เข้าสู่ระบบLyra rode through the palace gates with her heart still racing from the meeting with Seraphine. The weight of the queen’s words pressed on her like a stone. The prophecy. The one who stands between worlds. She had barely spoken on the ride back, her mind turning over every look, every pause, every careful word exchanged in that guarded hall. The alliance was forming, but at what cost? Seraphine’s demand that Rowan stay behind still burned inside her. She needed to see him. She needed to feel his arms around her and know he was still fighting.The courtyard was quieter than usual. Servants moved quickly, heads down, avoiding her eyes. The war had changed everything. Fear hung in the air like smoke. She dismounted quickly and handed the reins to a waiting stable boy, then hurried toward their chambers. Her boots echoed on the stone floors. Every step felt heavier. She had been gone only a few hours, but it felt like days.When she pushed open the door to their private rooms, the silence
Lyra stepped into the guarded hall with her heart hammering against her ribs. The air felt thick, heavy with suspicion and old power. Torches burned along the walls, casting long, flickering shadows that danced across the faces of the Silver Court nobles. They watched her like hawks, their eyes sharp and untrusting. Every step she took echoed in the silence. She could feel their judgment pressing down on her, heavy as stone.Rowan had wanted to come with her. He had argued until his voice grew hoarse, but in the end the weakness in his body had won. He stayed behind at the palace, the shadow mark draining him more each day. The memory of his tired eyes as she left him made her chest ache. She was doing this for him. For all of them. But walking into this hall alone felt like stepping into a cage.Seraphine waited at the far end of the long table. The Silver Queen sat straight and regal, her silver hair braided with threads of moonlight. Her eyes, cold and calculating, fixed on Lyra th
Lyra 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







