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The sun was beginning to set over the sprawling Leonhart’s castle, casting long shadows across the manicured gardens and ancient stone walls. Lyra stood by the tall windows of her private chambers, watching the orange hues slowly darken to a dusky purple. The castle, so grand and filled with luxury, now felt suffocating. The looming decision she had made weighed heavily on her heart, twisting it with fear, hope, and something that resembled dread.
Behind her, the soft rustle of wings stirred the air.
Lyra’s heart pounded as she stared across the room at Valerie, her chest tightening with a mix of awe and fear. Her golden hair cascaded down her back like liquid sunlight. The faint glow of her presence, though dulled since her awakening, still filled the room with warmth that felt both comforting and unnatural. She was wearing one of the grown that Lyra gave to her, it was white with silver threads, with her sleek beauty, it looked perfect on her.
A word in dragon speech that tasted of lightning and frost rolled from Valerie's tongue. Her wings, iridescent and vast, folded into her skin like water seeping into sand.
For months, they had spent nearly every waking moment together. Lyra had nursed Valerie back from the edge of death, her body slowly mending as the remnants of her magic, coaxed by Lyra's efforts, seeped back into her being. In return, Valerie had shared her past—her knowledge, her loss, and the unbearable weight of an eternity spent longing for something she could never have again.
"The servants whisper about you," Lyra said, breaking the weighted silence. "They say you're a blessing from Laethos himself. Others call you a curse of Erethis."
Valerie's lips curved in a smile that held no warmth. "And what do you believe, Lyra?"
"I believe..." Lyra's fingers clutched the fabric of her gown. "I believe you're someone who has lost everything."
The floor creaked beneath Valerie's feet as she moved closer. "You've given me shelter, protection, healing. A debt—"
"Don't." Lyra's voice cracked like a whip. "Don't speak to me of debts when I can see how each breath pains you. How you wake screaming his name in the night."
Valerie flinched as if struck. Outside, a cloud passed over the sun, plunging the room into shadow. "You know nothing of him."
"Then tell me, please." Lyra stepped forward, close enough to feel the unnatural warmth radiating from Valerie's skin. "Tell me of the bond that haunts your dreams. Tell me of the man who left such a void in your heart that centuries haven't filled it."
"Einar." The name fell from Valerie's lips like a prayer, like a curse. She pressed a hand to the window, and frost bloomed beneath her fingers. "Einar of Emberheart. He was... he was dawn after endless night. He was the sword that protected our people, even as they drove the blade deeper into his heart."
"What happened?" Lyra's voice softened to barely a whisper.
Valerie's wings shimmered beneath her skin, a reflection of her agitation. "Some feared his power. They turned people against him. Called him monster, demon, betrayer. But still he fought for them. Still, he bled for them. Until—" Her voice broke, and the temperature in the room plummeted.
"Until?"
"Until they turned on me." Valerie's eyes flashed with ancient rage. "They would have burned me alive for loving him. And so he... he gave everything. His power, his honor, his life—to save those who had condemned us both."
The silence that followed was heavy, suffocating. Lyra’s fingers tightened around Valerie’s hand, her heart aching for the woman who had been left behind, who had suffered so much for love. “I’m so sorry,” Lyra whispered, her voice trembling. There was nothing else she could say. No words could ever heal a wound like that.
Valerie’s eyes, filled with centuries of sorrow, suddenly flickered with something else—hope, faint but unmistakable. “There might be a way...” she said softly, almost too quietly for Lyra to hear.
Lyra froze, her breath catching in her throat. “A way?” she repeated, her voice barely above a whisper. “What do you mean?”
For a long moment, Valerie said nothing, her fingers trembling as if she were afraid to even speak the words aloud. Then, finally, she met Lyra’s gaze, her voice barely more than a breath. “I still have his heart,” she confessed. “It still beats, trapped within an artifact that halts time. If I could find a newborn, untouched by the world’s energy... I could bind his soul to the child. He could return.”
Lyra’s breath caught in her throat, her pulse quickening. A newborn untouched by energy? It was almost impossible. It flowed through every living being like blood. But before she could fully comprehend the enormity of what Valerie had just told her, a realization struck her, one that sent chills through her entire being.
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Months have passed, and Lyra’s bond with Valerie grew deeper. Their shared moments were no longer just about healing; they had grown into friends. Aeron stood beside her, and his connection to Lyra had grown far beyond what they had imagined. Lyra was with child, Aeron’s child.
One evening, Lyra stood before Valerie in the castle’s quite garden, the cool air pressing against her skin. Her hand instinctively moved to rest on her belly, feeling the steady pulse of life within her. Her child... untouched, untainted by magic. The answer to Valerie’s longing, her suffering.
The air around them seemed to still, thick with the weight of what was left unsaid. And in that silence, Lyra made her choice.
She met Valerie’s gaze, her voice steady but filled with emotion. “I want you to place his soul in my child.”
Valerie recoiled, her wings fluttering as if caught by a sudden wind. “Lyra, no,” she said, her voice laced with horror. “You don’t know what you’re asking. The risks are too great. If something goes wrong—”
“Let me do this, for you,” Lyra interrupted, her eyes fierce with determination. “I've seen how you suffer. I've heard your cries in the night. If there's a chance to make this right—”
“The risks—"
"Are mine to take." Lyra seized Valerie's hands, ignoring the trembling that shot through her bones. "You spoke of debt? Then fulfil my request. Let me give birth to him."
"It could kill the child," Valerie whispered, tears dripping down her cheeks. "It could tear apart his very soul."
“My blood will protect him, I’ll protect him,” Lyra whispered, her voice cracking with the weight of the promise. “I’ll seal his magic, give him time to grow amongst humans, adjust with his memories. He’ll have a normal life...”
The last light of day faded from the windows, leaving them in darkness broken only by the faint glow of Valerie's presence. In the garden below, a nightingale began to sing, its melody a counterpoint to their ragged breathing.
"You would trust me with this?" Valerie's voice trembled. "After everything I've told you?"
"I trust you because of everything you've told me." Lyra squeezed her hands. "Now, tell me what must be done."
The nightingale's song faded, and in its place, destiny held its breath.
For a long moment, neither of them spoke, the enormity of the decision pressing down on both of them like a heavy fog. Finally, Valerie nodded, her tears falling silently, and the weight of destiny settled between them.
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The Shallow Ruins had never felt so alive, so charged with magic, as they did that night. It was as if the very stones around them remembered, the ancient symbols carved into the walls humming with a power long forgotten. The secret chamber, deep beneath the earth, held an eerie quiet, broken only by the rhythmic pulse of the crystal sphere hovering above Valerie.
Valerie's hands trembled as she approached the artifact. Her wings curled inward as if trying to shield her from what must come next. "I haven't... I haven't touched it since that day."
The crystal sphere was the artifact, with veins of deep crimson running through it. It pulsed with a rhythm that echoed through the stones. Valerie pressed her palm against its surface, and the chamber filled with a keening note, like metal stressed to breaking.
"Valerie?" Lyra stepped back, her spine pressing against the cold stone. "What's happening?"
"He knows." Valerie's voice cracked. "Even after all this time, he knows my touch."
"Om shaktibhrit sparshaṁ bhinmaah,
Maaya-jalaṁ tirobhavantu,
Asato maargah prabhaasitam,
Shodhayāmi yantraṁ!"
Valerie whispered words in some ancient tongue. The artifact's surface rippled like disturbed water as cracks appeared in the crystal. Lightning spilled through them, red as dawn, red as blood.
Then the artifact shattered.
Suspended in the air where the crystal had been, Einar's heart beats. It was perfectly preserved, neither dead nor truly alive, covered in runes that spiraled across its surface like a language written in starlight. The markings pulsed with each beat, sending waves of force through the chamber that made the ancient stones groan.
“Laethos protect us.” Lyra's legs buckled as she placed three fingers across her heart. The power emanating from the floating heart felt wrong, too wild, too ancient, like staring into a storm that could swallow worlds. "What manner of magic is this?"
"I don't know." Valerie reached for the heart with shaking hands. "I've never understood the runes. They were there when she..." Her voice failed. "When she cut it from his chest."
The moment Valerie's fingers touched the heart, bolts of red lightning exploded outward. Stones cracked. Dust rained from above. Lyra threw her arms up as debris pelted her skin.
"Stay back!" Valerie's wings spread wide, trying to contain the surge of magic. "He fights the touch of the living. Even mine."
But Lyra couldn't look away. The runes on the heart were moving, flowing like liquid metal across its surface. Each beat sent another wave of force through the chamber, and with it came whispers, fragments of a language that made her ears bleed.
"I can't..." Lyra pressed herself against the wall, terror clawing at her throat. "Valerie, I can't do this. That power… it's fighting the nature of magic itself. It's something dark."
"Lyra." Valerie cradled the heart, tears falling freely now. "My love may not be natural. What they did to him was not right. But this..." She looked down at the beating heart in her hands, at the runes that danced across its surface. "This is not his truth. This only shows his sufferings."
Another pulse rocked the chamber. A crack splits the stone slab from end to end.
"Those runes," Lyra forced herself to step forward, though every instinct screamed at her to run. "You truly don't know their purpose?"
Valerie shook her head. "They were there even before we first met. He once told me these markings burned into his heart, to protect him from the curse." Her wings shuddered. "Perhaps they're for relief from that curse. Perhaps he was born with those. Or perhaps..." She looked up, her ancient eyes full of terrible hope. "Perhaps they're there for some greater purpose.”
The heart's rhythm changed, becoming stronger and more insistent. Then one of the runes blazed brighter than others, and its whispers grew clearer. Still incomprehensible, they seemed somehow familiar to Valerie’s ears, like they had been placed there just for this moment by someone.
"It's time." Valerie moved toward the cracked stone slab. "Lie down, Lyra. Let us see if your courage matches your compassion."
Lyra forced her trembling legs to move. Each step closer to the slab felt like walking through deep water. The heart's power pressed against her skin, trying to push her back, to keep her away.
"If..." She swallowed hard as she lay on the cold stone. "If something goes wrong—"
"Then I would have failed them twice." Valerie held the heart above Lyra's chest. "And this time, there will be no third chance."
The runes on the heart flared, their light painting Valerie's tears of blood. In that moment, Lyra saw not the powerful being who had survived centuries, but simply a woman trying to reclaim something precious that had been stolen.
"Tell him of me," Valerie whispered, her voice thick with emotion. "When he's old enough to understand. Tell him..." She pressed her lips to the heart, one final kiss. "Tell him I kept it beating. All these years, I kept it beating."
The heart's rhythm surged, and the ritual began.
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Lyra lay still on the cold slab of stone, her breath shallow, her fingers trembling as they brushed the cool surface. The air around her felt thick, almost liquid, with the weight of the magic pressing down from all sides. It was overwhelming, and suffocating, but she had no choice but to endure it. Above her, the heart, its glow throbbing like a heartbeat, in time with the ancient words that flowed from Valerie’s lips.
Valerie stood at the head of the stone slab, her eyes fixed on the heart, her voice strong despite the tremble in her hands. The incantation spilled from her in a language that rang the same as the ancient tongue she used before, but it felt sweet as a song of power and time, of lost love and bound destinies. The chamber seemed to resonate with her words, the red glow from the runes on the heart intensifying as the magic responded to her voice.
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Each word felt like it carried the weight of the past, pulling at the air, filling the space with a force neither of them fully understood. Lyra clenched her jaw, trying to hold steady, but the pressure was building, the weight of the magic pulling at her very soul.
The heart above her began to pulse faster, its beat growing stronger, filling the chamber with a rhythm that echoed through her chest. Lyra felt the energy shift around her womb, the life inside her stirring in response to the ancient magic. It was a strange sensation—intense yet intimate, like she could feel not just her own heartbeat but something more, something... other.
A sharp pain shot through her, and her hands flew to her chest as the pulse of the heart intensified. Her breathing quickened, the pressure mounting, but she gritted her teeth and pressed on. This was for him—for the child, for the future. She had come this far; she wouldn’t turn back now.
Valerie’s voice rose above the mounting tension, her chant reaching its peak. The light in the chamber grew brighter, the runes on the walls pulsating like they were alive. The artifact flickered violently, its glow growing unstable as the magic surged toward its final moments.
And then, in a burst of blinding light, the artifact vanished.
The force of the ritual hit them both like a tidal wave. Valerie stumbled backward, collapsing to the ground, her wings trembling as she struggled to steady herself. Lyra felt the surge of power slam into her chest, forcing her eyes shut as her body absorbed the remnants of the ancient magic. She gasped, her breath catching in her throat as the heartbeat within her—Einar’s heartbeat—merged with her own.
A searing pain tore through her chest, and she winced, clenching her fists against the slab as a dark rune burned itself into her skin just above her heart. The pain faded quickly, leaving behind only a faint glow as the rune settled into her flesh, a mark that would never fade.
It was done.
Lyra lay still, her chest rising and falling rapidly as the weight of the ritual finally lifted. Her limbs felt heavy, too exhausted to move, but she needed to know. She needed to be sure.
“Is it... done?” she rasped, her voice barely above a whisper.
Valerie, still kneeling on the ground, her face pale and streaked with tears, nodded slowly. Her body trembled, her wings limp at her sides as she fought to regain her strength.
Lyra pressed a hand to her belly, feeling the new power that coursed through her child's veins. "And his memories?"
"In dreams at first. Then in waking moments. When he begins to remember, when the memories start to surface... You must tell him everything. Help him understand what he once was. What he must become again." Valerie met Lyra's gaze. "But you must remember, Lyra... raise him with love. Keep him away from anger, from hatred, from darkness. If he succumbs to that... it won’t just be your family that suffers.” Her eyes glistened with tears. “It will be all of us.”
Despite the exhaustion that weighed her down, Lyra managed a faint smile. “I promise,” she said softly, her voice filled with a deep resolve. “I’ll give him all the love in the world, and keep him away from darkness.”
Valerie pushed herself up from the ground, though her legs wobbled beneath her. She moved closer to Lyra, her hand trembling as she reached out and placed it over the dark rune that now marked her chest. Her touch was gentle, filled with both gratitude and grief. “Thank you,” Valerie whispered, her voice thick with emotion. “For everything. You’ve given me... more than I could have ever hoped for.”
Lyra closed her eyes, feeling the warmth of Valerie’s hand against her skin. Her mind, though heavy with fatigue, drifted toward the future—the life that now grew within her, carrying not just her child but the soul of a warrior long thought lost. She had given them both a chance at life, at redemption, but the burden was great, and the path ahead was uncertain.
As exhaustion finally overtook her, Lyra’s thoughts began to blur. She knew, deep down, that the world would come for him one day. The power that now stirred within her child would not remain hidden forever. The forces that had torn Valerie and Einar apart once before would surely rise again. And when they did, she would be ready.
The chamber fell silent, the faint glow of the runes beginning to fade as the ancient magic settled into the earth once more. Lyra’s breathing slowed, her body sinking into the cold stone as sleep claimed her.
And in the quiet of the Shallow Ruins, the echoes of a forgotten love story began to stir once more, waiting for the day they would be remembered.
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The heavy blackwood doors of the Leonhart estate crashed open, ancient hinges screaming in protest. Wind howled through the grand hall, extinguishing several wall sconces. The remaining torches cast wild shadows across centuries-old tapestries depicting dragons from the old era – beasts no living eye had seen in eight hundred years, their absence as heavy as the winter air.
The heat of burning wood from the hearth mixed with the hot air that radiated from Lord Edwinn's surrounding flames. His fire magic manifested in furious waves, a pale imitation of the infernos their ancestors once commanded. The ancestral sword of House Leonhart rattled in its mount above the great fireplace, its runes dark and dormant, waiting.
By the door-sized window, Lyra stood motionless. One hand pressed against the cold glass, the other protective over her belly. Her breath fogged the pane, obscuring the falling snow outside. The gardens below, where she had first met Aeron when her father introduced him to everyone, fourteen-year-old boy only three years older than her, his grey eyes bright with laughter as he trains with her older brother, Edward. But now, it seemed as distant as her father's love.
"Lyra!" Edwinn's voice thundered through the chamber, making the massive iron chandelier tinkle ominously. "Is it true? You carry the child of that stone mason? That common-born who dares soil our bloodline?"
She flinched but didn't move. The weight of her mother's bracelet pressed against her wrist, its metal warm despite the winter chill, a reminder of duties and promise as ‘Lady of House Leonhart’. The same duties which she has neglected for love, the same promise that was meant to keep, have been broken by the deeds done in name of love.
"Yes, Father." Her voice wavered but held. "Aeron's child."
His face twisted, the veins on his neck bulging as his fists clenched. The flames around him surged, but they barely reached his shoulders – a far cry from the legends of their ancestors who could summon dragon-fire at will.
"You've damned us all," he spat. "We have descended from dragons, with noble blood coursing through our veins. We once spoke the dragon tongue and commanded the great wyrms themselves. Yet, you throw it all away for a man who can't even light a candle without a wand? A mare knight? A bastard child who will stain our legacy for generations?"
The words hit like physical blows, but her mother's teachings from A Way of the Dragons echoed in her mind. One particular line stuck to her until now:
‘Verily, keep thy soul's truth steadfast, though the wyrm's shadow darkens thy path.’
Motivated by the words, she straightened her spine to face the dragon in front with her true self and truth. "The dragons abandoned us centuries ago, Father. They fled beyond the unknown, leaving us with nothing but empty words and fading power. But Aeron..." Her voice strengthened. "Aeron loves me. Protects me. When my flames flickered and died during training at college, he didn't sneer like the other nobles. He showed me how to cast fire by wands, taught me there's no shame in—"
"Shame?" Edwinn barked a laugh that held no humor. "You speak to me of shame? The nobles already whisper about our weakening blood. When they learn the Princess of Leonhart carries a stone mason's bastard..." Each step toward her made the floorboards groan beneath the ancient carpet. "The same vipers who mocked your weak flames will now have cause to move against our house."
"Then let them come," she whispered, one hand still pressed protectively over her belly. "Our ancestors didn't tame dragons through cruelty, Father. The old scrolls speak of understanding, of—"
"Enough!" The word cracked like a whip. "I've made my decision. I will end this disgrace before it ruins us all."
The blood drained from Lyra's face. Her heart raced wildly, and she instinctively stepped back, hands pressed harder against her stomach. "No!"
The tension in the room crackled, the storm of Edwinn's anger threatening to break. The air grew thick with the taste of magic, but something else too – something older, wilder.
Then, a voice cut through the suffocating atmosphere. Cold. Ancient. Final.
"Get away from her."
Out of the shadows, Valerie stepped forward. The very air grew heavy, tasting of lightning and ancient stone. The torchlight caught her eyes, and for a moment, they flickered with something inhuman.
"You dare interfere?" Edwinn snarled, turning to face her.
"You speak of dragon's blood?" Her laugh held no warmth. "You mortals and your delusions of grandeur. How many generations removed are you from your ancestor? Eight hundred years of diluted blood, and you still cling to past glories?"
The ancestral sword's runes began to glow, first a dull red, then brighter, casting strange shadows across the hall. The tapestries seemed to ripple, though no wind stirred them.
Edwinn's lips curled. "You dare lecture me about bloodlines? We are true descendants of dragons! We carry the ancient fire within us—"
"Ancient fire?" Valerie's voice dropped to a whisper that somehow filled the entire hall. "You call those sparks around you fire?" She gestured at his flames, which flickered and shrank as if ashamed. "You know nothing of true fire, of the eternal flames that forged the world. Flames of Lord Zerathu’um himself."
The air pulsed. The ancestral sword's runes blazed brilliant crimson, casting bloody light across the stone walls. The metal began to sing, a high keening note that set teeth on edge.
"You're nothing but a servant," Edwinn spat, but uncertainty crept into his voice. "A filth my foolish daughter brought to—"
"Filth?" The word rolled through the chamber like distant thunder. "It has been far too long since someone called me that. Edwinn Leonhart, you think your bloodline is noble than me?"
The air around her shimmered, charged with power that made the room tremble. Her golden hair caught the rune-light, transforming into living flame. Her eyes, usually pale blue, blazed with molten gold. Horns curved from her head, scaled patterns rippling across her skin like liquid metal.
"By the First Flame..." Edwinn stumbled back. The sword's song reached a fever pitch.
When her wings unfurled, they filled the hall with light that seemed to come from another age of the world. Strange shadows danced on the walls—shapes that suggested there were more to this world then they seem to know. The very stones of the castle trembled with the weight of her true nature revealed.
Edwinn fell to his knees, the proud lord reduced to trembling silence before something far older than his bloodline could comprehend. "You... you're..."
"A Drekon," she finished, her voice thundering with harmonics that shouldn't be possible from a human throat. "We have walked this earth when humans were still learning to kindle fires in caves. We have taught first sorcerers their craft. The dragons you so pride yourself on commanding, they were our lesser kin, bound to us by ties you cannot fathom."
The tapestries writhed on the walls, their woven dragons seemingly trying to break free of their thread prisons. The sword's runes pulsed in rhythm with Valerie's words, as if recognizing something older than its forging.
"Your pride blinds you," she continued, each word heavy with power. "This child Lyra carries... the blood runs truer than you know. The old powers stir beyond the Kal Mountains. Change comes, whether you will it or not."
Lyra watched her father—this towering, unshakable force of her childhood—kneel before true power. His flames had guttered out entirely, leaving only the sword's crimson light and Valerie's otherworldly glow.
"Father," Lyra whispered, stepping forward. Her voice shook, but she forced the words out. "I never meant to shame you. You've loved me, protected me, even when my flames proved weak. But this child..." She touched her belly. "He deserves life. If you must punish someone, punish me."
Something broke in Edwinn's expression. The fury drained away, leaving something raw and vulnerable. "My daughter," he breathed, reaching for her hand. "The nobles... they will..."
"Then stand with her," Valerie commanded, her form beginning to shift back to human guise, though power still hummed in the air. "Not against her. The old magic will return to this world, and this child may be more vital than any of us know."
The sword's runes dimmed slowly, like embers cooling. Outside, snow continued to fall on an unchanged world, but within the hall, nothing would ever be quite the same.
Valerie turned away, pausing at the threshold. Small arcs of power still crackled between her fingers. "Remember, Edwinn Leonhart, this child's path, whether toward salvation or ruin, begins with the choice you make today."
She vanished into the shadows, leaving father and daughter in the quiet aftermath of revelation. The portraits of their ancestors seemed different now—smaller, less significant in the face of true power. And somewhere in the distance, carried on the winter wind, a roar echoed from beyond the mountains – perhaps thunder, perhaps something more.
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The night air hung thick with a stillness that only deepened the weight pressing down on Lyra's chest. She stood by the open window of her chambers, in the same palace where just months ago her father's flames had threatened to consume everything—before understanding had replaced his rage. Now, the silver moon cast its pale light across the palace gardens, while torches from the guard's patrols flickered in the distance, searching.
Their presence was a constant reminder of her shame, they called it. The future bride of the Prince Ishar, carrying a bastard. Each day brought new threats wrapped in courtly words, new demands disguised as concern for House Leonhart's honor. Her father had stood against them all, his flames have weakened but still burning with paternal fury, but she had seen the toll it took. The proud Lord Edwinn, his once ember hairs growing greyer by the day, fighting battles in council chambers and secret meetings to protect his disgraced daughter.
Her hand moved to her swollen belly, feeling the gentle movements of the child within—a child that carried not just common blood, as the nobles sneered, but something far more ancient. Something that made the ancestral sword's runes pulse with recognition each time she passed the great hall.
Footsteps echoed softly behind her, and she turned to see Valerie step into the room. Moonlight caught on the barely visible scales that still shimmered beneath her human guise. Her golden hair, usually so vibrant, seemed dulled by centuries of heartache, yet there was a quiet strength in the way she moved.
"The royal guards have doubled their patrols," Valerie said softly. "They grow bolder each night. Soon, not even your father's influence will keep them at bay."
Without a word, they embraced. The contact was like an anchor, steadying them both. Lyra pressed her forehead into Valerie's shoulder, remembering how this same being had stood between her and her father's wrath, revealing powers that could have cowed the entire royal court, and yet chose to remain hidden, for reasons Lyra can fully understand.
"I don't want to go," Lyra whispered, her voice barely audible. The weight of her mother's bracelet felt heavier now, a reminder of the marriage contract she had shattered, of the noble duties she had forsaken for love. "How can I leave him like this? Father has lost so much already, fighting for me... If only brother was here…"
Valerie's hand came up to cup Lyra's cheek, her touch light yet full of power that made the nearby candle flames dance. "Your father found something greater than pride that day, Lyra. He found the strength to love beyond the bounds of blood and station. But if you stay..." Her eyes, ancient and sad, flickered to the window where another patrol passed. "The wolves will not rest until they have their prey. They will tear your house apart stone by stone."
The words hung heavy in the air, settling over Lyra like chains. She glanced down at her belly, where the child stirred again, as if sensing the weight of destiny upon them both. In the distance, she could hear the chatters of guards, they were growing ever bolder in their insults.
"What about you?" she asked, her voice catching. "They know you helped us. They'll—"
Valerie's smile carried echoes of ages past. "I have survived worse than this," she said softly. "This is not my first dance with mortal kings who thought their power absolute. I have questions that need answers, for myself, and for Einar. I will find my way back to him... back to my heart. This is only one chapter in a much longer story, that will need blood as ink sooner or later."
She lowered herself, kneeling gently to place a kiss on Lyra's belly. "We will meet again, my love," she whispered, her words filled with an ageless, quiet affection.
Lyra shivered as the room around them seemed to still. Valerie stood, pulling something from her cloak. She held out a delicate amulet, its chain fine and intricate, the red stone at its center pulsing with ancient light. "This is more than a keepsake," she said. "It carries a part of me. If ever you need me, no matter where I am, I will hear you. But like all old magic, it is fragile—use it only when there is no other choice."
Lyra felt the cool metal in her palm, warm power pulsing against her skin. "I'll protect him," she promised, thinking of her father's face, lined with new worries, yet somehow nobler now than when he commanded flames. "And when the time comes, I will find you."
Valerie smiled, though it was laced with ancient sorrow. "Love will guide you through this, Lyra. It is a bond older than even my kind, and far more powerful than any other bonds, Zerethu’um himself preserves these bonds."
Just then, horns blew in the distance, signal for the royal guard changing shifts. Their time was running out. Valerie stepped back, her wings shimmering into view one last time, casting patterns of light that danced like memories of freedom.
"Goodbye, Lyra," Valerie whispered, her voice carrying harmonics that seemed to mourn for all that was being lost.
Lyra watched as she dissolved into the wrap formed by her ancient magic, leaving the room impossibly cold. But then Aeron stepped forward from his hiding place, his grey eyes steady in the darkness, black hair catching the moonlight. His rough hands, strong from years of swinging swords, reached for her with the same certainty that had first given her the courage to defy her fate.
"Are you ready?" he asked, the same quiet strength that had made her choose love over duty evident in his voice.
Lyra nodded, though her throat tightened. "We need to leave now," she said, hearing the distant sound of marching feet. "They won't stop until they take him."
Aeron wrapped his arms around her, pressing a kiss to her head. "We'll protect him," he murmured. "No matter what."
Lyra stuffs her head into his broad chest, drawing strength from his presence. She didn’t know what the future held, but she knew one thing: they would face it together.
Or she thought.
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