Draven's POV
Arrows rain down from the Verdana wall like deadly rain.
I throw myself over Lyrae, shielding her body with mine. An arrow punches through my shoulder. Another grazes my leg. Pain explodes through me, but I don't let go.
"CEASE FIRE!" someone shouts from the wall. "That's Commander Jaxon's daughter!"
The arrows stop. But the damage is done.
The pack leader wolf beneath us stumbles, three arrows buried in its flank. It's trying to keep running, trying to protect Lyrae, but it's dying.
"No!" Lyrae screams. She slides off the wolf's back, her hands already glowing that impossible green light. "Don't you die. Don't you dare die!"
She presses her hands against the wolf's wounds. The arrows push themselves out. The wounds close.
But this time, it's costing her. I can see her hands shaking, see the way her whole body trembles with effort. She's already weak from healing me, from days without food or water, from using powers she doesn't understand.
"Lyrae, stop," I say, grabbing her wrist. "You're killing yourself."
"I won't let them die because of me!"
She heals the pack leader, then moves to the next wounded wolf. Then the next. Green light pours from her hands like a river, and with each healing, she gets weaker.
By the time she's finished, she can barely stand.
The pack leader nuzzles her hand gently, then looks at me. In its glowing red eyes, I see something I never thought I'd see from an ash-wolf: gratitude. And a warning.
Protect her.
The wolves melt back into the volcanic wasteland, disappearing like smoke. They know they can't stay—not with Verdana archers on the wall.
Which leaves me and Lyrae alone. In the open. Between two armies.
The Ashborn hunting party crests the ridge behind us. At least twenty warriors, led by Zephyr. His scarred face splits into a vicious grin when he sees us trapped.
"Nowhere left to run, traitor!" he calls out.
On the wall ahead, Verdana soldiers are shouting. I see a man pushing through the crowd—older, with commander's marks on his armor. His face is a mixture of relief and fury.
"LYRAE!" he roars. "Get away from that Ashborn!"
Lyrae sways on her feet. I catch her before she falls.
"Can you walk?" I ask quietly.
"Don't have much choice, do I?"
Despite everything, I almost smile. Even half-dead, she's still fighting.
"Listen to me," I say urgently. "When I tell you to run, you run for that wall. Your people will protect you."
"What about you?"
"I'll hold off Zephyr long enough for you to—"
"I'm not leaving you to die!" Her green eyes blaze with anger. "You've saved my life three times. I won't abandon you now."
"You don't understand. If the Ashborn catch me, I'm dead. If the Verdana catch me, I'm dead. There's no way out for me."
"Then we'll find a third option."
"There IS no third—"
Zephyr's war horn sounds. The Ashborn charge.
At the same moment, the gates in the Verdana wall start to open. Soldiers pour out, weapons raised.
We're about to be caught in the middle of a battle. And both sides want us.
"Last chance to run," I tell Lyrae.
She grabs my hand instead. "Together or not at all."
Stupid. She's being so stupid. I should push her away, should force her to save herself.
But her hand in mine feels like an anchor. Like the first real connection I've had in eight years.
So I hold on.
The armies close in from both sides. Fifty feet. Forty. Thirty.
Lyrae's hand starts glowing again—not green this time, not red. Gold. That explosive power from the cave.
"No," I say sharply. "You're too weak. That power will kill you."
"Better than letting them kill you."
"Lyrae—"
"I said TOGETHER!"
The golden light erupts from her entire body, spreading outward in a wave. But this time it's different. This time, it doesn't explode.
It creates a barrier.
A dome of golden light surrounds us, stretching twenty feet in every direction. The Ashborn warriors hit it and bounce off like they've struck a wall. The Verdana soldiers stop short, staring in shock.
Inside the dome, it's completely silent. Peaceful.
Outside, chaos.
"What did you do?" I breathe.
"I don't know," Lyrae gasps. She's glowing from the inside now, her eyes pure gold. "I just... I didn't want anyone else to die. Not you. Not them. Not anyone."
The barrier holds both armies back. Ashborn and Verdana alike pound against it, but it doesn't break.
Then I see him. War Chief Mordain himself, pushing through the Ashborn ranks. The man who raised me. Trained me. Turned me into a weapon.
His eyes find mine through the golden barrier, and the disappointment in them cuts deeper than any blade.
"Draven," he says, his voice somehow carrying through the barrier. "Stand down. Release the girl and come home. You can still fix this."
"He's lying," Lyrae whispers. "He'll kill you for helping me."
She's right. I know she's right. But that's still the closest thing to a father I've ever had.
"You don't belong with them," Mordain continues. "You're Ashborn. You're my son. Come home."
For eight years, those words would have meant everything to me.
Now they feel like chains.
I look at Lyrae—this impossible girl with powers that shouldn't exist, who keeps saving my life even though I'm her enemy, who refuses to give up even when any sane person would run.
"I can't," I tell Mordain. "Not anymore."
His face hardens. "Then you're no son of mine."
He raises his hand, and every Ashborn warrior draws their weapon.
On the other side, the Verdana commander—Lyrae's father—steps forward.
"Lyrae!" he shouts. "Whatever that creature has done to you, whatever he's told you, it's lies! Lower the barrier and come home!"
"Creature?" Lyrae's voice shakes with anger. "He's not a creature! He saved my life!"
"He's ASHBORN! He probably caused the ambush that—"
"He saved me!" Lyrae screams. Tears stream down her face. "When I was dying, when the ash-wolves attacked, when his own people tried to kill me—he saved me! Over and over! And you want me to just leave him to die?"
"He's the enemy!"
"SO WAS I!" Lyrae's voice breaks. "To him, I was the enemy. My people killed his sister. My people destroyed his home. And he still saved me. Because he's better than this war. Better than all of you!"
Silence falls. Even through the barrier, I can see the shock on every face—Ashborn and Verdana alike.
"Lyrae," her father says quietly. "Lower the barrier. Please. Let's talk about this."
"No." Her voice is steady now, despite the tears. "Not until you promise he lives. Both of you. Ashborn and Verdana. Promise me he walks away alive, or I'll hold this barrier until I die."
"You don't understand what you're asking," her father says. "The Ashborn won't agree to—"
"I'll agree."
Everyone turns. A woman pushes through the Verdana ranks. She's tall and fierce, with dark hair and eyes that mirror Lyrae's.
"Mom?" Lyrae gasps.
Her mother—Lady Seraphine—stares at her daughter through the golden light. "Lower the barrier, Lyrae. I give you my word. The Ashborn warrior lives."
"Your word means nothing, Verdana," Mordain spits. "The traitor dies."
Seraphine's eyes flash. "Then we have a problem. Because that's my daughter in there. And if you want to kill the warrior protecting her, you'll have to go through me first. Through all of us."
The Verdana soldiers move forward, forming a line between the Ashborn and the barrier.
Mordain's face twists with rage. "You would start a war over one traitor?"
"I would start a war for my daughter," Seraphine says coldly. "Wouldn't you?"
The question hangs in the air. Mordain's eyes flick to me, and for just a second, I see something that might be pain.
Then it's gone, replaced by cold fury.
"This isn't over," he says. He signals his warriors. "Fall back. For now."
The Ashborn retreat, but I can feel Zephyr's eyes on me. Promising death. Promising vengeance.
The barrier flickers. Lyrae's glowing eyes are fading, returning to their normal green.
"I can't... I can't hold it much longer," she gasps.
"Let it go," I tell her. "Your people will protect you."
"What about you?"
"I'll run. I'm good at that."
"Draven—"
The barrier shatters.
Lyrae collapses. I catch her before she hits the ground, and suddenly we're surrounded by Verdana soldiers. Weapons point at my head, my heart, every vital point.
"Let her go," one soldier orders.
"She needs a healer," I say, not releasing her. "She's used too much power. She's—"
"I said LET HER GO."
A blade presses against my throat. Another against my ribs.
"Do it," a different soldier says. "Kill the Ashborn scum."
"No!" Seraphine's voice cuts through the crowd. "Lower your weapons. All of you. Now."
They hesitate. But they obey.
Seraphine kneels beside me, her eyes on her daughter's unconscious face. When she looks at me, I expect hatred. Instead, I see something else.
Understanding.
"You protected her," she says quietly.
"I did."
"Why?"
It's the same question everyone keeps asking. The same question I've been asking myself.
"Because she's worth protecting."
Seraphine studies my face for a long moment. Then she nods.
"Take them both inside," she orders. "The Ashborn warrior is under my protection. Anyone who touches him answers to me."
"But Commander Jaxon said—"
"I don't care what my husband said. This warrior saved our daughter's life. We owe him a debt." Her voice drops to something dangerous. "And I always pay my debts."
Soldiers lift Lyrae carefully. Others grab my arms, but they don't bind me. They just... help me walk.
As we approach the wall gates, I look back one last time at the volcanic wasteland. At the place that was my home for twenty-four years.
I'm never going back. I know that now.
Mordain has declared me a traitor. Zephyr wants me dead. The only family I've ever known has become my enemy.
And all because of a girl with impossible powers and a heart too big for this cruel world.
The gates close behind us with a boom like thunder.
I'm in Verdana territory now. Surrounded by the people who killed my sister. The people I was raised to hate.
One of them leans close and whispers: "Don't get comfortable, Ashborn. The moment Lady Seraphine's back is turned, you're dead."
I believe him.
But when I look at Lyrae's unconscious face, at the way her mother holds her hand so gently, I realize something.
I'd do it all again.
Every choice. Every betrayal. Every impossible decision.
For her, I'd do it all again.