Where moonlight didn't reach, a figure stepped forward—broad-shouldered, silent as shadow. His eyes caught the faint glow of the lantern, sharp and unreadable.
Thorne.
Selene's heart lurched into her throat. He had been there all along, watching.
"Curiosity is a dangerous habit, Lyra," he said, voice low and edged.
Her hands clasped the half-burned journal she had found tighter. For a moment, she thought of hiding it behind her, but his eyes cautioned that he had already seen too much.
I wasn't.." she began, but the lie was stifled on her lips.
Thorne took a step closer. He was not angry, not exactly—just calculating, as if every movement she made was being measured and weighed and stored away for future reference.
"You train poorly, fight worse, and yet…" His eyes flicked to the journal in her hands. "…you search where no one should. Tell me, what are you hoping to find?"
Selene swallowed hard and thought that each word she spoke might shatter her fragile facade. She said, "I don't have to explain myself to you."
A faint grin brushed his lips. "Then don't, but do keep in mind…Kael isn't the only one watching you."
With that, he walked away and left her to the heavy silence of Lyra's room.
Selene clutched the journal against her heart, her own heart racing. Thorne remained silent regarding her subterfuge, at least for now. But his words carried a warning: her time was running out.
-------
The next morning, the training grounds were brutal.
Selene stood in the circle of dirt, bruises from yesterday still fresh and the weight of Thorne's warning still heavy in her chest. Across from her, Kael's golden eyes burned like fire in the cold daylight.
"Again," he commanded.
Her arms ached from blocking blow after blow. Her wooden staff trembled in her grip as sweat streamed into her eyes. She barely kept up the parry before stumbling back. The watching warriors murmured, some of them laughing, others doubting.
Kael didn't give her a chance to breathe. He advanced, pressing her harder, his strikes fast and merciless. It wasn't just training—it was an interrogation in practice. Every crash of wood on wood appeared to hold the unspoken question: Who are you really?
She staggered, banging on the ground with a grunt. Dust clung to her hands as she fought to sit up.
Kael's voice cut like a blade, "The Lyra I remember never begged for rest. She fought until her opponent bled."
Selene froze with her chest heaving. His words pierced deeper than the blows, "The Lyra I remember…" He was comparing her, testing her, seeing cracks in the mask she wore.
"I'm not her," the thought almost slipped out, but she bit it back, forcing herself to lift the staff again.
Kael's expression hardened. "Then prove me wrong."
The staff cracked against hers again with the force numbing her arms. The circle of warriors leaned in closer, whispers threading through the air. They were watching not just a spar—but a judgment.
Selene's anger flared through her exhaustion. He wanted her to be Lyra—cold, merciless, unbreakable. But she wasn't and she never would be.
Her next strike came from that fire inside her, raw and desperate. It caught him off guard—not with strength, but with spirit. For a brief second, Kael's eyes widened, and then, almost too quickly, the cold mask slipped back into place.
"Enough." His voice was flat and unreadable.
Selene lowered her staff, chest rising and falling. Kael turned away from her, addressing the warriors instead.
"Dismissed."
The crowd dispersed, leaving Selene standing alone in the circle. Kael hadn't praised her, hadn't condemned her—just left her with silence colder than any blow.
And for the first time, Selene disliked not only the lying she had to endure, but the man responsible for making her ache because of it.
Selene left the training fields with her body aching, but pride was what burned strongest. Kael hadn't even looked at her once he'd dismissed the warriors. No nod, no smile—just that same anguished suspicion behind his cold eyes.
-------
As she entered her room, her hands were still trembling. She sat on the edge of the bed, her head in a daze.
How much longer can I keep this up?
She recalled Thorne's warning, Kael's relentless questioning, and the journal beneath her pillow—the pages half-smoked and hinting at secrets as yet unknown. With every day, the deception hung around her neck like weights.
There was a knock at the door that made her startled. The door opened before she could get to it and Kael entered.
Her breath caught.
He closed the door behind him, his presence filling the room like a shadow of thunder. "With every step you take, you demonstrate to me that you're not my Lyra," he said to her, his tone low, unreadable.
Selene gripped the blanket, her eyes held tight. "Is that...a bad thing?
Kael looked at her with intensity that brought goosebumps to her flesh. His eyes were not simply looking at her...they were trying to dismantle her, layer by layer.
Selene sat rigidly on the bed while Kael's shadow dominated the room. His gaze never wavered, burning with fire that made breathing hard.
The Lyra I knew," he said coldly, his tone colder than steel, "would rather see an omega beg than offer them a hand". But you…" He tilted his head slightly, eyes narrowing. "You act like a stranger wearing her face."
Her mouth went dry, "maybe being gone… changed me."
Kael stepped closer, so near the air between them seemed to vibrate. The softness in his eyes vanished, replaced by something sharp, dangerous.
"No," he said, voice a low growl. "People don't change this much, not without reason. And if you're lying to me, if you're playing some game…" His lips curled into the faintest snarl. "…Then I will pry it out—slowly."
Selene's blood ran cold. Her body screamed to flee, to run, but she was not able—not under the power of his stare.
Kael held a second longer, then turned and went away, slamming the door shut behind him like a final warning.
Silence filled the room and Selene's hands shook as she gripped the blanket, her heart beating so hard it hurt.
He no longer just suspects me, she thought. He's hunting me.