INICIAR SESIÓNLyra watched Rowan as he slowly lowered himself into the chair at the head of the war table. His movements were careful, like every breath hurt. The shadow mark was hidden beneath his tunic, but she knew it was there, spreading, eating away at him from the inside. She wanted to tell him to go back to bed. To rest. But she knew he would refuse. He always did when it came to protecting their people.The large chamber was filled with maps, half-burned reports, and the heavy scent of candle wax and tension. Rebel leaders, clan elders, and a few wary representatives from distant packs sat around the long wooden table. Their faces were drawn with exhaustion and fear. The war had taken its toll on everyone, but none more visibly than the man beside her.Rowan reached under the table and found her hand. His fingers were cold, but he squeezed hers gently, trying to reassure her. She squeezed back harder, her heart aching. She could feel how much strength it took for him just to sit here. Yet h
Lyra stood on the ridge overlooking the battlefield, the cold wind whipping her cloak around her legs. Smoke still rose from the villages that had fallen the day before. Rowan stood beside her, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. She could see the effort it took for him to stay upright. The shadow mark had spread further across his chest, and every breath seemed to cost him. Yet he was here, refusing to stay behind in the palace while their people fought and died. "I should be down there with them," he said quietly, his voice rough. His fingers brushed hers, a small touch that carried everything they could not say out loud. Fear. Love. The quiet terror that one of these days he might not be able to stand beside her at all. "You are exactly where you need to be," Lyra replied. She turned to him, searching his face. The exhaustion in his eyes broke her heart every time. "We fight smarter now. Not harder. You taught me that." He gave her a small, tired smile that did not reac
Lyra paced the small hidden chamber beneath the palace, her footsteps echoing softly against the stone. The healer’s words from the night before still rang in her ears. Only the Shadow King can remove the mark now. She had not slept. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw Rowan’s pale face, the black veins spreading across his skin, and the fear in his eyes that he tried so hard to hide from her. The weight of it pressed on her chest until she could barely breathe.She stopped near the small table where maps and old scrolls lay scattered. Her fingers brushed over one of the symbols from the sanctuary. Light and shadow. That was what she carried inside her. That was what the Shadow King wanted. But she would not give him Rowan. She would not give him anything.The door opened quietly. Rowan stepped in first, moving slower than usual. He tried to hide the pain, but she saw the way he favored his left side and how his hand pressed lightly against his chest. Kael and Vera followed close
Lyra sat on the edge of the bed, holding Rowan’s hand as if letting go would make him slip away forever. The room was quiet except for his uneven breathing and the occasional crackle from the hearth. His skin was pale, almost gray under the flickering light, and the shadow mark had spread further across his chest and up his neck. It looked like living darkness crawling beneath his skin. Every few minutes his body would twitch, and a soft groan would escape his lips. She had not slept. She could not. Not while he lay there fighting a battle inside his own body.She brushed her fingers gently across his forehead. It was damp with sweat. "I am here," she whispered, even though he was only half awake. "I am right here with you."Rowan’s eyes fluttered open. They were cloudy with pain, but when they found hers, something soft and warm flickered in them. "You should be resting," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. He tried to squeeze her hand but his fingers barely moved. "You cannot
Lyra knelt beside Rowan in the makeshift command tent, her hands pressed gently against his chest. The fabric of his shirt was damp with sweat, and beneath it she could feel the shadow mark pulsing like a second, darker heart. The border camp around them was alive with noise and fear. Soldiers shouted orders, horses neighed in panic, and the distant sounds of fighting still carried on the wind. But inside the tent, everything felt smaller. Just the two of them and the heavy weight of what was coming."You need to rest," she whispered, her voice cracking. She brushed her fingers across his forehead, pushing back damp strands of hair. His skin was too hot in some places and far too cold in others. "You pushed yourself too hard today. Let me handle the next watch."Rowan caught her wrist, his grip weak but determined. His gray eyes met hers, filled with a love so deep it hurt to look at. "I am not leaving you to face this alone. Not while I can still stand." He tried to sit up straighter
Lyra gripped the reins so tightly her fingers ached. The eastern border camp was chaotic. Soldiers shouted orders, horses stamped nervously, and the air carried the sharp smell of fear and smoke. She had ridden out at first light with Rowan despite his protests, unable to stay behind while more villages burned. Now she wished she had listened to him.Rowan rode beside her, his face pale and drawn. The shadow mark had worsened overnight. She could see the pain in every small movement he made, though he tried to hide it behind a mask of strength. Their eyes met for a moment. He held love and quiet desperation. Hers held the weight of everything she might have to sacrifice.A scout came galloping toward them, his horse lathered in sweat. "Your Majesties! The tremors are getting worse. The ground is splitting open near the old ridge!"Before anyone could respond, the earth heaved violently beneath them. Lyra’s horse reared, nearly throwing her. She held on tight as the ground shook again,







