The Council ordered prayers at dawn.
By the time the first bell tolled, the Citadel courtyard swarmed with white-robed clergy, their chants rising like smoke into the cold air. I stood among them, lips moving, heart silent. The stone beneath my bare feet hummed faintly — too faint for anyone else to feel.
Something had changed in me overnight.
The whisper in my head — the one I'd tried to pray away — had become a steady rhythm, pulsing in time with my heartbeat. Every word of devotion I spoke felt false, every sacred symbol too bright.
"Lyra," Eris murmured beside me. "Are you well?"
I nodded, though the air around me vibrated with unseen pressure. My veins felt molten, my vision sharpened, and the light spilling from the altar seemed almost alive — twisting, coiling.
Then, in the far corner of the courtyard, a group of guards dragged a prisoner through the crowd.
He was human, trembling, accused of heresy. The High Seraph's voice carried over the murmurs.
"His tongue spoke corruption," Malachor declared. "Let the Light cleanse his words."
They forced him to his knees. A priest raised the holy torch — gold fire roaring, pure and merciless.
The man's screams tore through the morning air.
Something in me snapped.
The torchlight flared, but the flames bent — not upward, but sideways, away from him. Gasps rippled through the courtyard as the fire froze midair, suspended like molten glass.
The guards stumbled back. The High Seraph's eyes locked on me.
"Seer Veyne," he said quietly. "What have you done?"
"I—nothing." My breath came shallow, my hands trembling. "I didn't—"
But the flame turned toward me, spiraling like a serpent. I raised my hand on instinct, and light erupted from my palm — raw, blinding, wrong.
It wasn't gold like the Seraph's. It was white edged with shadow.
The suspended torch shattered. Energy crackled through the marble floor, carving black veins across the stone. The smell of ozone filled the air.
For a heartbeat, silence. Then chaos.
"Blasphemy!" a priest screamed. "She's been touched!"
Guards surged forward, but I staggered back, every nerve screaming. The power still hummed inside me, wild and unbound. I saw the man — the heretic — crawl away, untouched by flame. And I knew, somehow, I had spared him.
Then the vision hit.
The courtyard dissolved into darkness — marble melting into shadow. Figures rose around me, winged and faceless, chanting in a forgotten tongue. At the center stood Kael, his eyes burning silver.
"Now you see," he whispered, voice echoing through the void. "The Light fears what it cannot own."
I gasped, and the vision shattered.
When I came to, I was on my knees, surrounded by guards. The High Seraph towered above me, robes billowing in the broken light.
"Take her," he said softly. "The taint spreads fast."
Eris tried to speak, but Malachor's glare silenced her. The guards seized my arms. I wanted to fight — to scream, to explain — but fear anchored me. Every eye in the courtyard burned with disgust or awe.
As they dragged me through the hall, I caught one last glimpse of the sky. The clouds had shifted — not gray, but streaked with faint gold and shadow. Like bruised light.
They locked me in the chapel again.
Kael was waiting. The runes glowed faintly beneath his feet, their light flickering as I stumbled in.
"What did you do?" he asked.
"Nothing," I said, voice shaking. "I don't know."
He studied me for a long moment, then tilted his head. "You do."
"I don't."
"You bent Light," he said quietly. "That's not mortal power."
"I shouldn't have any power."
He stepped closer, the air between us charged. "And yet, you do. Tell me, Lyra — did it frighten you? Or did it feel good?"
The question struck deeper than it should have.
"I saved a man from burning," I said, defensive.
"You defied Heaven's law," he countered. "That's what burns brighter."
His eyes searched mine, calm but relentless. "You're awakening."
"Awakening to what?"
"The part of you they tried to bury."
I shook my head. "Stop."
"You think the chains are only mine?" His voice sharpened. "Look at yourself, Lyra. The way they look at you now. Do you think they'll let you stay?"
His words hit like truth wrapped in poison.
The door slammed open. Two guards entered, weapons drawn.
"The Council summons the fallen," one said. "By order of the Seraph."
Kael smiled faintly. "Finally."
They bound him in light again — iron glowing gold as it wrapped around his wrists. He didn't resist. But before they led him out, his gaze met mine, and for a heartbeat, something ancient passed between us — not mercy, not pity. Recognition.
As the door closed behind him, I pressed a shaking hand against the stone wall. The runes still pulsed faintly, their glow matching the rhythm of my heartbeat.
Later that night, Eris crept into my cell. Her eyes were red, her hands trembling.
"They say you conjured shadowfire," she whispered. "Lyra, what did you do?"
"I don't know."
"They're afraid," she said. "The Seraph wants to test your blood. He believes Kael infected you."
I went cold. "Infected me?"
"They'll take you to the Sanctum at dawn. If they find anything…" She hesitated. "He'll order purification."
Purification. A pretty word for execution.
I sat in silence for a long time. Then I said, "Can you help me leave?"
Eris looked horrified. "You'd run?"
"If I stay, I die."
Her lips trembled. "They'll call you fallen."
"Then maybe I am."
That night, the Citadel slept under silver rain. The tower bells were silent. I rose from my cot, the whisper in my blood louder than ever. The sigils on the wall flickered, dimming with each step I took.
When I reached the window, lightning split the sky — a jagged white scar. And there, across the courtyard, I saw Kael being led toward the inner sanctum, his chains glowing faintly in the storm.
The guards paused at the gate, shouting orders. One torch flickered out — snuffed by wind, or by something unseen. The moment the light died, the runes on my wall went dark too.
The whisper inside me surged.
Run.
I didn't think. I moved.
The door burst open under my hand, light cracking along the hinges. The power answered like it had been waiting. As the alarm bells began to toll, I stepped into the storm.
And the Light itself bent out of my way.