Darkness.
Cold.
Then—a heartbeat.
Pain.
Lysandra gasped as the world slammed back into focus. She collapsed onto wet stone, coughing blood, the searing agony of Kael's blade still pulsing through her side. But it wasn't just hers now. It wasn't just pain—it was power. Twisted, ancient, furious.
A scream caught in her throat, the goddess inside her thrashing against the prison of her mortal flesh.
"Not yet. "
The whisper echoed in her skull like a storm. Selene—the forgotten goddess—burned inside her veins, demanding retribution. Demanding blood.
But Lysandra's body was broken. Her vision swam. She blinked, trying to make sense of where she was.
A chamber of obsidian rock. Carvings lined the walls—old runes, glowing faintly blue. The air smelled like smoke and starlight.
She had been pulled away at the last second. By something. Or someone.
A flicker of movement.
"Easy," a low voice said. "You're not dead. Yet."
Lysandra turned her head slowly, groaning.
A man emerged from the shadows—tall, pale-skinned, cloaked in midnight cloth that shimmered with enchantment. His eyes were bright silver, like twin moons.
"You're real," she rasped.
Eiran.
He knelt beside her, placing a vial to her lips. "Drink."
She did, grimacing at the metallic tang. Instantly, warmth spread through her chest. The bleeding slowed. Her vision sharpened.
"You should've stayed in hiding," he said quietly.
Lysandra growled. "I'm done hiding."
He looked at her then—really looked. As if weighing the fire inside her.
"No," he said, lips twitching into a grim smile. "You're just getting started."
---
They moved quickly.
Eiran led her through winding tunnels carved beneath the capital's ruins. He spoke in clipped bursts as they ran.
"Kael carries the Blade of Silence now. One strike can sever a god's tether from her vessel. If he'd struck your heart—Selene would've never returned."
Lysandra's breath caught. "He knew."
"He did," Eiran confirmed. "And now Serena does too."
Her stomach twisted at the name.
Serena. Her twin. Her executioner. And now, the Empire's gilded saint.
"She took everything from me," Lysandra whispered. "And now she dares to call me worse?"
Eiran stopped before a sealed door. Ancient sigils bloomed beneath his hand. He pushed it open.
Inside was a war room—stone tables, scattered maps, burning glyphs on the walls.
And a man.
He turned as they entered.
Coal-dark skin. Eyes glowing faint red. A jagged scar down his cheek.
"Finally," he said, gaze locking onto Lysandra. "You look like hell."
"Thanks," she muttered, steadying herself.
Eiran gestured. "This is Malric. Rebel general. Loyal to the old crown."
Malric snorted. "Loyal to vengeance."
He stepped forward and offered a blade.
Lysandra took it.
The hilt hummed in her hand.
Forged of moonsteel. Marked with Selene's sigil. A gift from the goddess. A promise.
"You'll need more than fire and fury," Malric said. "We're mounting an assault in five nights. The Dead Hills. Our spies say Serena's keeping something—someone—there."
Eiran added, "A tether. A divine anchor. If we destroy it, the gods can no longer sever Selene from you."
Lysandra's jaw clenched. "Then we make them bleed."
---
Night fell hard.
Lysandra stood alone on the rooftop of their hideout. Wind tangled her hair. Her wounds ached. But inside, Selene simmered.
Not yet ready.
But close.
She looked at the stars. A sky she had once ruled under.
Her voice was quiet. "I died with my name on their tongues. Now, they will choke on it."
Behind her, Eiran appeared.
"They fear you."
"They should."
A pause. Then:
"Will you kill him?"
Lysandra's hand curled into a fist. "Kael?"
Eiran nodded.
She didn't answer right away. Memories clawed their way up her throat—his laugh, his kiss, the burn of his betrayal.
"No," she said finally. "I'll do worse."
---
The Dead Hills loomed before them—black earth scorched by ancient war. Fog clung to the ground. Screams rode the wind.
Malric's rebels were shadows, slipping between rocks, blades drawn.
At the front, Lysandra stood like a storm made flesh. Her cloak fluttered. Her eyes glowed silver.
The air trembled around her.
"Today," she said, voice echoing with divine weight, "we unbury what they tried to forget."
They moved.
The outer gate fell first—silent arrows, quick blades.
Then came the inner sanctum.
Lit with divine flame. Guarded by priestesses.
Serena's voice echoed from above. "I warned you, sister."
Lysandra raised her hand.
Violet fire erupted.
The battle ignited.
She danced between enemies, blade and flame in perfect rhythm. Selene roared through her limbs.
A priestess lunged.
Lysandra turned—and froze.
It was Ariel.
One of the few who had once called her friend.
The priestess hesitated.
Lysandra's blade hovered inches from her throat.
Ariel whispered, "You're not her."
"I am," Lysandra said. "And I remember."
She turned the blade.
Struck the sigil glowing at Ariel's feet.
A trap detonated—cracking the stone. Destroying the tether hidden beneath.
The goddess inside Lysandra screamed in triumph.
Unbound.
Her power exploded—shattering the walls.
Serena shrieked as the sanctum collapsed.
But Kael was waiting.
He stepped through smoke, the Blade of Silence in hand.
Lysandra faced him, breathing hard.
"Again," he said. "You run."
"No," she said. "I rise."
Their blades met.
Steel sparked. Flame roared. Magic cracked the ground.
"You never understood," Kael growled. "This was bigger than you."
Lysandra screamed, "Then I'll make it personal!"
She drove him back—step by brutal step—until her blade pierced his shoulder.
He staggered.
She raised her hand, magic glowing.
And he whispered:
"You're too late."
The ground beneath them opened.
A second tether. Hidden.
And bound to her heart.
The backlash struck like lightning.
Lysandra screamed as divine energy tore through her chest. She crumpled.
Kael vanished into the smoke.
And from the shadows, Serena stepped forward, lips curled.
"You broke the seal," she said. "And now—the forgotten goddess is awake."
Lysandra gasped, vision fracturing.
Her veins glowed. Her skin cracked with silver light.
The goddess inside was no longer content to whisper.
She was breaking free.
And if she did—Lysandra's mortal shell wouldn't survive it.
Eiran ran toward her, magic flaring.
But it was too late.
Lysandra's eyes went wide.
Her scream shattered the sky.