Bloodline and Throne
The fires still burned in the outer courtyards.
Ash clung to the battlements like snow. Smoke coiled through broken windows and cracked stone. Blackthorn Hold had survived—but only barely.
And so had she.
Lyra stood atop the eastern tower, her cloak torn, skin streaked with soot and blood. The wind tangled her hair, and her eyes—those twilight mirrors of prophecy—looked down at the remnants of a kingdom.
They had fought beside her.
Cassian, with his blade and guilt.
Kade, with his loyalty and fire.
But now came the harder battle.
What came after.
Inside the war chamber, the survivors gathered.
Three council seats remained filled. Two were scorched empty.
Elder Sevra stood calmly, her expression unreadable as she surveyed the ruined map of the realm. "Without Thandrel and the others, we are no longer bound to their decrees."
A murmur of agreement followed. Some relief. Some fear.
"We can elect new rule," said another. "Restore order."
Kade's voice cut through. "No."
All heads turned.
Kade stepped forward, his gaze unwavering. "There is no restoring what was. That order let the Hollow Ones in. It condemned a child before she was even born."
Cassian stepped up beside him. "We need more than titles and bloodlines now. We need truth. And unity."
All eyes shifted to Lyra.
Who hadn't spoken yet.
Not until now.
She let the silence stretch a moment longer.
Then:
"I didn't come here to rule," she said. "I came for justice."
"Then take it," Kade said quietly. "You earned more than vengeance."
Sevra tilted her head. "What is it you truly want, Lyra Ashbane?"
The question hung heavy.
And then Lyra said the one thing none of them expected.
"I want my daughter safe."
The room shifted.
Everyone had heard the prophecy.
But only a few had truly believed it.
Now the truth had shape. Breath. Blood.
A living heir.
"A child born of two kings," whispered Sevra. "And a cursed mother of three bloods…"
"She's more than that," Lyra said. "She's the key. And they're still hunting her."
Sevra frowned. "The Hollow Ones?"
"No," Cassian said darkly. "The ones who enabled them. Hidden families. Ancient blood debts. The rot beneath our throne."
Kade nodded. "We protect the girl. But we root out the rest. Every traitor. Every House that fed the Hollow Ones from the shadows."
A soft knock at the door.
A scout entered, bowed low, and whispered urgently to Sevra.
The elder's eyes widened. "A girl has crossed the outer wardline. Alone. She wears a stone with the Ashbane seal."
Lyra's heart stopped.
No.
It couldn't be.
She was too far. Too hidden. Too protected.
But the moment the scout unrolled the small parchment the girl carried—sealed in blood and flame—Lyra's knees nearly gave out.
Because the letter was written in her daughter's hand.
"They found me. I had to run. I followed the stars you taught me, Mama. I'm close. Please don't be mad."
Kade caught Lyra before she could fall.
Cassian took the letter from Sevra, his throat tight. "She came here. Alone."
"She's more powerful than any of us imagined," Lyra whispered.
"And more vulnerable than ever," Kade growled. "If the Hollow Ones followed her—"
"Then they're already here," Sevra finished.
Outside the Hold, at the edge of the moonlit woods, a small figure stood cloaked in shadow.
She had her mother's eyes.
And she was humming to herself—a tune no one had taught her.
Behind her, the trees trembled.
And something not quite alive whispered her name.
Lyra paced the marble floor of the high tower chamber, heart pounding like a drum of war.
Her daughter was near.
Closer than she'd been in years.
And yet…
The air outside had changed.
Something dark moved with the wind. Not the Hollow Ones themselves—no, this was subtler. Sharper. Like breath drawn between fangs.
"She's not alone," Lyra said.
Kade nodded grimly. "I can send a squad—"
"No," she snapped, too fast. Then gentler: "If they see soldiers, she'll think it's a trap."
Cassian, arms crossed, studied the letter again. "She followed your starlight cipher. That means she still trusts you."
"She's only twelve," Lyra murmured. "But they'll hunt her like she's a weapon."
"She is a weapon," said Sevra from the archway, "and a shield. All in one. The old texts called her bloodline the Veilborn—a bridge between what was cursed and what was promised. If the Hollow Ones truly sensed her awakening…"
"They'll never stop coming," Cassian finished.
Outside the gates of Blackthorn Hold, the child stood barefoot on moss and stone, one hand clutching the silver chain at her throat—the talisman Lyra left with her at birth.
It pulsed now, warm against her skin.
Something in the wind called to her.
Or warned her.
"Mira said you were born of three bloods," the trees whispered. "But we know the truth…"
The girl turned sharply.
There was no one there.
But the Hollow Ones didn't always show themselves.
Sometimes, they only sank into you. Whispered. Waited.
"Open the gate," they coaxed. "Let us in, little moon. Let us come home…"
Inside the tower, Lyra jolted.
A flare of magic burned across her senses—sharp and unnatural.
Cassian felt it too. "What was that?"
Lyra closed her eyes. Reached out with her bond. Her blood.
And gasped.
"She's being tempted. They're trying to use her power to breach the outer wall."
Kade's eyes flared gold. "Tell me what to do."
"Come with me," she said. "But not as kings. As wolves."
They descended the spiral stairs and burst into the main courtyard, their power sending a shudder through the air. Guards backed away. The twin kings barely paused.
Lyra didn't walk.
She ran.
Through the main gate.
Across the stone bridge.
To the edge of the mist-wrapped woods where her daughter stood—
Alone.
Small.
Radiant.
And surrounded by flickering shadows.
The girl turned as they approached, wide-eyed.
"Mama?"
Lyra fell to her knees.
"My heart," she whispered, arms wrapping tightly around the girl's trembling frame. "You found me."
But behind her, the mists began to shift.
And from the tree line, a voice—ancient and cold as the grave—rose.
"You think hiding behind stone and name will save her? We remember the curse. We wrote it."
Kade and Cassian stepped forward, power rippling from them like heat.
"Touch her," Cassian growled, "and we burn your forest to salt."
The Hollow Ones didn't step out.
They never needed to.
But they answered.
In blood.
A single body dropped from the trees—one of Lyra's hidden sentinels. Eyes wide. Neck broken.
Just a message.
Just a start.
Lyra stood, pulling her daughter behind her.
No more hiding.
No more pretending.
"You wanted the Veilborn?" she shouted into the mist. "You came for her blood?"
She stepped forward, magic already rising from her skin.
"Then you can have mine first."
The shadows paused.
Then hissed—
And vanished.
Retreating, for now.
But the warning was clear:
They'd be back.
Back inside Blackthorn Hold, Lyra wrapped her daughter in furs by the fire, cradling her as though nothing else existed.
Kade stood at the hearth, watchful.
Cassian paced.
And the girl looked between them.
"Are you my fathers?"
Silence.
Then Cassian nodded once. "Yes."
Kade stepped forward, kneeling beside her. "And we're never letting you go again."
The girl smiled—slowly, warily.
Then whispered a single name:
"My name is Nyra."