When they'd eaten their fill and the garden had grown golden with late morning light, Thornak kissed her temple and helped her to her feet. Reluctantly, they left the quiet magic of the morning behind and returned to his chambers. The softness in his touch remained as they dressed side by side, each lingering brush of his hand a silent promise.
Lara stood before the mirror adjusting the silver clasp at her shoulder when she heard him behind her.
"Today will be a busy one," Thornak said, his voice calm. "But I'll be with you through it."
She turned to meet his gaze.
He stepped closer, fastening the last tie of his tunic. "We're meeting with Ninzu. She's expecting us at the Temple before midday."
With that, he offered her his arm and together, they left the chamber, the door closing softly behind them.
The stone hallway echoed with hurried footsteps and the scent of warm bread from the lower kitchens. Aedric rounded the corner and nearly collided with Helen, Lara's mother, who was talking to Mira.
"Tell the cooks to use sweetroot and sage in the broth," Helen instructed, breathless. "She hasn't eaten it in a while, but she always loved..."
"My prince," Mira gasped, spotting him. Both she and Helen curtsied immediately.
Aedric nodded.
He glanced at Mira, then said, "Would you excuse us for a moment?"
Mira quickly hurried off. Helen stayed rooted, clearly surprised.
"My prince?" she asked, smoothing her apron.
"I wanted to ask you something." Aedric's voice was low, almost careful. "Is Liam your real son?"
Helen froze, just slightly, then recovered with the poise of a woman who had been keeping difficult truths under her tongue for years.
"Why do you ask?" she said, her voice cautious.
"Idle curiosity," Aedric replied, though his eyes betrayed deeper intent.
Helen exhaled slowly. "No… not by birth."
Aedric frowned slightly. "Then whose child is he?"
"His mother was raised by us, my husband and me. She was Moonguard like us but not a royal. Her parents were killed during the wars. We took her when we escaped and loved her as our own. She was strong-willed but sweet-hearted… and she fell in love."
"With whom?"
Helen shook her head. "She never said. Only that he left her. She was young, but determined to keep the child."
Aedric's brows knit together. "And what was her name?"
Helen's voice barely rose above a whisper. "Her name was Araya."
Aedric took a step back as if the name had struck him across the chest. His breath caught. Araya.
The corridor suddenly felt too narrow, the air too thick. His head spun with the weight of memory, the sound of that name echoing like thunder in his ears. His jaw clenched, eyes darkening with disbelief as the realization dawned on him. Liam was his son.
Helen noticed the change in his expression, the way his shoulders stiffened, the flicker of something unspoken in his eyes.
"Araya," he said again, almost under his breath.
Then, without another word, Aedric turned. His boots struck the stone floor in hurried rhythm as he walked away, tension rippling through every line of his body.
Helen stood frozen, watching him disappear down the corridor. Her heart thudded uneasily.
Behind her, Mira quietly returned, glancing after the prince. "Is something wrong, my lady?"
Helen shook her head slowly, though her mind was anything but settled.
"I don't know." She murmured.
As Aedric strode through the castle halls, his mind reeled.
Araya.
The name pulsed behind his eyes like a drumbeat, relentless and sharp. He barely registered his surroundings, not until he turned a corner and saw Thornak with Lara approaching. Flanked by Dorian and two of the king's guards, the pair were walking calmly toward him. Thornak's hand rested lightly against Lara's lower back. Protective, he thought, and then, without warning, she stopped.
Lara dropped to her knees with a strangled cry, clutching her head as if trying to hold it together.
"Aaagh!" she screamed. "No, no, get it out... GET IT OUT!"
"Lara!" Thornak crouched beside her, alarm etched deep into his features. He touched her shoulders, then tried to lift her face. "What is it? What's happening?"
Aedric was already running to them, all hesitation forgotten. His princely mask cracked into pure concern.
"What's wrong with her?" he demanded.
"I don't know!" Thornak growled, trying to keep Lara upright as she thrashed against the pain.
"It's in my head," Lara sobbed, her eyes wide but unfocused, pupils blown.
"What is?" Thornak barked, voice tight with fear. "Lara, what"
Her body jerked once more, and suddenly her wolf surged beneath her skin, a flicker of silver light dancing across her arms. Dorian reached for her but Thornak held up a hand, shielding her protectively.
Aedric took a slow step back, blood draining from his face.
Behind him, the guards faltered, eyes wide in horror. Dorian stepped forward, ready to shift, but what could he fight? The torches flickered, and from the shadows stepped Ninzu, cloaked in silver-threaded robes, her eyes alight with ethereal flame.
"Let her go, Your Majesty!" she commanded, her voice a sharp blade. "She's under attack. A Bloodwraith is trying to take her!"
"A what?" Thornak asked as he let go of her.
"A Bloodwraith," Ninzu repeated as she knelt down, beside her and pulled a small obsidian vial from her satchel. The liquid inside pulsed crimson-black, like living shadow. She uncorked the vial with a snap and poured the contents over Lara's forehead.
The moment the liquid touched her skin, Lara arched, her back bending like a bow, eyes rolled white, teeth clenched.
Then a voice not hers echoed from her mouth: "She is mine!"
The torches went out. The moon above vanished behind clouds.
A cold wind blasted across the courtyard. But then from within Lara, a howl from Nymeria rose.
The Moonfire surged, burning through her veins like a second sunrise.
Lara's head snapped back, her mouth opened wide in a final scream and a surge of blinding silver light burst from her body.
The darkness recoiled.
A black smoke, shaped like a long-limbed creature with burning eyes, screeched as it was driven out clawing at the air, fleeing toward the trees.
Then silence.
Lara collapsed into Thornak's arms, panting, skin glistening with sweat. Her eyes fluttered open. Ninzu exhaled and rose.
The chamber beneath the castle was cold and dim, lit only by the dull gleam of moonstones embedded in the walls. Shadows clung to every corner like waiting beasts. The air smelled of ash amd burnt herbs.
Eira snarled from where she was bound, thick iron cuffs glowing faintly with runes etched deep into their surface. Her eyes, once sharp with loyalty, were now rimmed in black, flickering with hunger. Saliva dripped from her mouth as she lunged against the restraints, the chains groaning under the strain.
Lara stood at the edge of the salt-ring drawn into the floor, her face pale but steady. Her hands were clenched, nails biting into her palms.
Thornak stood close behind her, silent but tense, his golden eyes never leaving Eira. The madness in her gaze unsettled even him.
Across the chamber, Aedric leaned against a stone pillar. His arms were crossed, his expression unreadable. He'd come only to escape the weight pressing down on his own soul, but now he found himself unable to look away.
Ninzu and Maelor's old seer, an ageless woman with white lashes and skin marked with crescent scars, knelt beside a low stone altar, whispering in a forgotten tongue. Between them, the ritual tools had been laid out: a shallow bronze bowl, a moonwater vial, a curved blade of black glass, and the shadowbinding salve—thick and dark, glowing faintly with threads of silver.
"She's barely holding together," the seer said, voice like wind through bone. "Another moon, and the blood magic will consume what's left of her soul."
"We will not give it another moon," Ninzu replied. She turned to Lara. "You're ready?"
Lara nodded. Her voice was low, but sure. "Tell me what to do."
The seer motioned for her to kneel beside Eira, just outside the salt ring. Ninzu handed her a narrow brush carved from bone.
"You will mark her with the salve—heart, spine, and brow. It must be done with your hand. The Moonfire won't answer anyone else."
Lara took the brush. Its handle trembled in her grasp. Slowly, she stepped forward. Eira snarled and snapped, her face a twisted mask of rage. Thornak's growl rumbled low in his chest, but Ninzu lifted a hand.
"She cannot touch her. The chains hold."
Kneeling by Eira's side, Lara dipped the brush into the salve and gently brushed a line over Eira's brow. The skin hissed as the black mixture touched it, and Eira screamed, not in pain, but fury.
The salve shimmered, and at once the corruption beneath Eira's skin surged. Black veins pulsed to life like writhing serpents, crawling up her neck, down her arms, glowing with eerie heat.
"Stand back," the seer said. "It's time."
The Moonseers joined hands and looked at Lara.
"Call the Moonfire," Ninzu said.
They began to chant, their voices quiet but strong, filling the room with a strange rhythm.
Lara stepped forward. She closed her eyes and raised her hands. Words in an old, forgotten language came from her mouth, soft at first, then louder. At the end, she spoke one final word: "Lyra'thae."
The air grew thick and still. The salt ring around the altar lit up, glowing bright silver.
Then, in the center of the altar, a flame appeared. It wasn't red or gold. It was blue-white. It gave off no smoke or heat, but everyone could feel its power. Lara let out a sharp breath as the flame moved and floated toward Eira.
The flame brushed the salve-marked point first. Eira's body arched violently. Her screams turned to guttural growls, then to silence. She thrashed once, twice then went still, as the Moonfire wound through her like smoke through a dying forest, finding the roots of the dark magic and tearing them out.
A long moment passed. The flame dimmed and Eira collapsed against her chains, unconscious.
Lara stepped forward, trembling. "Is she…?"
Ninzu knelt and pressed fingers to Eira's throat. "She lives."
The seer's voice was weary, but satisfied. "The Severance held."
From his place in the shadows, Aedric closed his eyes. For a moment, he saw not Eira, but Araya. He wondered for the first time in years where she was.