CHAPTER FIVE LYRA’S POV
1132 Words
The Rift slept lightly. Every shadow seemed to breathe, waiting for something to happen, something I couldn’t name yet. The air smelled of iron and frost, and beneath it all, I could still taste the smoke from the last fire Kael built. He said the light kept the whispers away, but I wasn’t sure which whispers he meant — the ones that crawled from the deadlands, or the ones that came from inside my own skull.
Sleep didn’t come easy anymore. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Eira — my sister — standing at the edge of Silverborne’s walls, her face pale and her hands red. I used to promise her we’d run away together, that I’d protect her from everyone who ever sneered at us. Now, she probably thought I was dead. Maybe part of me was.
I clenched my fists, staring at the firelight licking across the stones. “If you could see me now, Eira,” I whispered, “you’d laugh. I can’t even scrub a floor without awakening a cursed king.”
“You talk to yourself when you think I’m not listening,” came Kael’s voice, deep and edged with amusement.
I jumped. He stood a few feet away, shadows hugging his broad frame like armor. The black of his eyes caught the firelight — not human, not mortal. There was something ancient in that gaze, something that made me forget to breathe.
“I wasn’t talking to myself,” I lied.
He arched a brow. “You were talking to ghosts. That’s worse.”
“I have better company among ghosts.”
He stepped closer, slow, deliberate, like a wolf testing the air before a strike. “And yet you’re still here.”
I didn’t answer. The bond between us pulsed faintly under my skin — a thread of warmth that shouldn’t have existed. Every time he came close, it hummed like lightning, as if the universe itself was holding its breath.
“Why are you awake?” I asked, trying to sound annoyed instead of unsettled.
Kael crouched by the fire, his movements smooth, controlled. “You’ll freeze before dawn if you keep brooding. And I can’t have you dying on me.”
“Because I’m your blood tether,” I muttered.
“Because you’re a liability if you can’t defend yourself.” His tone was flat, practical, but I caught a flicker in his eyes — something softer, gone before I could name it. “You carry a goddess inside you, Lyra. You should start acting like it.”
I crossed my arms. “Maybe she’s asleep.”
Kael smirked. “Then we’ll wake her.”
He stood, motioning for me to follow. “Training starts now.”
I blinked. “Now? As in — now now?”
“Do you see any other time written on the moon?”
I groaned. “You’re insane.”
“Probably,” he said with that infuriating calm. “But I’m alive. That’s more than I can say for most.”
He tossed me a wooden blade from his pack — heavy, worn, but balanced. I caught it awkwardly. “You expect me to fight you with this?”
He drew his own sword, the real one — dark metal that shimmered faintly, as if it drank the light. “I expect you to try.”
“Try not to die?”
“That too.”
The first swing nearly took my arm off. He wasn’t gentle — not even a little. Sparks burst from the clash of wood and steel. My arms screamed with effort. Every hit rattled my bones.
“Your stance is wrong,” he said, circling me.
“My everything is wrong!”
“You’ll get used to it.”
“Are you sure you’re not just enjoying this?”
He smiled — actually smiled — and the world tilted a little. “Maybe.”
The banter kept me from collapsing entirely. Every time I stumbled, he corrected me with an infuriating calm, his voice smooth as sin. He moved like a storm in human form — ruthless, controlled, dangerous — and somehow, training with him felt like standing in its eye. Terrifying. But alive.
After what felt like hours, he lowered his sword. “Better,” he said simply.
“Better? I almost died!”
“You didn’t.”
“Yet!”
He stepped closer. Too close. The air between us turned heavy again, thick with something I couldn’t name.
“Fear keeps you alive,” he said, voice low. “But control makes you dangerous.”
“And you like dangerous things?” I asked before I could stop myself.
His lips twitched. “I like things that survive.”
Our eyes met. For a heartbeat, the world stilled. The bond thrummed again — hot, sharp, alive. I hated the way it made my pulse race.
I turned away, tossing the wooden blade aside. “I’m done for tonight.”
“Running already?”
“Resting,” I snapped.
He chuckled softly but didn’t argue. “Fine. Rest. Tomorrow we see how well you bleed.”
“Can’t wait,” I muttered, grabbing my cloak.
As Kael vanished into the shadows, I sank to the ground, my muscles trembling. The night pressed close, full of whispers. Only this time, they didn’t sound like the dead. They sounded like me — murmuring secrets I didn’t want to hear.
That was when I saw it — a faint shimmer bleeding from between the ruins ahead. A pool of silver light, smooth as glass, pulsing with veins of moonfire.
The Moonlight Pools.
Kael’s warning rang in my head: Never touch what reflects your soul.
I should’ve walked away. I should’ve. But the pull was magnetic — like the mirror already knew my name.
My feet moved before my mind agreed. The air thickened, humming like the moment before lightning strikes. I crouched beside the pool, my reflection rippling in the pale glow.
Except — it wasn’t just my reflection.
The face staring back blinked a moment after I did. Its lips curved into a slow, knowing smile. My blood ran cold.
“Who are you?” I whispered.
The reflection tilted its head. The sky in the mirror darkened — the stars smothered, the moon turning crimson. Blood seeped across its surface like spilled ink.
And then I saw it — me, standing under that blood-red moon, my hands slick with shadowlight, Kael kneeling before me, a blade buried in his chest. His black eyes met mine one last time before fading to ash.
I gasped, stumbling back, but the image clung to the glass — unyielding, alive. The pool pulsed once, then cracked down the center, bleeding silver into the dirt.
- Writer
