Chapter 5
1770 Words
Lyra
"You want to take her WHERE?" Damian's voice echoed through the war room.
"The Undermarket," Kael repeated calmly. "It's the only place we'll find what we need."
"That's a death sentence! She can't shift, she's carrying void spawn, and the Undermarket doesn't follow pack law!"
"Which is exactly why we need to go there."
I watched them argue, trying to process everything I'd learned in the last hour. The Silver Moon Pack m******e—an entire nursery of pups killed when a void witch's experiment went wrong. The Undermarket—a hidden supernatural black market where anything could be bought for the right price. And the thing inside me, growing stronger by the hour.
"What could the Undermarket possibly have that we need?" Selene asked.
"A Null Stone," Kael said. "One powerful enough to contain void magic."
Everyone went silent.
"Those are myths," Theo said from his corner, still in chains but now cleaned up. "They don't exist."
"They do. I've seen one." Kael's eyes never left mine. "Twenty years ago, my father used one to stop a possession outbreak. It's the only thing that can safely extract void magic without killing the host."
"Your father," Selene said slowly, "died getting that stone."
"He died saving the pack. There's a difference."
The weight of that statement hung in the air.
"I'll go," I said.
"Lyra—" Damian started.
"It's my life. My choice." I stood, squaring my shoulders. "When do we leave?"
"Now," Kael said. "The Undermarket only opens at midnight on new moon nights. We have four hours to get there."
"I'm coming," Selene announced.
"No. I need you here protecting the pack." Kael looked at his sister. "If the witch attacks again—"
"She won't. Not without the full moon's power."
"We can't risk it."
They stared at each other, some silent sibling communication passing between them. Finally, Selene nodded.
"Take Ronan," she said. "You'll need someone who knows the Undermarket's current layout."
"Ronan Ashford?" I recognized the name. "The exiled Alpha?"
"Former Alpha," Kael corrected. "He abdicated after his mate died. Now he runs... special operations for us."
"He's a mercenary," Damian said bluntly.
"He's useful." Kael pulled out his phone, sending a quick message. "He'll meet us there."
An hour later, I was dressed in clothes I'd never imagined wearing—black leather pants that fit like a second skin, a dark corset that somehow provided armor-like protection, and boots with hidden blades. Selene had insisted, saying Undermarket fashion was also Undermarket protection.
"You look..." Kael paused in the doorway, his eyes traveling over me slowly. "Different."
"Bad different?"
"No." His voice dropped an octave. "Definitely not bad."
Heat flashed between us, intense enough that the thing inside me stirred. But not violently. Almost... contentedly?
"We should go," I said, breaking the moment.
The drive took two hours through winding forest roads I didn't know existed. Kael drove while I sat shotgun, trying not to think about how natural this felt. How right.
"Tell me about your father," I said eventually.
His hands tightened on the wheel. "What about him?"
"How did he really die?"
"Saving me." The words came out flat. "I was eight. Young, stupid, thought I could handle a possessed wolf on my own. My father intervened. The Null Stone broke the possession but the backlash..." He trailed off.
"I'm sorry."
"Don't be. He made a choice. The right choice. I've tried to honor that ever since."
"By becoming the strongest Alpha in the territory?"
"By protecting what's mine."
His hand found mine in the darkness, and I didn't pull away.
We parked at what looked like an abandoned warehouse. But I could feel it—power humming beneath the surface.
"Stay close," Kael murmured, pulling me against his side. "Don't speak unless spoken to. Don't make deals. Don't accept anything offered freely."
"Why?"
"Because nothing in the Undermarket is free."
He pressed his hand against a seemingly random brick. The wall shimmered and revealed a staircase descending into darkness.
The Undermarket was like nothing I'd imagined. Not dark and dingy but brilliantly lit with floating orbs of every color. Stalls lined winding paths that seemed to fold in on themselves. Creatures I'd only heard of in stories browsed alongside wolves, vampires, and things I couldn't identify.
"Kael Draven." A smooth voice made us turn. "I heard you might be visiting."
Ronan Ashford was devastating in a completely different way than Kael. Where Kael was dark intensity, Ronan was golden charm. Blond hair, amber eyes, and a smile that promised trouble.
"Ronan." Kael's greeting was neutral. "Thanks for coming."
"How could I resist?" Ronan's eyes found me, and his smile widened. "You must be the famous Lyra. The girl who has Magnus pissing himself."
"I—"
"Don't talk to him," Kael growled, pulling me closer. "He's not trustworthy."
"I'm wounded." Ronan pressed a hand to his chest dramatically. "I'm perfectly trustworthy. For the right price."
"Which is?"
"Information. I want to know about the void witch."
"After we get the stone."
"During. The seller won't deal with you directly, Kael. Too much history. But a neutral party..." He gestured to himself.
"What history?" I asked.
"Your Alpha killed her son," Ronan said cheerfully. "Admittedly, the boy was trying to assassinate him, but still. Mothers hold grudges."
Great. We needed help from someone who hated Kael.
"Fine," Kael agreed. "But if you double-cross us—"
"You'll rip my throat out, yes, yes. Shall we?"
Ronan led us deeper into the market. The paths grew narrower, the clientele more dangerous-looking. Finally, we stopped at a stall draped in black silk.
"Wait here," Ronan said, disappearing behind the curtain.
While we waited, I felt eyes on us. Lots of eyes. The thing inside me stirred uneasily.
"Kael Draven." A woman emerged from a nearby stall. She was ancient, bent nearly double, but her eyes were sharp. "I have something for your mate."
"We're not—" I started.
"Interested," Kael finished. "Move along."
"Not even in information about her real parents?"
I froze. "My parents are dead."
"The Evermoons? Yes. But they weren't your blood parents, child. Your real mother—"
"Enough." Kael's voice held enough threat to make everyone nearby step back. "We're not buying what you're selling."
The old woman cackled. "The truth is free, Alpha. But ignorance? That costs everything."
She melted back into the crowd before we could respond.
"What did she mean?" I asked.
"Nothing. Undermarket traders lie for fun."
But the seed of doubt was planted. What if Magnus and the others weren't my real family? It would explain so much—why they hated me, why I looked nothing like them, why my wolf was so different.
Ronan reappeared, holding a small velvet box. "She'll trade. But not for money."
"What does she want?" Kael asked.
"A memory. Specifically, Lyra's memory of the night Theo supposedly died."
"Absolutely not," Kael snarled.
"It's the only deal she'll make."
"Then we find another seller."
"There is no other seller. This is the last Null Stone in existence."
I looked at the box. So small, but it could save my life. "What happens if I give her the memory?"
"You lose it," Ronan said simply. "Forever. You'll know something happened, but not what."
Forgetting that horrible night? It sounded like a gift.
"I'll do it."
"Lyra—"
"It's my choice, Kael."
He looked ready to argue, but something in my expression stopped him.
The seller emerged—a woman wrapped in so many veils I couldn't see her face. She held out a crystal sphere.
"Place your hand on it and think of that night," she instructed, her voice strangely familiar. "The memory will transfer."
I reached out—
Pain exploded through my skull. Not from the memory transfer, but from the thing inside me. It thrashed violently, recognizing something. Recognizing her.
The veils fell away.
Freya.
My sister stood there, holding the Null Stone, my stolen wolf glowing in her eyes.
"Hello, sister," she said. "We need to talk."
The Undermarket around us began to shimmer and fade. A trap. This had all been a trap.
"KAEL!" I screamed, but he was frozen, caught in some kind of stasis.
"Don't worry," Freya said, approaching slowly. "I'm not here to hurt you. I'm here to save you."
"By stealing my wolf?"
"By keeping you alive." She held up the Null Stone. "This is real. And I'm really going to give it to you. But first, you need to know the truth."
"What truth?"
"The witch isn't who you think she is." Freya's eyes filled with tears. "She's our mother. Our real mother. And if we don't stop her, she's going to destroy everything."
The world tilted. "That's impossible."
"Is it? Haven't you wondered why you look nothing like the Evermoons? Why your wolf was so different, so powerful that it had to be split just to contain it?"
"You're lying."
"I'm not." She pulled out a photograph, old and faded. It showed the witch, younger, holding two babies. Both with silver hair. Both with gray eyes that held hints of violet.
Both looking exactly like me.
"We're twins," Freya whispered. "Hidden, separated, raised apart. All to keep her from finding us. From using us."
"For what?"
"To open the Void. To bring back the old gods. To end the world as we know it." She pressed the Null Stone into my hands. "And the thing inside you? It's not her child. It's the key. And in three days, if we don't stop her, she's going to rip it out of you and use it to destroy everything."
The stasis shattered. Kael roared, shifting instantly, lunging for Freya.
She was already gone, vanishing into smoke just like—
Just like our mother.
"Lyra!" Kael was human again, checking me for injuries. "What happened? One second we were negotiating, the next—"
"Freya was here." I held up the Null Stone with shaking hands. "And she told me the truth."
"What truth?"
I looked at him, feeling my world crumble. "The void witch is my mother. And apparently, I'm the key to ending the world."
Before he could respond, the thing inside me stirred again. But this time, it spoke. Not in words, but in images. Memories that weren't mine.
The void. Endless darkness filled with things that should not exist. And at its heart, a door.
A door that was starting to crack.
Three days.
We had three days to stop my mother from opening that door.
Or everything—everyone—would be lost.
- Writer
