The night air was sharp with tension. The three of us—Lucien, Darius, and I—stood in the clearing, the remnants of our argument echoing through the silent woods. The moon hung low, heavy and watching, like it too was waiting for someone to break.
Lucien’s jaw was tight, his golden eyes burning with barely restrained fury. “You think I don’t feel it?” he snarled. “That power inside you—it’s not just you anymore, Lyra.”
I flinched at his words.
Because I knew he was right.
Ever since Selene’s voice began whispering again in my dreams—soft, coaxing, dangerous—I could feel something shifting in me. My magic no longer obeyed me; it craved. Sometimes it felt like it wanted to consume.
Darius stepped between us, his hand brushing my arm. “She’s still herself, Lucien. You of all people should
