Night draped itself over the House of Echoes like a living thing, restless and watching.
Kael walked the balcony in silence, the weight of the day pressing against his chest. Below, the courtyard still bore faint cracks from Nyra's fracture—evidence of how close they had come to losing everything. Reality was no longer fragile by nature. It was fragile because of her.
And because of him.
"You stayed out there too long."
Kael turned at Lyra's voice. She stepped out of the archway, the starlight threading through her hair making her look carved from constellations. But her eyes… they were fire.
"She's dangerous," Lyra said, closing the distance between them. "Every moment she's here, the Abyss digs deeper into this world. And into you."
Kael didn't deny it. He couldn't. "If I don't teach her control, everything we fought for will burn."
Lyra's jaw tightened. "And if she doesn't want control?"
Kael hesitated.
Lyra's voice dropped, a whisper sharpened to a blade.
"You feel it, don't you? The way she looks at you. She doesn't want freedom, Kael. She wants you."
He turned away, gripping the railing. "It's not that simple."
"No," Lyra said, stepping closer, her presence brushing against his like the edge of a storm. "It is. You gave the Abyss a face, a voice, and now it's learning desire. What happens when that desire devours everything else?"
Before Kael could answer, the night shifted.
Shadows rippled across the courtyard like ink spilled in water. They crawled up the balcony pillars, silent, sinuous, drawn to him like gravity.
And then—Nyra was there.
She emerged from the dark as if born from it, her bare feet silent against the stone. Her hair flowed like liquid shadow, and her eyes—two endless voids—fixed on Kael with something raw and hungry.
Lyra's bow shimmered into her hand instantly. "Enough."
Nyra ignored her. Every movement was slow, deliberate, as she stopped just beyond Kael's reach.
"You're awake," she said softly, her voice carrying like silk over a blade. "Good. I was afraid you'd miss it."
"Miss what?" Kael asked, his voice steady though his pulse betrayed him.
"The Abyss dreaming," Nyra whispered. "It's never dreamed before. Not until you."
Lyra stepped forward, bow drawn. "Say one more word, and I'll make sure you never speak again."
Nyra's lips curved, shadows coiling around her like serpents. "You hate me because he doesn't look at you the way he looks at me."
Lyra's bowstring hummed with killing light. Kael moved between them in an instant, power flaring.
"Enough. Both of you."
Nyra tilted her head, her smile deepening—not cruel, but knowing.
"You can train me to control the Abyss, Kael. But you can't control this."
Her fingers brushed the railing beside his hand. Just close enough for the shadows to lick across his skin like smoke. A whisper slid into his mind—not words, but want.
Kael froze. The entity within him stirred, torn between recognition and resistance.
Lyra's voice was ice. "Kael. Step. Away."
But Kael didn't move. Not yet. Because for the first time, he understood what Nyra truly was.
Not just the Abyss's reflection.
She was its longing made flesh.
And if he couldn't master that longing—
It would master him.
The night deepened, and in the distance, the stars flickered like dying candles.