunderous against her ear as he carried her through back corridors and sealed exits. Stone blurred past. Voices echoed, distant and frantic.

Her blood was warm. Too warm.

“Stay with me,” Luca said, his voice tight. “Do not close your eyes.”

“I am not going anywhere,” Aria replied, though her vision pulsed at the edges.

They emerged into the underground passage that led away from the council district, a route only a handful of families knew existed. Luca moved fast, boots striking stone with lethal purpose.

The wound burned.

Not like pain.

Like awakening.

Aria gasped suddenly, fingers digging into Luca’s shoulder. “Stop.”

He halted instantly. “What is it.”

She pressed her palm to her side. The blood had slowed. No. It had stopped.

“That blade,” she said, breath unsteady. “It was not meant to kill me.”

Luca frowned. “It nearly did.”

“No,” Aria whispered. “It was meant to unlock something.”

The air around them shifted.

Luca felt it too now. A pressure that did not crush, but expanded. The passage lights flickered, then steadied, glowing brighter without a visible source.

Aria slid from his arms and stood on her own.

The wound closed beneath her hand, skin knitting together with a faint shimmer. Not healing.

Transforming.

Luca stared. “Aria.”

She lifted her head slowly. Her senses exploded outward, awareness stretching far beyond the tunnel. She could feel the city. The fear. The anger. The cracks spreading through its foundations.

“I can hear them,” she said softly.

“Who,” Luca asked.

“Everyone.”

She staggered, overwhelmed, and Luca caught her again.

“This is new,” he said, steadying her.

Aria nodded. “This is what they were afraid of.”

They reached the safehouse just before dawn, an unmarked structure buried beneath an abandoned transit hub. Luca sealed the entrance personally, layering locks and sigils until even he seemed satisfied.

Inside, healers rushed forward, then stopped short when they saw her.

“She does not need us,” one murmured.

Aria sat slowly, grounding herself. The power inside her was no longer restless. It was structured. Awake.

Like something that had been waiting.

Hours passed in tense quiet.

When the sun rose, it rose on a different city.

News spread faster than containment teams could suppress it. Footage leaked. Proof circulated. The council’s attack on Aria became public knowledge.

Protests erupted.

Alliances fractured.

The city began to choose sides.

Luca stood at the far end of the room, speaking quietly into a secure line. His expression darkened with every word.

“They are mobilizing,” he said when he ended the call. “Not just the council loyalists. The old families.”

Aria looked up. “Your bloodline.”

“Yes.”

She studied him. “They will expect you to stand with them.”

“They expect many things,” Luca replied.

Aria rose and walked toward him. “This is where paths break.”

He met her gaze. “I broke mine years ago.”

“That is not the same as standing against all of them,” she said. “This will cost you everything.”

Luca did not look away. “You are everything.”

Something unspoken settled between them. Heavy. Permanent.

A knock echoed through the chamber.

Security stiffened.

“It is me,” a familiar voice called.

Aria’s eyes narrowed. “Let her in.”

The doors opened to reveal Mara, bloodied, furious, and very much alive.

“They are burning districts,” she said without preamble. “Council loyalists are cracking down hard. Anyone suspected of supporting you is being dragged from their homes.”

Aria felt it again. The city’s pain pressing against her chest.

“They are trying to force my hand,” she said.

“And succeeding,” Mara replied. “The people want you to act.”

Luca crossed his arms. “If she moves now, it becomes war.”

Aria turned slowly. “It already is.”

She walked to the center of the room.

“I did not ask for this power,” she said. “But it was given to me because someone believed I could bear its weight.”

She looked at each of them in turn.

“I will not rule through fear,” she continued. “But I will not allow fear to rule this city either.”

Mara swallowed. “What are you saying.”

Aria closed her eyes briefly, then opened them with new clarity.

“I am forming a provisional order,” she said. “One that answers to the people, not bloodlines or councils.”

Luca exhaled sharply. “That is a declaration.”

“Yes,” Aria replied. “And an invitation.”

“To who,” Mara asked.

“To anyone willing to protect this city without owning it.”

Silence followed.

Then one by one, they knelt.

Not all of them.

But enough.

Luca did not kneel.

He stepped beside her.

Outside, the city trembled, caught between collapse and rebirth.

And deep beneath the ruins of an ancient hall, the woman of prophecy watched the threads shift.

“Too soon,” she murmured. “But inevitable.”

She rose from her seat at last.

Because the war was no longer coming.

It had begun.