Chapter 19

The Chains of Fate

The wind howled through the shattered remains of the ancient citadel; its ruins bathed in the cold glow of the twin moons. Lyra stood at the edge of a crumbling balcony, her golden mark pulsing against her skin as if warning her of the storm that was about to break.

Below, the city of Eldoris flickered with unrest. Shadows moved between the alleyways; whispers of treason carried by the wind. The people feared her, revered her, but most of all, they doubted her. She could feel their uncertainty as surely as she could feel the celestial magic coursing through her veins.

Eryx stood beside her, his silver eyes reflecting the celestial glow. His presence was as intoxicating as ever, a dangerous mixture of power and mystery.

"You feel it, don't you?" he murmured, voice smooth as silk. "The power that was meant to be yours."

Lyra's fists clenched at her sides. "Power is never meant for just one person. It corrupts, consumes—"

"And yet," Eryx interrupted, stepping closer, "you cannot deny that it sings to you. You tasted it in the temple. You wielded it against the Shadow born."

His voice sent shivers down her spine. She hated how he could see through her so effortlessly. He was right—she had felt the power surging through her, filling her with something otherworldly. For the first time, she had felt unstoppable. But at what cost?

She turned away from him, heart pounding. The visions had become stronger glimpses of a future she could not comprehend. A world bathed in eternal night, her own figure standing at the center of it, wreathed in celestial fire.

A choice was coming.

Alden entered the chamber, his expression tense. The light of the torches cast shadows across his sharp features. He looked like he had been fighting demons of his own.

"The royal council has called for an audience," he said, his voice rough with frustration. "They demand your answer by sunrise."

Lyra exhaled sharply. "They want me to surrender the throne."

"They want to control you," Eryx corrected, a smirk playing on his lips. "They fear what you might become."

Alden's jaw tightened. "They fear what you are leading us toward."

The air between them was thick with unspoken words.

She looked at Alden, the boy she had known her whole life, the man who had stood by her side through it all. And then at Eryx, the enigma who had thrown her entire world into chaos. Both were trying to protect her in their own ways.

Before she could respond, the torches flickered violently. A gust of unnatural wind swept through the chamber, and a presence—dark and suffocating—descended upon them.

A voice, deep and ancient, whispered through the halls.

"The celestial balance is broken. The Forsaken One stirs."

Lyra's breath hitched. The Forsaken One—the entity prophesied to bring ruin to both realms.

She turned to Eryx, a pit forming in her stomach. "You knew this was coming, didn't you?"

Eryx's expression remained unreadable, but something flickered in his gaze. "It was inevitable."

Before she could press him further, a deafening crash sounded from the main hall.

The palace doors had been breached.

A war had begun.

Screams erupted in the distance, the clash of steel against steel ringing through the castle walls. Lyra's pulse pounded in her ears as she ran toward the grand hall, Alden and Eryx close behind her. The scent of burning wood filled the air.

When they reached the entrance, the scene before them made her blood run cold.

Figures clad in dark armor stormed through the castle, their eyes glowing with an unnatural golden light—the same shade as the celestial mark on her skin. They moved with eerie precision, cutting down royal guards with ease.

Alden drew his sword, stepping in front of Lyra. "Shadow born," he spat.

"No," Eryx said grimly. "Not just Shadow born. These are the Forsake n's warriors."

Lyra's hands trembled. These weren't just enemies. They were something worse. They were beings born of the celestial magic she had inherited—her power, twisted into something monstrous.

A figure stepped forward from the horde, their long cloak billowing like smoke. The moment Lyra locked eyes with them, she knew.

Her mother.

Queen Evelyne of Eldoris—who had vanished when Lyra was just a child—stood before her, untouched by time.

Lyra's breath caught. "No… that's impossible."

The queen's lips curled into a chilling smile. "Is it?" Her voice was smooth, untouched by emotion. "Did you think the celestial curse only applied to you?"

Lyra's knees nearly buckled. This wasn't just a war.

This was a reckoning.