Chapter 19: Shadows of Betrayal

The chamber pulsed with raw energy, ancient and unrelenting. Shira staggered forward, still reeling from the visions the Dragonlord's blade had shown her. Her breath came in ragged gasps, sweat beading on her forehead as the whispers of forgotten gods echoed in her skull.

Elias reached for her shoulder. "Shira, are you alright?"

"I saw him," she murmured, gripping the blade tighter. "Darkwind… before he was what he is now. He wasn't always a monster."

Elias frowned but said nothing. The weight of her words settled between them like a storm waiting to break.

A chilling laugh echoed through the temple. Shira's body tensed as the air thickened with shadow. From the darkness, a figure stepped forward—Lyra. But the woman before them was not the friend she had once been. Her emerald eyes were now pools of endless void, her very presence distorted like a mirage.

"Still chasing ghosts, Shira?" Lyra's voice was sickly sweet, mocking. "The past doesn't matter. Only power does."

Shira's heart pounded, anger curling in her gut. "You're wrong."

Lyra tilted her head, amused. "Am I? Then tell me—why do you tremble? Because deep down, you know what you're becoming." She took a step closer. "You felt it, didn't you? The power when you burned Darin. How easy it was."

Shira's grip tightened on the hilt of her sword. "Don't speak his name."

Lyra laughed, raising her hand. Shadows exploded outward, twisting into monstrous tendrils that surged toward them. Elias was the first to react, his blade flashing as he severed one of the tendrils mid-air. But the darkness was endless, writhing and reforming.

Shira lifted her free hand, golden fire bursting to life in her palm. The temple walls shook as she unleashed a wave of dragonflame, consuming the encroaching shadows. The fire's brilliance illuminated Lyra's face, but she remained unfazed.

"You're still holding back," Lyra sneered. "Why? Afraid of what you might become?"

Shira's wings flared behind her, their golden light casting long shadows. The air grew hotter, crackling with raw energy. "I know what I am."

Lyra smirked. "Then prove it."

She lunged, darkness coiling around her arm like a blade. Shira met her strike with the Dragonlord's sword, the clash of their powers sending shockwaves through the temple. The floor cracked beneath them as fire and shadow clashed, spiraling into chaos.

Elias fought beside her, but the battle was anything but even. Lyra moved with unnatural speed, her strikes precise and relentless. The shadows around her thickened, forming an impenetrable barrier whenever she was about to be struck.

Shira's blood boiled, frustration mounting. Every time she gained the upper hand, Lyra twisted the battlefield in her favor. The darkness was endless, but Shira could feel something within her responding—something ancient and dangerous.

A deep voice rumbled through her mind.

You are not ready.

The words sent a jolt through her, but she had no time to question them. Lyra's blade of shadow slashed forward, and Shira barely managed to block. The force of the strike sent her skidding backward, her boots digging into the stone floor.

Lyra grinned, eyes gleaming. "Still fighting it?"

Shira clenched her teeth. The power inside her was waiting, stirring, desperate to be released. But she remembered Darin's screams. The way the fire had consumed everything. If she let go completely—

"You hesitate," Lyra whispered. "And that's why you'll lose."

Shira's vision blurred as Lyra's shadows surged forward again. For a moment, fear gripped her chest.

And then Elias was there.

He stepped in front of her, his sword catching the darkness mid-strike. The impact sent him reeling, but he didn't falter. "Shira, listen to me." His voice was urgent. "You're stronger than this. You control the fire. It doesn't control you."

Shira's heart pounded. The fire was a part of her—but so was her will. She didn't have to become what Lyra claimed she would. She didn't have to be Darkwind's puppet.

Her fingers tightened around the Dragonlord's blade. She inhaled sharply, focusing, letting the power rise—but this time, she didn't let it consume her.

Golden fire ignited along the sword's edge, its brilliance cutting through the darkness like a beacon. Lyra's eyes narrowed, her smirk faltering for the first time.

Shira lifted the blade. "You're wrong about me."

And then she struck.