Kiera's POV
I spin around, wings flaring instinctively.
Lord Silvercrest stands in the doorway, flanked by four guards. His smile hasn't changed, but his eyes have gone cold as winter stone.
"Take the girl to the medical wing," he orders. "Sedate her. We can't have her spouting nonsense all over the estate."
"She's not spouting nonsense," I snarl. "She said the wedding's a trap. That you're planning to steal my power—"
"The ramblings of a sick child." He waves dismissively. "Elena has always been... troubled. Hearing voices. Seeing things that aren't there. It's why we keep her confined to the east wing."
"Elena?" Davian's voice is sharp. "Father, you told me Elena died years ago."
"Did I?" Lord Silvercrest tilts his head. "Memory plays such tricks. No, Davian. Your half-sister is very much alive. Though I wish she'd learned to keep her mouth shut."
The words hit like a physical blow. Half-sister. The girl with wings is Davian's sister.
Davian's face has gone pale. "You lied to me. About my own sister."
"I protected you from unnecessary complications." Lord Silvercrest's voice hardens. "Elena's existence is classified. Her... condition makes her a liability. The Council would demand her execution if they knew an aristocrat had regrown wings."
"Because it proves your breeding program failed," I say slowly, pieces clicking together. "You spent generations removing wings from your bloodline. But the magic is fighting back. Growing them again whether you want it or not."
Lord Silvercrest's smile turns razor-sharp. "Very clever, Miss Ashwind. Yes, some aristocrats are experiencing... reversions. Small wings, barely functional. It's a genetic anomaly we're working to suppress."
"By killing anyone who shows signs of it?"
"By protecting the social order." He steps closer. "Aristocrats are superior because we evolved beyond primitive flight. If our people start regrowing wings, it undermines everything our society is built on."
"So you murder children to maintain a lie," Davian says quietly. There's something terrible in his voice. Something breaking.
"I protect our way of life. As you will, once you understand." Lord Silvercrest gestures to the guards. "Now, both of you will return to your rooms. The girl will be cared for. And we'll never speak of this incident again."
"No." I step between him and Elena's unconscious body. "I'm not going anywhere until you explain what she meant. The ritual. The Void Speaker. Why the wedding is a trap."
"You're in no position to make demands."
"Actually, I am. You need me for your ritual, remember? Windborn and Skyborn in perfect harmony. Can't do that if I'm dead." I cross my arms. "So start talking, or I'll walk out of this estate right now and let your city fall."
For the first time, Lord Silvercrest's smile falters. "You wouldn't. Your friend Sera—"
"Is already free. Our deal is done."
Silence stretches between us. The guards shift nervously. Davian watches his father with an expression I can't read.
Finally, Lord Silvercrest laughs. "Oh, I like you, Kiera. You have spine. Very well. Let's discuss this... privately." He glances at the guards. "Take Elena to medical. Davian, Kiera—my study. Now."
He turns and walks away, clearly expecting us to follow.
I kneel beside Elena, checking her pulse. Still steady. "Will she be okay?"
"Medical staff will care for her," Davian says quietly. "They won't hurt her. Not while she's useful."
"Useful how?"
"Test subject. For whatever he's really planning." His hands curl into fists. "I should have known. Should have questioned why I never met my supposed-dead sister. But I trusted him."
"We both made that mistake."
We follow Lord Silvercrest through winding corridors to a locked study. He opens it with a key from his pocket and gestures us inside.
The study is smaller than I expected. Books line every wall. A desk sits by the window overlooking the fractured sky. And on the desk, a crystal device pulses with purple void energy.
I freeze. "What is that?"
"A communication crystal. Linked to the void itself." Lord Silvercrest picks it up almost lovingly. "The Void Speaker uses these to contact his followers. To coordinate the great work."
"The great work," I repeat. "Project Descent. You're really planning to crash the city."
"Not crash. Transform." He sets the crystal down. "The sky cities were a mistake. Humanity fled to the clouds centuries ago to escape something we no longer remember. But the ground world isn't dead. It thrives. Waits for us to return."
"By killing everyone who can't escape," Davian says flatly.
"Sacrifices are necessary for evolution." Lord Silvercrest moves to the window. "The Void Speaker showed me the truth. Skyhearts are failing because they were never meant to sustain cities forever. They're dying. Within a generation, all sky cities will fall whether we plan it or not. I'm simply controlling the descent. Choosing who survives."
My stomach turns. "And the ritual? What's it really for?"
"To harvest Skyweaver power. You possess the ability to manipulate sky and void—ancient magic aristocrats bred out of themselves. During the wedding ceremony, the ritual will transfer that power to me. I'll control when and how the cities fall. I'll be a god choosing humanity's future."
"You'll be a mass murderer," I spit.
"Semantics." He turns back to us. "Here's what happens next. In three days, you marry my son. During the ceremony, the ritual activates. You die. Davian dies. I gain your combined power. The chosen families descend safely to the ground while everyone else falls into the void."
Davian steps forward. "You're insane."
"I'm practical." Lord Silvercrest's smile returns. "Oh, don't look so shocked. Did you think I'd actually let you live? You're too smart, Davian. You'd eventually figure out my plans and try to stop me. Better to eliminate you during a tragic accident at your own wedding."
"People will investigate—"
"People will mourn the hero scholar and his savage bride who died trying to save the city. I'll be the grieving father carrying on their legacy." He pulls a small device from his pocket. "This triggers a lockdown. Guards will seal all exits. You're trapped."
He presses the button.
Alarms shriek. Metal doors slam shut throughout the estate.
"Now," Lord Silvercrest says pleasantly, "you have two choices. Cooperate and die quickly during the ceremony. Or resist and die slowly in my dungeons. Either way, the ritual happens. Your power will be mine."
Davian lunges for his father.
The communication crystal on the desk explodes with purple light.
Void energy floods the room, throwing us all backward. I slam into a bookshelf, books raining down around me.
When the light clears, someone else stands in the study.
A figure shrouded in void energy, face hidden behind a mask that seems to absorb light itself.
The Void Speaker.
"Aldric," the figure says in a voice like grinding stone, "you're moving too quickly. The girl isn't ready. The ritual will fail if performed now."
Lord Silvercrest bows. "Master, I have everything under control—"
"You have nothing under control." The Void Speaker turns toward me. "Stand, child. Let me see what my old friend's daughter has become."
My blood turns to ice. Old friend. My mother's friend?
I force myself to stand, wings spread defensively.
The Void Speaker tilts his head. "Yes. You have Lyra's eyes. Her power. Her stubborn refusal to accept fate." A laugh echoes from behind the mask. "Did you really think your mother destroyed that Skyheart facility today for noble reasons? She was trying to kill you, child. Trying to prevent the ritual before you could become what you're destined to be."
"You're lying."
"Am I?" The figure gestures. Void energy coalesces into an image—my mother, standing in the burning facility, tears streaming down her face. "She knows what you'll become if the ritual succeeds. A weapon. A god. A destroyer of worlds. She'd rather see you dead than transformed."
"No," I whisper. "She wouldn't—"
"She already tried once." The image shifts. Shows a memory I'd buried deep. Five years ago. Mom and I arguing. Her pushing me away from something. An explosion. Me waking up in a hospital while they told me she died saving me.
"The factory explosion was her first attempt to kill you," the Void Speaker says softly. "But you survived. So she faked her death and has been hunting you ever since. Trying to prevent your awakening. Failing, again and again."
The room spins. Nothing makes sense. Everything makes terrible sense.
"Why?" I force the word out. "Why would she want me dead?"
The Void Speaker moves closer, and I smell ozone and ancient things. "Because twenty-five years ago, your mother and I were partners. We discovered the truth about Skyweavers. We learned that one weaver, properly empowered, could rewrite reality itself. Remake the world according to their will."
"And you wanted that power."
"We both did." The figure's voice drops to a whisper. "But your mother got cold feet. Betrayed me. Tried to destroy all our research. So I did what was necessary—I ensured her daughter would inherit everything she tried to prevent."
My wings tremble. "You're my father."
"No. I'm something better. I'm your creator. Your mother is Lyra Ashwind. But I altered you in the womb, wove void magic into your very bones. Made you the perfect vessel for apotheosis." The mask tilts. "In three days, you'll marry Aldric's son. The ritual will activate. And you'll either transcend humanity or die screaming. Either outcome serves my purposes."
"I won't—"
"You will. Because the alternative is watching everyone you love die slowly while I experiment on them." The Void Speaker snaps his fingers. An image appears—Sera, unconscious, chained in a cell I don't recognize. "Your friend is already in my custody. Your mother will be captured within hours. Even young Elena will make an excellent test subject."
Davian throws himself at the Void Speaker. Void energy catches him mid-air, holding him suspended.
"Stupid boy," the figure sighs. "You should have stayed out of this."
"Let him go!" I scream.
"Soon. First, understand your position." The Void Speaker addresses Lord Silvercrest. "Continue preparations. Three days. Not a moment sooner. We do this properly or not at all."
"Yes, Master."
The figure releases Davian, who crashes to the floor gasping.
Then the Void Speaker looks at me one last time. "Welcome to your destiny, Kiera Ashwind. Try not to die before you fulfill it."
He vanishes in a burst of purple light.
The silence that follows is deafening.
Lord Silvercrest straightens his jacket. "Well. Now you understand. The wedding proceeds as scheduled. Resist and your loved ones suffer. Cooperate and they die quickly. Choose."
I help Davian stand. He's shaking. We both are.
"I need time," I say. "Time to think."
"You have seventy-two hours. Use them wisely." Lord Silvercrest moves to the door, pausing with his hand on the lock override. "Oh, and Kiera? Your room is now sealed. No balcony access. No communication devices. No escape. Sleep well."
He leaves. The door locks behind him.
Davian and I stand in the study, surrounded by books and lies and impossible choices.
"We have to run," he says. "Find your mother, free Sera, stop this—"
"We can't." I sink into a chair, exhausted. "He has guards everywhere. Sera's captured. My mother's being hunted. And we're trapped in a house designed to keep Windborn from escaping."
"So we just give up?"
"No." I meet his eyes. "We play along. Make them think we're broken. Then, during the ceremony, we turn their ritual against them."
"How? We don't even know what the ritual does!"
"Then we have three days to figure it out." I stand, wings folding tight. "Your father said something important. He needs us both alive for the ritual to work. Windborn and Skyborn in perfect harmony. That's our advantage."
"What advantage? We're prisoners."
"We're the most important pieces on the board." I smile grimly. "And even trapped pieces can change the game. We just need to find one person who can help us."
"Who?"
The window behind us shatters.
My mother crashes through it, wings spread, covered in blood and void energy, holding a crystalline dagger that pulses with stolen power.
"Get away from my daughter," she snarls at Davian. Then to me: "I'm sorry, Kiera. I love you. But I can't let you become what he made you to be."
She lunges.
The dagger aimed straight at my heart.