Chapter 10: The Silver Fire
1536 Words
Lyra knew she was being watched before Darius even crossed the border.
The wolf inside her had felt him the moment he stepped into the forbidden lands. A foreign presence, male and cautious and carrying the scent of the capital on his skin. She had told Thorne about it while they trained by the lake. Thorne had told her to ignore it. The ancient wolves would handle any intruder.
But Lyra could not ignore it.
The presence pulled at her like a string tied to her ribs. Not the mate bond. That was different. Quieter. Sleeping, as Darius had guessed, but not gone. This was something else. This was the power inside her reaching out toward something familiar. Something that smelled like smoke and pine and the great hall where her life had ended.
She stood at the edge of the lake as the sun set, watching the cliff where she knew the scout was hiding. Her wolf pressed against her skin, eager and restless. The silver markings on her arms glowed brighter as the sky darkened.
Let me out, the wolf said.
Not yet, Lyra replied.
He is watching us. Let him see what we are.
Lyra considered this. The wolf was right. The scout had come looking for answers. Perhaps it was time to give him some. Not out of kindness. Out of strategy. If the capital wanted to know what they had created, let them see.
She raised her hand toward the cliff.
The silver fire came easily now. Too easily. It flowed from her palm like water, bright and hot and hungry. She did not send it toward the scout. She simply let it dance across her fingers, lighting up the darkness, painting her skin in shades of white and blue.
The scout scrambled backward. She could feel his fear even from this distance. Good. Let him be afraid. Let him run back to Kael with stories of the monster in the valley.
She lowered her hand and watched the scout disappear into the trees.
Thorne appeared beside her, silent as smoke.
"You let him see you," he said.
Lyra nodded. "He came to find me. I showed him what he wanted."
Thorne was quiet for a moment. Then he said, "Kael will come now. Not today. Not tomorrow. But soon. The scout will tell him what he saw, and Kael will not be able to stay away."
Lyra looked at the cliff where the scout had been hiding. The trees were still now, empty.
"Good," she said.
Thorne turned to look at her. His amber eyes searched her face for something. Regret. Fear. Doubt. He found none.
"You are not the girl who arrived here a week ago," he said.
Lyra smiled. It was not a happy smile.
"No," she agreed. "That girl died in the great hall. I am what came after."
She walked back toward the stone room. Thorne did not follow.
That night, Lyra dreamed of fire again.
But this time the fire was hers.
She stood in the center of the great hall, the same hall where Kael had rejected her. The torches were lit. The wolves were gathered. But they were not laughing at her. They were on their knees. Every single one of them. Bowing.
Kael stood at the far end of the hall, his golden eyes wide, his hand pressed against his chest. He was not wearing his crown. He looked smaller than she remembered. Less like a king and more like a boy who had made a terrible mistake.
Lyra walked toward him through the kneeling wolves. Her bare feet made no sound on the stone floor. The silver fire danced across her skin, lighting up the hall brighter than a thousand torches.
She stopped in front of him.
"Kael Blackthorn," she said. Her voice echoed off the walls. "You rejected me."
He did not deny it. He simply looked at her with those golden eyes, and for the first time, she saw fear in them.
"I was wrong," he said.
Lyra tilted her head. "Wrong?"
"I should have accepted you. I should have seen what you were. I should have"
"You should have done a lot of things." Lyra cut him off. Her voice was cold. "But you did not. You called me nothing. You threw me away. And now you want to take it back because you learned that I am powerful."
Kael's jaw tightened. "That is not"
"Isn't it?" Lyra stepped closer. Close enough to touch. Close enough to see the cracks in his composure. "If I were still the wolfless girl in the muddy dress, would you be standing here telling me you were wrong? Would you be looking at me like I mattered?"
Kael did not answer.
Lyra laughed. It was an ugly sound.
"I did not think so."
She turned away from him and walked toward the throne. The skull of the ancient beast gleamed in the firelight. She climbed the steps of the dais and sat down in the seat that had never been meant for her.
The wolves gasped.
Kael stared.
Lyra looked out at the crowd of kneeling wolves and felt nothing.
"The throne is mine now," she said. "Not because I want it. Because you gave it to me when you threw me away. You created this. You made me into something that even you cannot control."
The dream began to crumble. The walls cracked. The torches went out. The wolves faded to shadows.
But Kael remained.
He stood at the foot of the dais, looking up at her with an expression she could not name.
"Lyra," he said.
That was the first time he had said her name.
She woke up.
The stone room was dark. The fire in the hearth had burned down to embers. Lyra sat up in bed, her heart pounding, her skin slick with sweat. The silver markings on her arms were blazing so bright that she could see every corner of the room.
The wolf inside her was howling.
He said your name.
Lyra pressed her hand against her chest, where the sleeping mate bond pulsed like a second heartbeat.
"I know," she whispered.
He is coming.
Lyra swung her legs over the side of the bed. She stood up and walked to the small window near the ceiling. The moon hung low over the valley, painting the lake in shades of silver and white.
"Let him come," she said.
The wolf settled inside her, but she did not sleep. She stood at the window until dawn, watching the eastern mountains, waiting for a sign that she could not name.
The sign came with the sunrise.
A bird. Black wings. Flying fast and low over the valley. It circled three times and then dropped something at the edge of the lake. A small piece of parchment, tied with a red ribbon.
Lyra walked to the lake and picked it up.
The handwriting was unfamiliar. Sharp. Angry. Female.
Come home, little wolf. The king is lost without you. And I am growing impatient.
Selene.
Lyra read the note three times. Then she crumpled it in her fist. The silver fire consumed the parchment without her having to think about it. Ash scattered across the surface of the lake.
Thorne appeared beside her. He must have been watching from somewhere nearby.
"She knows where you are," he said.
Lyra nodded. "She has known all along."
"And still you are not afraid."
Lyra looked at the ash floating on the water. She thought about the dream. About Kael saying her name. About the throne that had fit her so perfectly.
"I am tired of being afraid," she said. "I have been afraid my whole life. Afraid of the pack. Afraid of the Alpha. Afraid of being alone. But I am not alone anymore. And I am not weak. And I am done hiding."
Thorne studied her face for a long moment.
"What do you want to do?" he asked.
Lyra turned to face him. The silver markings on her skin blazed in the morning light. Her eyes reflected the fire.
"I want to go home," she said. "Not to Shadow Creek. Not to the pack that hated me. I want to go to the capital. I want to look Kael Blackthorn in the eye. And I want to show him exactly what he lost."
Thorne did not argue. He did not tell her she was not ready. He simply nodded.
"Then we have work to do," he said. "The journey to the capital will take three days. You will need to be stronger than you are now. Much stronger."
Lyra smiled. This time, it was a real smile. Sharp and dangerous and full of fire.
"Then teach me."
The wolf inside her howled in agreement.
And somewhere in the capital, Kael Blackthorn dropped the cup he was holding for the second time in a week. The wine spilled across the stone floor. He did not notice.
He was staring east.
His wolf was howling.
And for the first time since the night of the mating ceremony, he felt the mate bond stir.
Not broken.
Not gone.
Sleeping.
And waking up.
- Writer
