CHAPTER 42

The Aftermath of War

The war is over, but the wounds remain.Lyra faces the cost of her choices.Alden's fate hangs in the balance.

The Silence After the Storm

The castle halls were eerily quiet. The battle had ended, yet the ghosts of war still lingered.

Lyra knelt beside Alden, pressing her hands against his wound, her fingers trembling as she tried to stop the bleeding.

"Alden, stay with me," she whispered, her voice cracking.

His eyes fluttered open, pain clouding his gaze. "Lyra…" he breathed, barely a whisper.

She bit back a sob. His skin was cold, too pale. He was slipping away.

"Help!" she screamed into the void, her voice raw with desperation. "Somebody helps!"

Kael appeared at the doorway; his face grim. He moved fast, kneeling beside them, his hands already glowing with healing magic.

"He's losing too much blood," Kael muttered.

"Then fix it!" Lyra snapped, tears streaming down her face.

Kael didn't argue. He placed his hands over Alden's wound, chanting ancient words. A faint golden glow spread over his body.

Lyra watched in horror. Would it be enough?

Would he survive?

Her hands curled into fists.

She had won the war. She had defeated Eryx.

But at what cost?

The people of Eldoris had gathered in the castle courtyard, faces shadowed with grief.

The battle had ended, but so many had died.

Smoke still curled in the air from the fires that had raged. Bodies lined the streets, warriors who had given their lives to protect the kingdom.

Lyra stood on the balcony; her heart heavy.

"Are this what victory feels like?" she murmured.

Selene, standing beside her, placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. "It feels empty, doesn't it?"

Lyra nodded.

She had spent her whole life fighting fate, fighting destiny.

Now, she had won—but she felt hollow.

Alden Awakens 

A gasp.

Lyra's head snapped up so fast that pain shot through her neck. She had been sitting by Alden's bedside for hours; her hands numb from gripping his.

Now, his fingers twitched. His chest, which had barely moved before, rose and fell with a shaky breath.

"Alden?" Her voice was hoarse from exhaustion and fear.

A flicker of movement. His eyelids fluttered, his face contorted in pain before his eyes finally opened.

A slow, agonizing heartbeat passed. Then another.

He was alive.

Lyra released a breath she hadn't realized she was holding.

"You're awake," she whispered, her voice trembling.

Alden's lips barely moved, but she heard it—

"Lyra…"

She swallowed the lump in her throat, pressing his hand to her lips. His skin was still cold, far too cold. His face was ghostly pale, but his heart was beating.

"You scared me," she admitted, her voice breaking. "I thought I lost you."

His fingers weakly squeezed hers.

"You're… stuck with me," he murmured, a ghost of his usual smirk appearing before it faltered from the pain.

Lyra laughed, but it sounded more like a sob. She hated how close she had come to losing him.

Kael stepped forward, his face lined with exhaustion. "His body is still weak. He needs time to heal."

Lyra nodded, but her fingers never let go of Alden's.

For the first time in days, she allowed herself to hope.

The throne room had never felt so suffocating.

The kingdom had gathered, nobles and warriors alike standing beneath the grand chandeliers. The banners of Eldoris hung in gold and deep blue, though their edges were still singed from battle.

Lyra stood before the Celestial Throne, her pulse thrumming like war drums in her ears.

Kael stepped forward, the ancient crown of Eldoris glinting in his hands.

"You have earned this," he said. "But are you ready?"

Was she?

The weight of her losses pressed on her shoulders—Eryx's betrayal, the countless soldiers who had fallen, the friends who would never stand by her side again.

She wanted to say no.

But she had no choice.

With a slow, steady breath, she knelt.

Kael placed the crown upon her head. The metal was cold, heavy—a reminder of what she had sacrificed.

For a moment, there was only silence.

Then the roar of applause erupted, shaking the very walls of the castle.

But Lyra barely heard it.

She was no longer just Lyra.

She was Queen Lyra of Eldoris.

And she had never felt more alone.

 The Haunting Nightmare 

That night, Lyra couldn't sleep.

She sat in her chambers, the golden crown resting on the table beside her. The weight of it had already left a dull ache in her skull.

A fire crackled in the hearth, but the warmth didn't reach her bones.

Then—a whisper.

A chill swept through the room.

Lyra's breath hitched. She turned, her eyes darting to the darkened corners of the chamber.

Nothing.

And yet… the whisper came again.

A voice she had hoped never to hear again.

"You thought it was over?"

Her heart lurched.

The flames in the fireplace flickered violently, casting eerie shadows on the walls.

Eryx.

She knew it was impossible. He was dead. She had seen him fall.

And yet, she could feel him.

The room grew colder, suffocating.

Lyra spun to the mirror across the room—and froze.

Her reflection wasn't alone.

Behind her, standing in the shadows, was Eryx.

His silver eyes burned with something unnatural. His lips curled into a mocking smirk.

Lyra's stomach twisted in horror.

"Impossible," she breathed.

Eryx tilted his head. "You still don't understand, do you?"

The mirror shattered.

Lyra woke up gasping for air.

Her hand flew to her chest, her heart pounding wildly.

A nightmare.

It had to be a nightmare.

But when she looked at the mirror across the room—

The cracks were still there. The next morning, Lyra sat on the castle balcony, staring out at the kingdom. The nightmare still haunted her.

Alden appeared beside her, moving slower than usual, still weak from his wounds.

"You're thinking too much," he said softly.

She let out a hollow laugh. "You almost died, and you're telling me I think too much?"

Alden smiled, but his eyes held concern. "Something is bothering you."

Lyra hesitated. Then she whispered, "Eryx."

Alden stiffened. "He's dead."

"I know," Lyra said. "But… I saw him."

Alden turned, fully facing her now. "What do you mean?"

She told him about the dream—the whispers, the mirror. The way Eryx had looked at her, as if he wasn't truly gone.

Alden grabbed her hands. "Lyra, listen to me. If there's even a chance that he's not—"

She shook her head. "I don't know if it's real or if it's just… my mind playing tricks on me."

Alden's jaw clenched. "Either way, I won't let him take you from me."

Lyra's breath hitched.

Something in his voice—**raw, desperate—**made her heart ache.

For the first time in weeks, she let herself lean into him.

She rested her head against his shoulder, closing her eyes.

"I won't let him take me," she whispered.

Alden's arms wrapped around her, pulling her closer.

"I won't let him touch you," he vowed.

The warmth of his embrace was the only thing keeping her from falling apart.

Far beyond the castle walls, in the depths of the Forgotten Ruins, the air trembled.

A figure moved through the darkness.

The shattered remnants of Eryx's body lay untouched—but his spirit had not vanished.

A dark presence slithered through the ruins, whispering, shifting.

And then—

A pair of silver eyes snapped open.

A voice, chilling and familiar, echoed through the void.

"I'm not done yet."