The hall trembled under the weight of tension more dangerous than any blade.
Lyra stood in the archway, bow drawn, her starlit aura spilling across the cracked floor like molten silver. Every line of her body radiated control, but Kael knew—one heartbeat more and her restraint would shatter.
"Step away from him," Lyra repeated, her voice a melody of fury and pain.
Nyra didn't move. Shadows coiled tighter around her, curling up Kael's arms like lovers reluctant to release. Her lips curved in that haunting, almost tender smile.
"Does it break you, archer of the stars," Nyra whispered, "to see him look at me as if I'm something more than darkness?"
Lyra's arrow blazed with starlight, and for a moment Kael feared she would loose it—not to kill, but to erase.
"Don't," Kael said sharply, his voice cracking like a whip.
But Lyra's gaze never left Nyra.
"She's trying to take you. And if she succeeds, Kael… the world ends."
Nyra's laughter was soft, like silk tearing in the dark.
"The world is already ending. He's the only reason it hasn't unraveled completely. You should thank me for wanting to make him whole."
"Whole?" Lyra spat. "You want to hollow him out and wear his skin like a crown."
Nyra tilted her head, her voice sliding low, almost intimate.
"No. I want to be what he already is. Choice. Freedom. Creation. I want to dream as he does. To feel what it means to be loved."
The words struck like a bell in the silence, and Kael's chest tightened painfully.
Lyra's fingers trembled on the bowstring—not from fear, but rage barely leashed. "He's not yours to take."
Nyra's gaze flicked to Kael, her void-deep eyes glowing faintly with a hunger that wasn't just power—it was longing.
"He's not yours to keep."
The hall exploded into light and shadow.
Lyra loosed her arrow in a burst of white flame, and Nyra's shadows surged like a tidal wave of black silk. The two forces collided midair, erupting in a shockwave that shattered the walls of the meditation hall. Students screamed as debris spun through a vortex of clashing light and darkness.
Kael threw up his hands, golden threads spiraling outward to stabilize reality as it buckled. "Enough!"
Neither woman listened.
Lyra blurred forward, her bow transforming into twin blades of celestial fire. She slashed through a curtain of shadow, sparks raining like dying stars. Nyra moved with impossible grace, her body a ripple of night, countering with tendrils that snapped and struck like serpents.
Every strike was more than power—it was possession, a war for something neither was willing to surrender.
And Kael was the axis they were willing to break the world for.
He lunged between them, threads blazing, forming a barrier that shook under the assault. His voice thundered like a collapsing sky.
"STOP!"
For a moment, both forces froze—Lyra with her blades poised, Nyra with her shadows coiled like vipers ready to strike.
Kael's voice was low, raw, and laced with fury.
"This ends now. Or I end it."
The silence that followed was heavier than steel. Lyra's blades lowered, but her eyes burned like suns. Nyra's shadows slithered back, curling protectively around her form.
But neither woman looked defeated.
Because this wasn't a battle of power.
It was a war of hearts.
And Kael knew the truth he'd tried to ignore:
No matter what he chose, the world would fracture.
Above them, the sky cracked again, bleeding violet and gold—a sign that fate itself was watching… and waiting for his decision.