Kyra's POV
She didn't remember falling asleep.
The last thing she could clearly recall was the surge of something ancient rising inside her — a pressure that exploded from her lips in words she didn't know, yet somehow had always known.
Now, her head throbbed softly, like a bell that had been rung too hard. The air smelled of moss, smoke, and lavender. She blinked slowly, finding herself nestled on a cushioned mat beside a stone basin flickering with soft blue flame.
She sat up with effort.
The room was round — earthen, ancient — vines woven into the walls like veins. Floating candles glowed without flame. Symbols etched in silver shimmered across the stone floor in a language she still couldn't read, but her blood recognized.
"You're awake," came a voice like old trees creaking.
Kyra turned to see her. Soraya. She looked older tonight — older and more powerful, cloaked in a deep crimson robe embroidered with gold runes.
Keal stood in the corner, arms folded, eyes sharp and stormy, but his tension eased when their eyes met. Behind him, Lorian paced like a beast caged.
Kyra's voice cracked. "Where… are we?"
"You're safe," Soraya said softly. "For now."
Kyra's heart pounded. "Did I— Did I hurt someone?"
"You did what none of us could," Lorian muttered. "You broke the Council's magic. Sent them running."
She flinched. "I didn't mean to."
"I know," Soraya said, kneeling beside her. Her gaze was piercing, but not unkind. She took Kyra's hand in hers and whispered a spell Kyra didn't understand. The sigils on the floor pulsed once.
"Your pulse is steady," Soraya said. "But your magic is waking faster than I feared."
Keal moved to her side, crouching down. "When they tried to execute me, you spoke in the tongue of the First Circle. That magic tore through every barrier. It was—"
"Impossible," Lorian interrupted.
"And yet she did it," Keal said firmly.
Kyra pulled the blanket tighter around herself. "Why now? Why me? I've never… never done anything like that before."
Soraya stood slowly, her expression guarded. "Because your blood remembers. And when blood remembers, power answers."
Kyra's fingers trembled. "What am I?"
No one spoke.
The silence weighed heavily.
Then Soraya finally whispered, "You are not a witch. Not fully. And not just human either. You are something rare. Something older. A thread of blood that should have gone extinct with the Originals."
"The Originals?" Kyra echoed.
"The First Circle," Keal clarified. "The first line of witches and vampires born from the night. Their power was sealed generations ago. No one alive should carry it."
"And yet she does," Soraya said.
Kyra's stomach turned. "So I'm cursed?"
"No," Soraya said. "You're chosen. But being chosen comes with consequences."
Suddenly, the candles flickered, shadows twisting unnaturally along the walls. The earth trembled faintly beneath them. Kyra looked around, panicked. "What was that?"
Soraya's face darkened. "The world heard you. Old things… hidden things… they felt your magic."
Lorian's hand went to his blade. "Are they coming?"
"Not yet," Soraya murmured. "But they are watching."
Keal moved closer to Kyra. "We won't let anything happen to you."
But Soraya's gaze lingered on Kyra, and her voice dropped, barely more than a whisper:
"If she awakens fully before the bond is complete… even we may not survive her."
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