Kyra's POV
The room had grown colder.
Not the kind of cold that crept across skin, but something deeper — ancient, coiled in the bones. Kyra sat on a low cushioned bench, heart thudding, arms crossed over her chest. She didn't feel powerful. She felt... lost.
Soraya lit a thin candle with a flick of her fingers and set it on the altar. It burned blue.
"The Council will search for you now," she said. "But not just to punish you. They'll want to understand you. Or control you. Maybe both."
Kyra swallowed. "Why? What's so different about me?"
Soraya turned slowly, her crimson robe pooling like spilled blood at her feet. Her face was carved with sadness, like she'd been carrying a truth far too long.
"Because your blood is not just yours, Kyra. It's a call to something they thought was dead."
Kyra straightened. "You mean the Originals?"
"Yes," Soraya whispered. "The First Circle."
She moved to the wall and ran her fingers along a vine-covered panel. With a soft groan, the stone shifted, revealing a hidden chamber. Kyra followed, drawn by the soft golden glow inside.
At the center stood a wide circular table made of obsidian. Etched into its surface were symbols that pulsed faintly — older than any language Kyra had ever seen.
"This is where we remember them," Soraya said, placing her palm on the center rune. "The first witches and vampires. The ones born of the moon's rage and the night's hunger. Before the Council. Before law. When love was dangerous... and power was absolute."
Kyra moved closer. The symbols flickered as she neared, like they recognized her.
"They were real?" she asked.
"Yes," Soraya said. "The First Circle was formed of twelve beings — six witches, six vampires — who defied their kind and bonded in blood. Their children became something else entirely. Not human. Not witch. Not vampire. But a balance of all three."
Soraya looked at Kyra, her voice lower now.
"That balance is what you carry."
Kyra stared at her. "But I'm just the daughter of a witch and a vampire. That's happened before."
"Not like this," Soraya replied. "Your mother, Elira, was no ordinary witch. She descended from one of the last surviving lines of the First Circle — a line so faint no one noticed it. Not even her. But in her love for Lucien, in their union, something ancient reawakened."
Kyra's head swam. "So I'm... the result of a bloodline that was supposed to be extinct?"
"You are more than that," Soraya said, stepping closer. "You are the last thread. The final knot tied between blood and magic. And when you spoke those words at the execution, you didn't cast a spell. You remembered."
Kyra shivered. "I don't remember anything."
"Your blood does," Soraya said gently. "It's not about memory. It's about legacy."
Keal stepped into the chamber, silent until now. "That's why her power is so raw. Why it shook the Council. She's not just powerful... she's a symbol of everything they tried to erase."
"And they will fear her for it," Soraya said.
Kyra backed away from the table, her eyes wide. "But I didn't ask for any of this."
"No one ever does," Soraya replied. "But the night has chosen you. The First Flame burns again. And you must decide whether to carry it... or let it destroy you."
The symbols on the table flared suddenly, golden and bright, casting strange shadows across her face. The room went silent.
Kyra whispered, "So what happens now?"
Soraya met her gaze. "Now… we begin to remember everything they made you forget."
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