Nyxar POV The mist hadn’t fully faded, even after Thalen stepped clear of the cracked stone. It clung to the clearing like a warning.Ashling crouched near the edge of the circle, fingers pressed to the ground, eyes shut tight. Nyxar watched her lips move silently - some kind of counting, or a memory half-repeated under her breath.He didn’t interrupt.Instead, he turned to Thalen, whose gaze still swept the horizon like she expected the world to look different after her awakening.“You said there are six more,” Nyxar said. “Where?”“Scattered,” Thalen murmured. “Each one placed in hiding by the one who bore the crown before the bloodlines fractured. Some were buried beneath rivers. Others sealed in hollowed mountains. One sleeps beneath fire.”Nyxar frowned. “And you can find them?”“I can feel where they were,” she said. “But time changes things. Some of their prisons may no longer exist. Some may… have unraveled.”“And if they’ve unraveled?” Elira asked grimly.Thalen turned to he
The circle was older than any temple Nyxar had ever seen.It breathed with a kind of slumbering power - deep and rhythmic, like the heartbeat of something that hadn’t moved in centuries but still lived. The moss-covered stone pulsed faintly, silver veins running like cracks down its face. The glowing mist curled at the edges of the fissure, thick with memory and magic.Ashling didn’t step inside the circle. She hovered just outside the ring of roots and worn runes, watching Nyxar with an unreadable expression.“She’s been dreaming for a long time,” the girl whispered. “She won’t wake up kind. Not at first.”Nyxar glanced at Elira, who nodded, fingers flexing near her weapon but not drawing it.“We don’t want kindness,” Nyxar said softly. “We want truth.”He stepped into the circle.The moment his boot touched the inner ring of stone, the air shifted. Windless pressure pressed against his chest, like hands testing him, measuring.“Blood,” a voice hissed - not aloud, but into his skull.
Nyxar POVThe woods beyond the kingdom had changed.Nyxar felt it in his bones - the pulse of the earth slower here, older. The trees weren’t just ancient; they were watching. Even the wind moved differently, like it remembered another era.He dismounted at the fork in the trail, boots crunching softly on moss and gravel. Behind him, Elira’s horse snorted, restless. She was already glancing around with that sharp gaze of hers - practical, clear, impossible to rattle.“Not the usual patrol route,” she muttered, swinging down from the saddle beside him. “I can feel the weight here. Like stepping through a memory.”Nyxar didn’t respond right away. His gaze lingered on a ridge just ahead—an outcrop carved by time and old magic, half-swallowed by vines. A marker stone stood at its center, etched with faded runes.He’d seen it once before. As a child.“A family used to live out here,” he said at last. “Before they were hunted. Bloodline tied to the First Flame. The stories say their daughte
Lyra POV The doors closed with a final echo, heavy wood sealing the chamber behind the departing council.For a long moment, Lyra said nothing. She just stood there at the edge of the great obsidian table, hands braced on its surface, gaze distant.“They want to see how far I’ll bend,” she murmured.“You didn’t bend,” Ekreth said. “You cut.”Lyra smiled faintly. “That’s what worries them.”She turned as Nyxar stepped forward. He didn’t ask - he simply reached out and touched her shoulder, grounding her. She leaned into it, just enough to draw breath again.“Still think they’ll back you?” Nyxar asked quietly.“They’ll back the crown,” she said. “Until it no longer serves them.”“That’s not the same as backing you.”“No,” Lyra agreed. “It isn’t.”Elira lingered just inside the chamber’s edge, watching them with something like reverence. Or awe. Or fear. It was hard to tell in someone so new.“You were brave to speak,” Lyra said, turning to face her. “Few do, in their first month.”El
Lyra POVThe silence that followed the initial pledges wasn’t peace. It was calculation.Eyes drifted. Words began to sharpen.It was Council again.Lord Therin of the East - silver-haired and always precise - cleared his throat. “Your Majesty, if I may raise a point of succession.”A muscle in Lyra’s jaw twitched. “You may raise it. Whether I entertain it is another matter.”Therin bowed his head slightly, but not before she caught the flicker of disapproval in his eyes. “Of course. But with His Majesty’s passing and no heir appointed or born… the matter must be addressed. For the stability of the realm.”Stability. The word sat like rot beneath gold leaf.“Do you suggest the realm is unstable with me on the throne?” Lyra asked coolly.“No,” Therin said carefully. “But the people will ask. The outer provinces already murmur. You are queen, yes. But alone. And lineage-”“Is not the only source of power,” Lyra cut in. “Nor the only way to hold a kingdom.”“But it is the way to pass
Lyra The morning light filtered in through heavy velvet curtains, but it wasn’t golden.It was red. A faint, eerie crimson still lingered, even though the blood moon had sunk hours ago. It bathed her bedroom in shades of faded wine and war.Lyra stood in the center of what had once been their room. Her and Kane’s.His scent was barely clinging to the sheets now. It was softer each morning. Like grief learning to whisper instead of scream.She pulled his old shirt from the edge of the bed - the one she couldn’t bring herself to move - and held it for a heartbeat longer than necessary. The fabric was worn and familiar, as if trying to remind her of who she used to be.But she wasn’t that woman anymore. Not just a grieving mate. Not just a warrior.The gods had whispered to her in dreams. Her wolf stirred with more than pain now. There was a calling wrapped in that blood-drenched vision, something ancient and enormous pressing against the edge of her bones.She exhaled once, stead
Nyxar POV The castle had a strange quiet to it this morning - like the whole structure was holding its breath.Nyxar walked the long corridor alone, footsteps echoing softly against marble and stone. The red light of the moon was fading, but the aftertaste of it still clung to the air - like smoke after a battlefield fire. Not destructive… but not quite clean, either.He found Ekreth in one of the older chambers - a vaulted gallery lined with ancestral portraits and artifacts sealed behind glass. The room smelled of time, wax, and varnish. History thick in the air.Ekreth stood in front of a massive oil painting, hands clasped loosely behind his back. He was in human form, wearing simple black. A fine coat, unadorned but regal. Nyxar stopped just behind him.“You always look for art when something weighs on you?”Ekreth’s gaze didn’t move from the painting. “Not always. But this room remembers more than most. It’s good company, when the present grows too loud.”Nyxar followed his ga
Lyra POVThe chill of the night clung to her skin, but Lyra barely noticed.She stood barefoot on the cold stone balcony, the silk hem of her sleep shirt whispering against her legs. Above her, the blood-red moon hung like a wound in the sky - too bright, too heavy, too… alive.It stared back at her. No longer silver. No longer gentle.The air didn’t move. The city below was silent, frozen in a breathless kind of sleep. Even the wind had stilled, as though the world itself was waiting. Watching. Listening.Her heart pounded, echoing in her ears like war drums. That voice - the Goddess’s voice - still lingered behind her eyes, low and absolute.“You are one of us now. And the gods are waking.”Lyra’s fingers gripped the balcony’s edge. “What does that mean?” she whispered, voice breaking on the silence.No answer came. Yet. But her wolf stirred inside her, wide-eyed and alert.“It means we don’t get to be just a queen anymore,” the wolf said softly. “Not only that. Not ever again.”She
To every reader who has journeyed with me through the shadows and lights of this story - thank you.This book was born from grief and healing, loyalty and rebirth. It was a story of letting go, of learning how to run again even when everything hurts. Lyra's path wasn’t easy - and it’s far from over. The story continues.Book Three - Lyra : Dawn of the Divine The gods have awakened.Lyra thought she'd lost everything - her mate, her future, her place in the world. But the Moon Goddess has chosen her for something far greater than she ever imagined.As blood moon rise and divine omens spread, ancient powers stir beneath the earth and above the stars. The Lycan Kingdom is no longer just a realm of wolves - it is a battleground of gods.Allies will fracture. Legends will rise. And love may become the sharpest weapon of all.Fate will test the heart of the divine - and the strength of those who dare to carry it.