lyra's POV
"Please don't let him find me."
The woman's voice broke as she clutched Lyra's hand. Blood dripped from fresh claw marks across her neck—marks that matched the twisted dragon bond-symbol burned into her skin.
Lyra pulled her hand away and stepped back. Her underground workshop felt smaller suddenly, the stone walls pressing in. Twenty candles flickered around the ritual circle carved into the floor, casting dancing shadows that made the woman's terrified face look ghostly.
"Show me the bond-mark," Lyra said quietly.
The woman tugged down her sleeve. The dragon symbol glowed sick green against her arm, pulsing like an infected wound. Black veins spread from it, crawling toward her heart.
Lyra's stomach twisted. She'd seen corrupted bonds before, but never this bad.
"He beats you?" Lyra asked, though she already knew the answer.
"Every day." The woman's voice shook. "He says the bond gives him the right. Says I belong to him forever. But I can't—I can't do this anymore. I'd rather die than spend another night as his property."
Lyra closed her eyes. Three years ago, she'd felt exactly the same way.
"What's your name?" she asked.
"Elara. My bond-mate is Lord Tyrek Blackscale. Minor nobility, but powerful enough that no one will help me. The Council says bonds are sacred. Unbreakable." Elara's eyes filled with desperate hope. "But you broke yours. Everyone whispers about the Scarlet Veil—the woman who did the impossible."
Lyra's hand drifted to her chest, where silver scars hid beneath her crimson wraps. The scars from severing her own bond still ached on cold nights.
"Bond-breaking nearly killed me," Lyra said. "You understand that? The ritual tears your soul apart. The pain is—" She stopped, remembering agony so complete she'd screamed until her voice died. "It's worse than death."
"I don't care." Elara crawled forward. "Please. He said he'll bond our daughter next. She's only five years old. I can't let him do to her what he's done to me."
Something fierce and hot exploded in Lyra's chest. A five-year-old girl. Just a baby.
"Get in the circle," Lyra said.
Elara gasped. "You'll help me?"
"Get in the circle before I change my mind."
Elara scrambled to her feet and stepped into the carved ritual space. Lyra moved around the workshop, gathering supplies. Obsidian dust from the Forbidden Chasm—the only substance that could cut magical bonds. Silver thread blessed under a new moon. Dragon's blood ink for the counter-symbols.
Her hands worked quickly, mixing ingredients she'd memorized years ago. The same ritual that had freed her from Prince Daevan Ashenclaw.
Don't think about him, she ordered herself. Not now.
But her fingers trembled anyway as she painted symbols around Elara's bond-mark.
"This will hurt," Lyra warned. "When I start the severance, you'll feel like your soul is being ripped in half. You have to stay still no matter what. If you break the circle, the magic will backlash and kill us both."
"I understand."
"Good." Lyra knelt at the circle's edge and placed both hands on the obsidian dust. She closed her eyes and reached for the bond-magic she'd learned through blood and suffering.
The power came reluctantly, like old wounds reopening. Lyra pushed harder, forcing magic into the ritual circle. The candles flared bright green.
Elara gasped as the severance began.
"Breathe," Lyra commanded. "Focus on me. Picture your bond as a chain. We're breaking it link by link."
She felt Elara's bond-connection like a rope of thorns wrapped around the woman's soul. On the other end was Lord Tyrek—his presence dark and angry even from a distance. The bond pulsed with his ownership, his control, his violence.
Lyra gritted her teeth and yanked at the first thread.
Elara screamed.
"Stay still!" Lyra shouted. "Don't break the circle!"
She pulled harder, unraveling the bond piece by piece. Each thread she severed made Elara convulse with pain, but the woman stayed inside the circle. Brave. Stronger than she looked.
The bond-mark on Elara's arm began to crack. Black veins withered. The sick green glow flickered.
Almost there.
Lyra gathered her power for the final cut—the one that would sever the bond completely. She raised both hands, magic crackling between her fingers.
BANG!
The workshop door exploded inward.
Lyra's head snapped up. Three guards in Council armor poured through the doorway, swords drawn. Behind them stood a figure in official robes—a Council Enforcer.
"The Scarlet Veil," the Enforcer said coldly. "You're under arrest for illegal bond-tampering."
No. Not now. Not when she was so close.
"The ritual isn't finished!" Lyra shouted. "If I stop now, the backlash will kill her!"
"Then she dies as a lesson to others." The Enforcer gestured to his guards. "Seize them both."
The guards charged forward.
Lyra looked at Elara, still kneeling in the circle. The half-severed bond writhed like a dying snake around her soul. If Lyra ran now, abandoned the ritual, Elara would suffer agony worse than death as the broken bond tried to reattach itself. The corruption would spread to her heart within hours.
But if Lyra stayed to finish the severance, the guards would capture her. They'd drag her to the Council Sanctum. Grand Matriarch Veyra would execute her publicly as a warning to anyone else who dared question the sacred bond-system.
Three years of hiding, gone.
Three years of building her underground network, destroyed.
But a five-year-old girl would be safe from forced bonding.
Lyra met Elara's terrified eyes.
Then she slammed her hands down and released every bit of magic she had left.
"BREAK!"
The bond-mark on Elara's arm shattered like glass. The woman collapsed, gasping. Free.
The magical backlash hit Lyra like a hammer. She flew backward, crashing into her workbench. Pain exploded across her ribs. The silver scars on her chest burned as if her old bond was tearing open again.
Through blurred vision, she saw the guards surrounding her. One grabbed her arm and yanked her to her feet. Her head spun. Blood ran warm from her nose.
The Enforcer stepped closer, studying her face.
"Remove her hood," he ordered.
No. If they saw her face, if anyone recognized her as Prince Daevan's former bond-mate—
A guard ripped the crimson silk away from Lyra's head.
The Enforcer's eyes widened. "You."
Lyra's heart stopped.
He knew who she was.