Morning came without warmth.
A pale sun hovered behind thin clouds as the group broke camp. The fire's ashes were scattered carefully, no trace left behind. The Borderlands did not forgive carelessness, and everyone felt it—even Sylas, whose usual confidence had sharpened into something more alert.
Lyra walked at the front now.
Not because anyone said she should.
It simply happened.
The path toward Aethryn revealed itself slowly, winding through broken roads swallowed by weeds and stone markers worn smooth by time. Every step closer made the Mark stir faintly, not in warning, but in recognition.
"This road was royal once," Eldrin said quietly. "Only those bound to Eldoria could walk it freely."
Lyra glanced down. The cracked stones beneath her feet shimmered for a heartbeat, then settled.
Selene whistled under her breath. "So the land really does bow."
Lyra didn't answer. The idea unsettled her more than it thrilled her.
By midday, the ruins appeared.
Aethryn rose from the earth like a half-remembered dream—tall arches collapsed inward, towers broken but proud, and walls etched with symbols faded yet unbroken. Ivy and moss wrapped around stone like nature's attempt to heal a wound that never truly closed.
Kael stopped at the edge. "There's magic here. Old. Patient."
Sylas crouched, fingers brushing the ground. "And recent footsteps."
Adrian's gaze hardened. "We're not alone."
They entered cautiously.
The city's center opened into a vast circular plaza, once the heart of governance. Stone seats formed tiers around a raised platform. Above it, a fractured spire leaned skyward, cracked down its center.
Lyra stepped forward.
The Mark ignited.
Light rippled outward, flowing through the stone like breath returning to sleeping lungs. The ruins responded—faint glows tracing ancient carvings, broken columns straightening just enough to stand taller.
Selene's voice was barely a whisper. "She didn't activate the city."
"She woke it," Eldrin corrected.
A sound echoed then.
Slow. Deliberate.
Applause.
Figures emerged from the shadows lining the plaza—armed, cloaked, confident. At their center stood a woman clad in dark silver armor, her expression calm and calculating.
"I wondered when the heir would stop hiding," she said.
Lyra felt the weight of every eye.
"Who are you?" Adrian demanded.
The woman inclined her head slightly. "Commander Veyra. Protector of the Eastern Marches."
Eldrin stiffened. "Those titles no longer exist."
"They do now," Veyra replied smoothly. "Someone had to keep order while legends slept."
Her gaze settled on Lyra. "You're younger than I imagined."
Lyra held her ground. "And you're standing in a city that answers to me."
Veyra smiled. "Does it?"
She raised her hand.
The glow faltered.
The plaza dimmed, as if confused.
Kael cursed softly. "She's bound herself to the ruins."
"Not bound," Veyra corrected. "Negotiated."
Sylas chuckled darkly. "That never ends well."
Veyra ignored him. "Eldoria doesn't need another symbol. It needs control. Stability. Fear keeps people in line."
Lyra felt anger rise—but she steadied it.
"You're using the past to chain the present," she said. "That's not protection."
Veyra stepped closer. "And you think hope is stronger?"
"Yes."
The Mark flared again, brighter this time.
The city chose.
Light surged, reclaiming the plaza. Veyra staggered back, shock flashing across her face.
"This place remembers who bled for it," Eldrin said. "And who betrayed it."
Veyra's composure cracked. "You don't understand what's coming."
Lyra met her gaze. "Then help me stop it."
Silence fell.
For a heartbeat, Veyra hesitated.
Then she turned away sharply. "When the darkness comes for you, don't expect mercy."
She signaled her forces. They withdrew swiftly, melting into the ruins.
The glow softened.
Lyra exhaled slowly, legs trembling.
Adrian caught her before she fell. "You did that."
"No," she said, looking around at the awakening city. "We did."
Eldrin smiled faintly. "Aethryn has recognized its heir."
Kael frowned. "And painted a target on her back."
From the spire above, a crack widened.
Far beyond the city, something ancient felt the shift.
And this time, it did not wait.