The air was different now, older, charged with a quiet weight that pressed into Lyra's bones. The farther they trekked into the Eastern Wyrmwood, the more time seemed to slow, as though the forest itself were holding its breath. Every step was muffled by moss-covered stone, and thick vines snaked along trees older than any map.
Kael moved beside her, his usual predator's stride tempered by the lingering pain of the poisoned wound on his side. He hadn't complained once, but the tautness of his jaw spoke louder than words. Every few minutes, Lyra would glance toward him, noting the slight hitch in his breath, the way he favored his right leg.
"We can stop," she said finally.
He shook his head. "No. Not until we're out of the open."
"You're bleeding again."
"Wolfsbane takes its time. I'll live."
Lyra narrowed her eyes at him, but said nothing. He was stubborn, had always been, but there was something else under his silence now. Guilt. Rage. Something he hadn't spoken of since Ronan's ambush.
The silence between them stretched, filled only by the occasional cry of a nightbird or the rustle of something unseen slithering through the underbrush.
Then, the ground began to change.
Cracked stones jutted out of the moss, arranged in a spiraling pattern that led deeper into the trees. Strange carvings emerged beneath their feet, symbols she recognized only from her mother's grimoire. Crescent moons wrapped in flame. Wolves crowned in stars. And the sigil of the Vale bloodline.
Lyra slowed, heart thudding. "We're close."
Kael stopped beside her, scanning the strange patterns. "This wasn't on the map."
"It wouldn't be." Her voice was quiet. "This place… it's older than any map."
They followed the trail in silence, each step heavy with expectation. The trees grew denser, their trunks so thick no light pierced the canopy. Then the forest opened into a sunless vale, wide and still and silent.
In its center stood a ruined temple.
It was carved from black stone, its surface weathered by centuries, vines clinging to its broken towers like nature trying to reclaim it. A massive crescent arch loomed above the entrance, its edges lined with obsidian flame motifs. The structure looked half-sunken into the earth, as if it had fought a losing battle with time, and still stood defiantly.
Kael let out a low whistle. "Well. This is subtle."
Lyra stepped forward, her fingers tingling. "The Temple of the Forsaken Flame. My mother spoke of it like a bedtime story. Said it was where the fire witches went to die."
Kael frowned. "You didn't think to mention that earlier?"
"I wasn't sure it was real until now."
They crossed the threshold, the temperature dipping sharply. The moment Lyra stepped inside, a low hum stirred in the air, magic, ancient and restless.
The main hall stretched into darkness, broken columns lining the sides like fallen sentinels. The walls were lined with murals, their colors faded but still visible beneath the dust and ivy. Lyra approached one, brushing away centuries of grime.
Painted in rich hues of silver, crimson, and gold was a woman with moonlit hair, her arms raised toward a burning sky. Around her, wolves knelt in reverence, or perhaps surrender. Behind her stood a figure cloaked in shadow, with crimson eyes and claws dipped in blood.
Kael's eyes narrowed. "That's me."
Lyra didn't answer. She was staring at the inscription carved below the mural.
"Born of fire and fang, cursed to reign or ruin. The crimson flame shall awaken the forgotten blood."
She stepped back, pulse racing. "This isn't just history. It's a prophecy."
"Your ancestor?" Kael asked.
She nodded slowly. "Seriah Vale. The first moon-blood to try and unite witches and wolves. My bloodline began with her. But the story ended in war."
As they moved deeper into the temple, more murals told fragments of the tale, of a great rebellion, of a forbidden bond between wolf and witch, and of fire that devoured cities. In the final mural, Seriah stood alone on a battlefield of ash, her eyes hollow, her power unraveling around her.
Lyra swallowed hard. "She tried to stop the curse. But she failed."
At the center of the temple, a circular altar rose from the floor, surrounded by a cracked rune-circle. As Lyra stepped inside it, the altar flared to life, golden fire bursting upward, dancing without heat.
Kael moved to shield her, but Lyra held up a hand.
"I think it's meant for me."
The flames swirled into outward, a double crescent wreathed in flame, with wings stretching outward.
Then, a pendant emerged from the fire, a stone talisman etched with that same symbol.
Drawn by something deep in her bones, Lyra reached out and touched it.
The world vanished.
---
The vision struck like a lightning storm.
Lyra saw a kingdom in ruin,castles aflame, rivers running red. Wolves battled witches beneath a bleeding moon. And at the heart of it, Kael stood alone, his body twisted by power, crimson eyes wild with grief.
He was screaming her name.
She saw herself, cloaked in fire, standing at the edge of a cliff, holding a blade that shimmered with moonlight. Power crackled through her veins, ancient and terrifying. Her heart ached, but her hand did not tremble.
She raised the blade,
And then everything shattered.
---
Lyra fell back with a scream.
Kael caught her before she hit the ground, arms tightening around her. "Lyra! Look at me!"
Her eyes fluttered open, dazed. "I saw it. The future. The past. I don't know"
"What did you see?"
She clutched the pendant, hand shaking. "You. Consumed by the curse. And I… forced to choose."
"Choose what?"
Her voice cracked. "To save you, or destroy everything else."
Kael's grip tightened. "You'd never"
"You don't know that!" she shouted, pushing away from him. "I felt it, Kael. The fire inside me… it was different. It was ancient. Seriah tried to stop it once. And I think I'm the only one who can finish what she started."
She stood, breath ragged. The pendant pulsed in her hand.
Kael looked at it warily. "What is that thing?"
"A key," she whispered. "To power. Or to ruin."
A sudden sound, stone scraping, echoed from deep within the temple.
Kael tensed, stepping in front of her. "We're not alone."
From the shadows at the far end of the hall, a figure emerged. Hooded, tall, radiating dark magic. His cloak bore the mark of the council, but darker, twisted.
Lyra's blood ran cold. "That's not just a hunter."
The man's voice was deep, amused. "No. I am a cleaver."
Kael's eyes narrowed. "A what?"
Lyra swallowed. "Council executioners. They were wiped out generations ago."
The man laughed. "Not wiped out. Buried. Like this temple."
With a flick of his wrist, black flame erupted from his palms. The temple shook.
Kael shifted partially, claws emerging. "Go. I'll hold him"
"No," Lyra said, stepping beside him. Her pendant glowed brighter, responding to the threat. "We do this together."
The cleaver snarled. "You should have stayed hidden, moon-born."
Lyra raised her hand. "And you should have stayed dead."
---
The battle was chaotic.
The cleaver moved like a shadow, his flames lashing out in twisted arcs. Kael met him head-on, fury in every strike, his form flickering between man and beast. Lyra fought beside him, the pendant amplifying her spells, weaving silver fire into living shields and spears of light.
But the cleaver was ancient, more magic than man. He moved with deadly precision, anticipating their strikes, whispering in a forgotten tongue that made the very air crack.
Kael caught a blow to the ribs that sent him crashing into a column.
Lyra screamed and unleashed everything.
The flames of the pendant surged. A ring of moonfire exploded around her, slamming into the cleaver and driving him back. Her eyes glowed gold, her voice rising in Seriah's tongue.
"Lunaris, forsaken flame,bind and break!"
Chains of fire wrapped around the cleaver, anchoring him to the stone. He struggled, but the magic of the temple responded to Lyra's blood, locking him in place.
She stepped forward, raising her palm.
"You won't touch him," she said.
The cleaver smiled. "You think this ends me? I am just the first."
"Then you'll be the first to fall."
She released the spell. The fire consumed him, leaving only scorched stone.
---
Silence returned, broken only by Kael's ragged breath. Lyra ran to him, helping him sit.
"You're bleeding again," she said, voice trembling.
"You always say that," he murmured.
She laughed, despite the tears in her eyes.
The pendant floated gently in her palm, warm and alive.
Kael stared at it. "You're not just a witch."
"No," she said. "I'm Vale. And that means I have a choice to make."
He reached for her hand. "Whatever it is… you won't face it alone."
She looked into his eyes, crimson, yes, but steady. Humans. Real.
"No," she said softly. "We'll face it together."
Outside, the wind howled through the broken temple.
Above them, the first sliver of moonlight pierced the clouds, silver and full.
And deep within the earth, something ancient stirred.