CHAPTER 35

The Unfinished Battle

The sun had barely risen over the horizon when the air turned frigid.

Lyra felt it first. A shift. A tremor in the magic coursing through the land. The victory they had fought so desperately for suddenly felt... fragile. Unstable. As if something—someone—was still out there, waiting in the shadows.

She turned to the others. Alden's grip tightened on his sword. Kael's expression darkened. Selene whispered an incantation under her breath. Even Eryx—normally unreadable—stood rigid, his silver eyes scanning the battlefield with a look Lyra had never seen before.

Fear.

Then it came.

A sound.

Distant. Hollow. Like a breath from something that should not exist.

The ground beneath them trembled. Cracks splintered across the once-broken battlefield, glowing with a deep, unnatural blue. The air grew heavy, suffocating. A smell—burning ash and decay.

Kael cursed. "No. No, this isn't possible."

But it was.

From the cracks in the earth, something began to rise.

And Lyra felt it—the unmistakable pull of her own magic being drained.

 The Voice in the Dark

Lyra fell to her knees, clutching her chest. It was suffocating. The same feeling she had before—before she died.

But this time, it was worse.

She tried to breathe, to focus, but the energy being pulled from her felt like her very soul was unraveling. Her vision blurred. Everything turned black.

Then—

A voice.

"You thought it was over, Celestial Heir?"

Cold fingers brushed against her mind. Familiar. Cruel.

The Eclipse King.

Lyra's breath caught in her throat. He was dead. She had seen him fall.

Hadn't she?

The darkness around her shifted, forming a shadowed throne, a figure of ink and void sitting upon it. The Eclipse King leaned forward, his abyss-like eyes piercing into her soul.

"I never left."

Her blood ran cold.

The war wasn't over. It had never been over.

The Price of Power

She gasped awake. Alden was shaking her.

"Lyra! Stay with me!"

Her vision returned in waves of light and shadow. She was still in the battlefield, but now—the cracks had spread. Dark mist coiled around them like a living entity, growing stronger, reaching for them.

Selene's voice was filled with horror. "It's feeding off her power."

Eryx stepped forward; his silver eyes gleaming with understanding. "She's the key. If she dies, it will rise completely."

Alden turned on him, furious. "Then how do we stop it?!"

Lyra, still dazed, gritted her teeth and forced herself to her feet. "We don't stop it."

They all turned to her.

Her eyes burned with celestial fire. "We seal it."

But deep down, she knew the truth.

This would come at a cost.

And she wasn't sure she'd survive it.

The plan was desperate. Reckless.

But they had no choice.

Selene and Kael began carving an ancient seal into the earth, their hands glowing with raw magic. Alden stood beside Lyra, his expression unreadable.

Then there was Eryx.

He had been quiet. Too quiet.

Lyra turned to him, unease settling in her stomach. "Eryx, are you ready?"

For a moment, his silver eyes softened.

Then—he moved.

A sharp pain exploded in Lyra's side.

She gasped.

Looked down.

A dagger. Buried in her ribs.

Alden roared in fury. Kael and Selene froze in shock.

Eryx's hands were covered in her blood.

And then, in the chaos, he whispered—"Forgive me."

Before darkness consumed her.

Lyra's world was unraveling.

Pain radiated from the dagger wound in her side, a slow burn that spread like wildfire through her body. Her fingers, slick with her own blood, pressed desperately against the wound, but it was no use. The warm, wet sensation only grew, pooling beneath her, staining the ground beneath her like spilled ink.

She tried to move—to breathe.

But the effort was agonizing.

Her vision blurred, darkness creeping in at the edges. The battlefield, the voices of her friends, the chaos around her—it was all slipping away.

Somewhere in the distance, she could still hear Alden's enraged scream.

"Eryx, you traitor! I'll kill you!"

The sound of swords clashing. A strangled cry. Kael barking orders. Selene's voice, frantic, chanting a spell she hoped would keep Lyra from succumbing to the cold grip of death.

But Lyra…

Lyra was falling.

No. Not yet.

She fought against it.

Fought against the pull.

But her body was failing her. Her magic—her once untamed celestial power—was nothing more than a flickering ember.

And then—

Everything stopped.

She was somewhere else.

No battlefield.

No blood.

No war.

Just… silence.

A vast, endless space of swirling golden light.

Lyra's breathing steadied as she looked around, her wounds no longer aching. The warmth of the place was familiar, wrapping around her like a forgotten embrace.

And then—a presence.

She turned slowly.

A man stood before her. His eyes burned with celestial fire, his armor gleamed like the stars themselves. A crown rested atop his head, its intricate patterns shimmering in the golden haze.

Her breath hitched.

"Father?"

The King of Eldoris smiled softly, his features unreadable.

"Lyra," he said, his voice like the echo of a memory. "You have come so far."

Tears burned in her eyes. "I—I don't understand. Am I… dead?"

A deep sadness flickered across his face. "Not yet."

She swallowed hard.

"Then why am I here?"

Her father's expression darkened. "Because you must choose."

A heavy silence stretched between them.

"Choose?" she repeated.

His gaze softened, but there was an urgency beneath his words. "The balance is shifting, Lyra. You are the last tether between light and shadow. If you fall, Eldoris falls with you."

She clenched her fists. "But I—I don't have the strength."

Her father took a step forward, lifting a hand to her cheek.

"Strength does not come from power alone," he murmured. "It comes from will. From sacrifice."

Lyra trembled.

She had been fighting for so long.

She was tired.

Broken.

But… could she let go?

Could she abandon her people?

Her friends?

Alden?

No.

Not yet.

Her father's expression softened. He already knew her answer.

The golden light around them began to shift, crackling like lightning.

Her father's hand withdrew, his form beginning to fade.

"Go, Lyra," he whispered. "And remember—nothing is set in stone. Not even fate."

And then—

A violent pull.

Pain.

Fire.

And the world slammed back into focus.

Back on the Battlefield

She gasped awake, choking on blood.

Pain crashed into her all at once, as if her soul had been ripped from the stars and thrust back into the suffering of the mortal realm.

Selene was kneeling beside her, eyes wild with desperation. "Stay with me!"

Lyra's vision swam, but she forced herself to focus. To breathe.

The battle was still raging.

Alden and Eryx were locked in a vicious fight, their swords clashing in a storm of sparks and fury. Kael was holding back an advancing force of shadow creatures, his spells burning through them like fire through dry leaves.

And Lyra—

Lyra was alive.

She forced herself to sit up, agony lancing through her, but she didn't care.

Because now, she understood.

She knew what she had to do.

With trembling fingers, she pressed against the celestial mark on her skin. Its warmth pulsed beneath her touch, responding.

Selene's eyes widened. "Lyra, what are you—?"

Lyra exhaled, steeling herself.

Then she let go.

Her power erupted in a burst of blinding celestial energy, surging outward in waves, pushing back the darkness, the mist, the monsters.

The ground trembled.

The sky split open.

And suddenly—Eryx stumbled back, a look of pure shock on his face.

Lyra's burning gaze met his.

"It's over," she said, her voice laced with finality.

Eryx's expression flickered—anger, sorrow, regret.

Then, he vanished into the shadows.

The battle stilled.

And for the first time in what felt like eternity…

The world was quiet.