---
Kael's breath came in ragged gasps as the vines coiled tighter around his chest. The cursed roots of the Black Willow pulsed with ancient magic, and the more he struggled, the more it fed on his Aetherion.
Across from him, Lyra Hale stood with haunting poise, her violet eyes glimmering with corrupted energy. The girl he had once loved — the girl who once whispered dreams beneath starlit skies — now wore betrayal like a second skin.
"Why?" Kael managed, teeth clenched. "Why this… again?"
Lyra approached, her boots crunching over the dead leaves. "You were never meant to survive, Kael. But fate had other plans. Now… so do I."
Her fingers brushed his cheek — cold, almost mournful — before pulling away. "Damon said you'd come. He's always been right about you."
Kael's eyes burned with fury. "Damon is a coward hiding behind lies. Just like you."
"No," she said softly. "I died that night, Kael. You just never buried me."
He was about to retort — but a flash of silver whirled through the air. Another dagger.
A second guard collapsed, gurgling on blood.
Then came the storm.
Elira Veyne descended from the trees like vengeance itself, blades in both hands, her midnight cloak flaring as she struck. Sparks erupted from her fingertips as she hurled a blinding arc of fire toward Lyra's guards. The shadows screamed and stumbled.
"Elira," Kael rasped.
"I said I'd watch your back," she said, slicing through the final vine binding him. "Now move."
Kael surged to his feet, Aetherion blazing around him in crackling arcs of blue. Together, they fought like storm and shadow — a deadly rhythm forged by pain and promise.
Lyra stepped back, face unreadable. "So it's true," she said. "You've fallen for her."
Kael didn't answer.
But his silence was enough.
And Lyra's smile faltered.
---
The Escape
They broke through the circle of soldiers, Elira dragging Kael into the deeper forest. Wards ignited behind them, sealing their tracks.
For hours, they ran. Until the forest gave way to cliffs and mist, and the moon had risen high.
Kael collapsed against a rock, sweat and blood staining his clothes. Elira knelt beside him, inspecting the wound on his shoulder where a curse-root had grazed his skin.
"You're lucky it didn't wrap around your heart," she muttered, dabbing it with salves from her satchel.
"You always bring healing herbs to a fight?" he asked through a wince.
"I bring what I need," she replied. "You tend to need saving."
He managed a dry chuckle.
But then he turned serious. "She's not the same, Elira. Lyra… she had Damon's crest. And her power—it's different now. Twisted."
"She's not the only one who's changed," Elira said quietly, tying off the bandage. "You're stronger than when I found you. But you're also slipping."
Kael looked at her, surprised.
"You're walking a blade," she continued. "Vengeance cuts both ways, Kael. One day, it won't just be the enemy who bleeds."
---
A Vision in the Flame
That night, as Kael slept under the stars, Aetherion surged in his dreams.
He saw fire. Endless fire.
A golden crown burning. A throne split in two. Lyra kneeling in chains. Damon bleeding on black stone. Elira—eyes glowing like stars—reaching for him, but surrounded by ash.
And Lucien.
Lucien Drax standing at the edge of a shattered realm, his hands wrapped around a boy's throat — a boy that looked exactly like Kael.
"You were born to open the gate," Lucien whispered in the dream. "You are the last child of flame and star."
Kael woke with a gasp, heart hammering.
The stars above him flickered — and for a moment, they seemed to form the shape of a crown.
---
Morning — A Message from the Dead
Elira found him at dawn, standing at the edge of a cliff.
"There's something else," she said, holding out a scroll marked with the seal of the Nexari. "Someone left this outside our safehouse."
Kael opened it, hands trembling.
> "To the Heir of Ash and Memory—
Lucien is not what he seems. Nor is your birthright. Come to the Shattered Spire on the night of the Blood Eclipse. Bring the girl. Bring the key. Or the realms will fall."
—C.
"'C'?" Kael asked.
"Cyris," Elira whispered, paling. "My sister is… dead."
Kael's grip tightened.
"Maybe not anymore," he said.
---
Meanwhile… In Elyndor
Lucien Drax stood before a pool of starlight, eyes fixed on a shard of Kael's blood encased in crystal.Damon entered the chamber, his armor stained with forest dust.
"We missed him," Damon growled. "She interfered."
Lucien didn't turn. "She always was predictable."
"She's growing close to him," Damon added. "Too close."
Lucien smiled — slow and cold.
"Let her. Love is the sweetest blade. It always cuts deepest… when it's turned."
And the crystal in his hand cracked with a sound like thunder.
---
Back in their hideout, Kael finally asks Elira the question that had haunted him since the crypt:
> "What does it mean — child of flame and star?"
Elira hesitates.
Then says quietly:
> "It means you're not just mortal, Kael.
It means your mother… wasn't from this realm."
And somewhere in the skies above Mortalis, the moon begins to bleed.
---