POV: Kairo
The barrier broke without warning.
One second, it was solid—hot, unforgiving magic.
The next, it crumbled into mist.
I didn't wait.
I ran straight into the clearing beyond, heart racing, pulse in my throat, prepared for fire or destruction or gods forbid—her body.
But I found none of those things.
Instead, I found her.
Lyra.
Standing in the center of the clearing, eyes closed, her cloak whispering in the breeze.
Flames danced gently across her fingertips, flickering like obedient pets.
She didn't turn to me.
She didn't flinch.
And that terrified me more than anything.
"Lyra…" I said, slow, careful.
She opened her eyes.
They were gold.
Not specks of gold.
Not ringed or glowing.
Completely golden.
Like fire had taken up residence inside her and burned out anything soft.
"I'm fine," she said calmly.
No. Not calmly.
Detached.
"Tell me what happened," I said, stepping closer. "I felt your bond spike."
"It wasn't just the bond," she said. "It was me."
"What do you mean?"
"I remembered." She tilted her head slowly. "Not everything. Just… enough."
My jaw tightened. "The ruins showed you?"
"They didn't show me," she corrected. "They reminded me."
Of what?
Of who she was?
Of who she used to be?
I stepped forward again. "Are you—"
"I'm still me," she said. "But I'm also… her."
Emberlyn.
I felt it.
Not possession. Not confusion.
Coexistence.
And that scared me even more.
"Lyra, we need to leave. The pack—"
"I'm not ready to go back," she interrupted.
"But you can't stay here alone."
She looked at me, then.
For real.
And her voice dropped.
"I'm not alone."
A cold breeze swept through the clearing.
I reached for her — not to restrain, but to hold — and the moment my fingers grazed hers…
The fire leapt.
Not out of anger.
Out of recognition.
My wolf recoiled.
And for the first time since I met her, I had a thought I couldn't un-think:
> What if she doesn't need saving?
> What if she's what we need saving from?