The sky was ablaze.
Flames licked the heavens as the Hollow Wolf reared back, its golden eyes gleaming with an unnatural light—Kael's light. The forest beyond Ashwood Keep had caught fire in a perfect circle, the burning trees marking the ancient boundary once held by the First Oath.
Lyra stood her ground, eyes narrowed, blade ready.
And yet, her hands trembled.
This wasn't just war. This was prophecy. The Gate had opened—and her brother, her last blood kin, had become the vessel of the destroyer spirit they were sworn to contain.
"Lyra!" a voice called.
Kaelen stumbled toward her, armor dented, breathing ragged. Behind him, the last of their warriors rushed through the crumbling arch of the southern wall, shielding a procession of wounded.
"There's nothing left to defend. We need to flee!"
She didn't take her eyes off the beast. "There's nowhere left to run."
The Hollow Wolf growled. The earth vibrated with its hunger. Each step forward cracked the ground like ancient ice, and the silver runes across its bones pulsed brighter with every breath.
From within its chest, a voice echoed—Kael's voice, distorted but unmistakable.
"You should have listened, sister. You should have let it die."
Lyra's grip tightened. "I won't let you speak through it. I know what's left of you is still in there."
"What's left of me died the night father broke his vow."
The Hollow Wolf lunged.
Lyra barely dodged, rolling beneath a sweep of its massive claw. The force shattered the wall behind her. She sprang up and slashed—Shadowfang sparked against the creature's ribs, but the strike did little. It was like slicing wind.
She leapt again, this time aiming for the beast's throat. Mid-air, the wolf opened its jaws—golden light erupted, a wave of soulfire crashing toward her like a storm.
She crossed her arms.
And the world exploded.
When she came to, she was buried under stone and soot, her lungs gasping for breath.
But she was not alone.
She felt it—the pulse.
A second heartbeat.
Not her own.
Within her chest, something had awakened. Not rage. Not vengeance.
Memory.
A voice—ancient, feminine, strong—spoke inside her mind.
"Daughter of dusk, bearer of oathfire… rise."
Her fingers clawed at the rubble. Her wounds stitched shut as pale silver light emerged from beneath her skin, carving forgotten glyphs across her arms.
She rose.
Not as the Lyra who ran from destiny.
But as the one who had been born to end it.
Lyra stood amid the ruins, her hair floating as if underwater, her eyes no longer violet—but silver-white, glowing like twin moons. The glyphs along her arms shifted with living light, forming the First Mark: the Sigil of Binding.
The Hollow Wolf paused. For the first time, it hesitated.
Kael's voice, trapped within its cavernous body, whispered again—softer now.
"What have you done…?"
"I remembered," Lyra said, her voice layered with something older than herself. "The truth you tried to bury."
She stepped forward. With every movement, the ground healed beneath her feet, stones returning to place, flame turning to mist.
The Hollow Wolf growled—but the resonance was fractured.
Inside, Kael was still fighting.
Lyra's mind flashed back.
A memory, buried deep.
She was eight years old, hiding beneath the root of the old ash tree behind their keep. Her mother knelt beside her, hand over Lyra's heart.
"You have the moon's fire in you," she whispered. "One day, when the darkness comes, it will answer. But only if your heart remains true."
Lyra had cried then, frightened by her mother's strange tone.
"What darkness, Mama?"
Her mother only kissed her forehead and said, "The one your brother won't survive."
Now, that darkness stood before her.
And Lyra burned with oathfire.
The Hollow Wolf roared, shaking the sky.
It leapt again, but this time, Lyra didn't move.
She raised her hand—and the beast froze midair, as if caught in an invisible snare.
"By the blood of the First Moon, I bind you," she intoned.
The glyphs on her skin blazed.
The Hollow Wolf writhed in the air, held by chains of silver fire that sprang from the very earth. It howled—not in rage, but in agony.
From within, Kael's voice screamed.
"No! You'll kill us both!"
Lyra's voice cracked. "Then fight it, Kael. Fight it, or I will end it."
Smoke and light erupted from the Hollow Wolf's chest.
For a moment, she saw him—Kael—half-formed in the light, his hand reaching through the ribcage of the beast, eyes pleading.
"Lyra… I didn't mean for this."
She ran forward, touching his hand. Their fingers connected—
And a memory surged between them.
They were children again.
Running through the forest.
Kael pulling her hand, shouting, "Come on! It's just a cave!"
She had been afraid. But he smiled and promised, "I'll always protect you."
And she believed him.
Back in the present, Lyra clenched her jaw.
"Then protect me now. Fight it. Take control."
The chains trembled.
The Hollow Wolf's form began to convulse, its massive limbs crashing against invisible walls. The runes along its body flickered, dimming.
Lyra poured her strength into the glyphs, shouting the final line of the ritual.
"By the oath of kin, I call you home!"
The world shattered in silence.
The world stopped breathing.
Silver chains still wrapped around the Hollow Wolf, its massive body suspended in midair. The glyphs along Lyra's arms pulsed erratically, responding to the internal war tearing Kael apart from within.
Then—like glass cracking under pressure—the beast shattered.
Not into pieces.
Into light.
A sphere of radiant silvery flame exploded outward, engulfing everything within the ruins of Ashwood Keep. But it didn't burn. It healed.
Scorched stone turned clean, blood evaporated, broken towers rebuilt themselves momentarily in a vision of the past—of what once was.
And there, within that halo of moonfire, stood two figures.
One, kneeling.
One, standing over him.
Lyra's knees nearly buckled as she took a step forward. Her strength waned fast, the glyphs fading as the ancient magic receded. But her gaze locked on the boy—no, the man—curled on the ground, shivering.
Kael.
No longer the Hollow Wolf.
His skin was marked by burns, his eyes dull and unfocused, lips trembling.
"Lyra…" he whispered. "I tried to hold it back. I failed. I failed you."
Lyra dropped beside him, cupping his face. "You didn't fail me. You came back."
He choked a sob. "But I killed them. I—"
"No," she said, firm. "It did. And now, it's over."
But it wasn't.
Not truly.
A rumble shook the air—low, deep, ancient.
From the ruins behind them, a fissure cracked open in the earth.
Dark vapor poured out.
And then came the voice. Not Kael's. Not human.
"You were warned, Vessel. You broke the seal before the final moon."
Lyra turned sharply. "No…"
The darkness congealed, forming a shadowy specter—a humanoid wolf formed entirely of smoke and void, eyes two empty galaxies.
The Devouring One.
It had not been fully banished. Only cast out of Kael.
And now, it was free.
Kael tried to stand, failed.
"We don't have the power to stop it again," he gasped.
Lyra clenched her fists. "No. But I might."
She walked forward.
Toward the Devouring One.
"Foolish child," the entity spoke. "You burn with the blood of the First. Do you not understand what you've done? The seal was never meant to bind forever. It was meant to choose."
Lyra froze.
"Choose what?"
The Devouring One extended a hand, claws like blades of smoke.
"A vessel. A successor. A new god."
The air turned cold.
Then—
From the edge of the battlefield, a howl.
A clear, commanding howl.
Not Lyra's.
Not Kael's.
But ancient.
A second figure emerged from the forest mist.
A woman in a midnight cloak, silver eyes glowing like stars, flanked by two spectral wolves.
The First Oathkeeper.
Lyra gasped. "You're—"
The woman nodded. "I am what remains of her. And I have waited for you, Moonborn."
To be continued in Chapter 36: The Trial of the Moonborn…