Elira learned to lie.
Not with words — but with stillness.
She learned how to keep her breathing even when the stars whispered her name. How to hide the faint silver glow beneath her skin when the moon rose too high. How to smile at guards while listening to the fortress hum secrets meant only for her.
Kael noticed anyway.
He always did.
"You're quieter," he said one night, watching her from across the chamber. "That usually means trouble."
Elira forced a small smile. "Maybe I'm just tired."
His gaze lingered — sharp, suspicious — but he let it pass.
That was her first betrayal.
🌌 The Secret Training.
It began the next night.
She dreamed of standing on glass — a vast, endless plane reflecting constellations she somehow recognized as family. The air shimmered. Light bent inward.
The envoy stepped from the stars.
This time, there was no audience. No threat. No demand.
> You are burning yourself out, he said calmly.
You will not survive another awakening untrained.
"I won't leave," Elira said at once.
> I know.
That is why I am here.
The glass beneath her feet rippled, forming sigils that crawled up her legs like living fire. Pain flared — sharp, controlled, purposeful.
She gasped.
> You may remain, the envoy continued, voice almost gentle.
But you will learn what you are.
And you will learn restraint — before you destroy him.
Images slammed into her:
— Stars bound into flesh
— Celestials falling screaming
— A wolf drowning in shadow because the star loved too fiercely
Elira cried out.
"I'll do it," she said hoarsely. "Teach me."
The envoy studied her.
> You choose limitation over dominion.
"Yes."
> Then you are already dangerous.
She woke shaking — power coiled tighter inside her than ever before.
And Kael slept beside her, unaware that heaven now claimed a piece of her nights.
--
The council struck at dawn.
No warnings. No debates.
Steel rang through Dravenfall as ancient suppression wards flared to life — wards designed to neutralize monsters, warlords… and gods.
Kael felt it instantly.
The serpent screamed.
He barely had time to grab his sword before soldiers poured into the chamber, weapons glowing with runic fire.
"Elira!" he roared.
She was already on her feet.
Chains of light snapped around her wrists — celestial anchors disguised as council magic. They burned cold, draining her strength without extinguishing it.
Kael lunged.
The wards slammed him into the wall like a god's fist.
"You will stand down," the elder shouted. "Or watch her be taken."
Elira's heart lurched.
"Kael, don't—!"
Shadow exploded.
The serpent tore partially free — scales ripping through flesh, eyes blazing gold and black. The room shattered as Kael roared, half man, half nightmare.
Soldiers screamed.
Walls cracked.
The council had miscalculated.
Elira felt it — the moment control tipped too far.
She closed her eyes.
And reached inward.
The training answered.
Silver sigils flared beneath her skin — precise, controlled, commanding. The chains dissolved. The ward-net flickered.
"Elira?" Kael rasped, struggling — fighting himself more than the magic.
She stepped into the chaos.
"Enough," she said.
The word carried weight.
The serpent froze.
Kael collapsed to one knee, gasping, control snapping back into place like a slammed door.
Elira caught him before he fell.
The chamber was silent except for shattered stone and terrified breathing.
She looked up at the council — eyes glowing faintly, steadily.
"You will never try to take him from me again," she said.
The elder trembled. "You're choosing damnation."
Elira tightened her grip on Kael.
"I already did."
Outside, the fortress howled — not in fear.
In allegiance.