Chapter Six: The Blood That Binds

Part One

Lyra

The woman in white smiled like she’d never broken a promise.

“Hello, daughter.”

Lyra’s world fractured at the edges.

She had seen her mother only in glimpses—memories half-buried by pain and time. A lullaby hummed in the dark. A silhouette leaving in the rain. The scent of ash and snow when she was taken from the Hollowed Ones and hidden among the mortals.

Now that face—so achingly familiar and terrifying all at once—stood less than ten feet away, bathed in moonlight, her golden eyes alight with secrets and something worse: intent.

“You’re supposed to be dead,” Lyra whispered.

Her mother stepped forward as if she had every right to be here, in the clearing, under the Gate’s sleeping shadow. “I’ve been waiting, Lyra. Watching. Protecting you, in ways you’ll never understand.”

Kael moved between them, his hand instinctively reaching for his blade.

“You don’t look like a protector to me,” he growled.

The woman ignored him, her eyes still locked on Lyra. “He doesn’t trust me. That’s good. He shouldn’t. Trust is for the blind, and the weak.”

Lyra’s stomach twisted. Her mother’s voice had the same softness from her memories, but it was undercut with something cold, controlled—practiced. She looked like a queen of ice, woven from myths and old blood.

“I don’t understand,” Lyra said, her voice barely holding. “Why show yourself now?”

“Because the Gate stirs,” her mother said simply. “And you’ve awakened the bond.”

Lyra blinked. “You know about Kael?”

“Of course. He’s the Guardian bloodline.” Her eyes flicked to Kael, unimpressed. “Meant to be your leash, should you break the world open.”

“Yet I chose to break the world for her,” Kael said coldly.

A flicker of emotion—something between rage and admiration—touched the woman’s face.

“I see that. You’ve accelerated the timeline.”

“What do you want?” Lyra’s fists clenched. “Why are you really here?”

“To give you truth,” her mother said, stepping into the circle without hesitation. The glyphs pulsed but didn’t burn her. “To give you choice.”

“Choice?” Lyra laughed bitterly. “Where was my choice when you left me? When the Hollowed Ones nearly killed me trying to make me remember who I was? When Kael bled for me because I couldn’t control what’s inside me?”

Her mother didn’t flinch. “I left you so you could survive. I made the Hollowed Ones believe you were weak, unworthy, so they would spare you. I suppressed your bloodline. I buried your truth in spells even they couldn’t untangle.”

Lyra staggered back. “You… you hid me from them?”

“And from the Varyn. From everyone.”

Kael stared. “Why?”

“Because Lyra was born from both bloodlines,” she said. “The Hollowed Priestess’s line and the Varyn Guardian’s blood. My blood. And his.”

The world tilted.

“What did you say?” Kael asked slowly, his voice suddenly dark.

Lyra’s breath stopped.

“You’re lying,” she whispered. “My father… He died before I was born. The Hollowed Ones said—”

“They lied.”

Her mother’s voice was gentle now. Almost mournful.

“I lied.”

Kael’s eyes went wide.

“She’s part Varyn?” he rasped. “That’s not possible.”

“It is,” her mother said. “I loved a Varyn once. And together, we did what hadn’t been done in centuries—we created a child of both light and shadow. A bloodline meant to end the cycle. Meant to choose a side.”

“I never got a choice,” Lyra snapped.

“Until now,” her mother said.

She took a pendant from around her neck—a silver crescent moon, blackened in the center.

She tossed it at Lyra’s feet.

“Inside is the truth. The day you were born. The vows I made. The prophecy you were born to fulfill.”

Kael grabbed Lyra’s hand before she could reach for it.

“This could be a trick.”

“She’s not lying,” Lyra said, her voice trembling. “I feel it.”

She bent and picked it up.

The moment her skin touched the metal, a pulse of energy surged through her.

Memories not her own unfolded in her mind—visions of her mother, radiant and strong, standing before a broken Gate with a Varyn warrior by her side. A child wrapped in mooncloth. A vow whispered over her cradle.

Let her be more than either of us. Let her choose who to become.

Tears slipped down Lyra’s cheeks.

“She gave me away,” she whispered. “Because she knew… the world would never let me live.”

Kael pulled her close. “Then we’ll fight the world.”

Her mother stepped back, gaze lingering on the pendant. “Your time is coming, Lyra. The Gate won’t sleep much longer. When it wakes… you must decide. Hollowed or Guardian. Light or shadow.”

“I’m not either,” Lyra said fiercely.

“You’re both,” her mother corrected. “And that’s what terrifies them.”

She turned and began to fade into the trees.

“Wait!” Lyra called out.

But the woman was already gone.

⸻

Kael

They stood in the silence that followed, the pendant heavy in Lyra’s palm. The blood-bond still hummed between them, but now, something was different. Deeper. Like a thread had tied itself between their fates long before either of them was born.

“She lied to protect you,” Kael murmured.

Lyra didn’t look up. “She lied, Kael. My whole life. And now I’m supposed to choose?”

“We’ll figure it out.”

“What if I don’t want either side?”

Kael paused.

“What if I become something worse?”

He moved in front of her, his hand gently lifting her chin. “Then I’ll still be at your side.”

Her eyes searched his, and for a moment, something soft sparked between them. The bond pulsed—not with pain, but with longing. With heat.

With love neither of them dared speak aloud.

But the moment shattered with the sound of a branch snapping in the distance.

They both turned.

A howl tore through the air—low, guttural, wrong.

“That’s not one of ours,” Kael muttered.

“No,” Lyra said. “That’s Hollowed. And they’re not alone.”

Kael’s hand went to his blade.

“I’ll hold them off,” he said. “You run.”

“I’m not leaving you.”

“This isn’t a choice, Lyra.”

“Neither was bonding with me. But you did that anyway.”

Another howl. Closer this time.

Kael swore under his breath.

“Then we stand together.”

She nodded.

The shadows erupted around them.

And the fight began.

Part Two

Kael

The forest roared alive with motion.

Shadows streaked through the trees—fast, cruel, too silent to be natural. The Hollowed Ones didn’t charge like ordinary wolves. They stalked like assassins. Their shapes were only half-wolf, half-corruption. Fangs like bone shards. Limbs too long. Eyes that glowed with the color of spoiled blood.

Kael stood in front of Lyra, blade unsheathed, every muscle coiled.

Three of them broke the treeline.

He didn’t wait.

With a growl that ripped from deep in his chest, Kael lunged forward, the blade slicing through the first creature’s throat in a clean arc. It gurgled and dropped. But two more leaped behind him.

“Lyra, run!”

But she didn’t run. He heard the thrum of her pulse behind him—steady, strong, too calm for a girl who had just learned her entire bloodline was built on lies.

Another wolf lunged at her.

Kael spun—but Lyra raised her hand before he could get to her. Her fingers spread, and a burst of violet energy exploded from her palm. The wolf hit an invisible wall and shattered mid-air, bones twisting as if the magic itself refused to let it exist.

Kael froze.

“Lyra—what the hell was that?”

She didn’t answer. Her eyes were glowing—not gold, not silver. A burning violet. Unnatural. Unmistakable.

He’d seen it only once before—etched into a scroll hidden deep in the Guardian temple archives.

The Blood of Two Moons.

“Behind you!” she shouted.

Kael turned just as another Hollowed beast lunged from the brush. He ducked under it, drove his blade through its ribs, and twisted hard. It yelped and fell, writhing in pain.

“They’re trying to pull you in!” Kael shouted over the chaos. “Don’t let them bind you again!”

“They won’t,” she growled.

But Kael saw the tremor in her fingers. The strain.

The pendant her mother had given her—now tucked into her collar—pulsed faintly. Feeding something inside her. Or waking it.

A screech echoed through the trees, and the rest of the pack emerged—six, maybe more. They circled in, cutting off retreat. One of them shifted, his form collapsing into that of a man. Pale. Covered in runes carved into his own flesh. His mouth split in a jagged smile.

“She lives,” he hissed. “The Hollowed Heiress. The Gate’s Blood.”

Lyra’s chin lifted.

“I’m not yours anymore.”

“You were never not ours,” he said, stepping closer. “You bleed our language. You dream our secrets. The Gate opened in your sleep, didn’t it?”

She said nothing.

He chuckled. “We only want what’s ours. Come willingly, and the boy lives.”

Kael bristled.

“She’s not going anywhere.”

The man sneered. “You think your sword can stop prophecy?”

“I think it can stop your heart.”

He lunged.

Kael met him mid-air, metal against bone, fury against ancient magic. Their clash sent sparks and shards of power ripping through the clearing. Another Hollowed came from the side—Kael ducked, twisted, drove the hilt into the wolf’s skull, then spun again—

Too slow.

The Hollowed leader threw him with a wave of his hand. Kael slammed into a tree. His shoulder snapped. Pain flared white.

“Kael!” Lyra screamed.

He tried to rise—couldn’t.

The leader turned to her.

“You don’t need him. He’ll only break when you become what you’re meant to be.”

“I already broke once,” Lyra said, stepping forward. Her hair danced in a wind that didn’t touch the leaves. “Now I build something new.”

The pendant around her neck glowed blindingly.

The Hollowed Ones backed away—but not far.

Lyra dropped to her knees.

Kael tried to shout—No!—but his lungs refused to fill.

Lyra’s hands hit the ground.

The earth groaned.

Magic spilled from her like a storm. It wasn’t just violet anymore. It was black—ancient, starless black, threaded with silver veins, pulsing with the heartbeat of something long buried.

The forest screamed.

The Hollowed Ones turned to run—but it was too late.

The ground split.

A rune circle opened beneath her—massive, ancient, bleeding light into the sky. Glyphs that hadn’t been spoken in centuries rose like steam.

And Lyra changed.

Her eyes went fully white.

Her veins glowed.

And her voice, when it came, wasn’t hers.

It was every voice.

“I am the balance and the undoing. I am the daughter of breach and bone. I am the blood they buried. And I remember.”

The rune circle exploded outward.

Three Hollowed Ones disintegrated instantly—reduced to ash and smoke.

The others dropped to the ground, writhing, screaming, clutching their heads.

Even Kael felt it.

The magic was ancient. It wasn’t just Hollowed or Guardian. It was something older.

Primordial.

Lyra stood now, arms outstretched, her body outlined in ghostlight.

“Leave,” she said, her voice her own again—but deeper, calmer. “Or I’ll erase you.”

The Hollowed leader staggered to his feet.

“This power… it will consume you.”

“I’ll decide what consumes me.”

He vanished into the woods, the others crawling after him.

Silence fell again.

Only the sound of Lyra’s breathing.

She swayed.

Kael stumbled forward, catching her before she collapsed.

Her body trembled in his arms.

“You’re bleeding,” she whispered.

He looked down. He hadn’t noticed the gash in his side. “It’s nothing. You—you were incredible.”

“No,” she whispered, eyes unfocused. “I was something else.”

He held her tighter.

“You came back,” she said.

“I’ll always come back.”

She gripped his collar, her eyes suddenly filling with tears. “I don’t want to lose myself, Kael.”

“You won’t.”

“But what if she was right?” Lyra looked up at him. “What if this thing inside me isn’t meant to be tamed?”

Kael brushed a strand of hair from her face. “Then I’ll learn to love the wild parts too.”

For a long moment, neither of them moved. The world was still. Only the trees, whispering.

Then, Kael’s gaze dropped to her hand.

It was glowing again.

But this time… it wasn’t violet.

It was red.

Blood magic.

“No,” he breathed. “That’s not possible.”

Lyra blinked, saw it too—and screamed.

The last of her control snapped.

The pendant cracked in half.

And the Gate pulsed—awake.