The throne at the far end rose from granite and wolfbone. In it sat the King. Maelor did not rise to greet his cousin. He watched Aedric with eyes the color of thunderclouds and old grief.
Aedric bowed stiffly. "King Maelor."
Maelor gave the smallest nod. "Cousin."
The silence between them felt older than either of their fathers.
"I come with terms from the south," Aedric said. "An offer to rekindle alliance. To stand together."
Maelor's voice cracked like ice. "An alliance? Now? When the wind stinks of blood and rot again? How convenient."
A murmur rustled through the gathered warlords. A few glared openly. They knew the history.
"You've come from Maravelle bearing olive branches and gold-tongued promises," Maelor said. His voice was like gravel beneath ice. "I'll accept neither, for now."
Aedric met his eyes. "I am here on behalf of the king who is indisposed."
"No," Maelor said. "You simply come too late."
He stood, tall and severe, a king shaped by hardship, not court.
"Do you know how my father died?" Maelor asked, voice cold.
"Yes," Aedric said.
Maelor took a step down from the throne. "He died beside the Moonguard. Shoulder to shoulder with warriors touched by the Moon Goddess herself. While the Stormbite King, your father's brother and your father himself shuttered their gates, aligned themselves with the enemy and watched the sky burn."
"My father was a boy, he had just married my mother." Aedric said. "And I was not yet born. The king took every decision not even queen Maravelle had a say in court."
"That's supposed to make it better?" Maelor snapped. "The stain fades if the cloth is new? We buried heroes, Aedric. And the Stormbite line sent no riders. Not even words."
A heavy silence.
"We are not them," Aedric said.
Maelor studied him. "Then prove it."
"I intend to."
"Good, One of ours went missing," Maelor said. "A Warden of the North. Eira of the Emberbound. She was scouting the old Moonguard trail along the Frostvine Ridge. Sent a raven. Said she saw something that didn't belong in our world. Then nothing. No trail. No blood. No bones. Just a vanished warrior."
Aedric frowned. "You think she's alive?"
"You want trust, Stormbite? Earn it. Go after her. Bring her back, or bring the truth of her end."
Aedric's pulse ticked in his jaw. "I'm not your hound."
"No," Maelor agreed.
He stepped closer, his gaze unwavering.
"Your people watched the Moonguard die from their towers," he said low. "Mine bled beside them. Eira is a child of that legacy, one who still walks the old roads, still believes in honor. Do you?"
Aedric didn't flinch. "Give me the trail."
Maelor nodded once.
"She went north, past the Briar Hollow, toward the temple ruins the Moonguard once called sanctuary. You'll need a guide. Take Rell."
A tall woman stepped forward from the shadows, a scout cloaked in snow-leather, her gaze unreadable. She gave Aedric a single nod.
Maelor's voice turned solemn.
"Bring her back. Or bring her name home on your lips."
Back at Ninzu's temple, Lara lay sleeping in one of the chambers. She lay motionless, her breath slow with her chest rising gently as if she slept in the lap of the divine.
Thornak knelt beside her, one hand still tangled in her hair. He couldn't look away.
She had been asleep for two whole days.
"Narielle." He whispered.
Meanwhile Lara was in a sort of dream, or trance.
She stood in a quiet forest.
Moonlight filtered through the tall trees. The air was still and cool, humming with something ancient.
Ahead, a stone path wound through the trees, leading to a small temple half-hidden in ivy and moss. Lara didn't remember walking, she was simply there, drawn forward by something deep in her chest.
The door opened as she neared, creaking softly.
Inside, warm light spilled across the floor. There, in the heart of the temple, a little girl played. No older than five, she had a cascade of dark curls and eyes like molten moonstone. She laughed softly, chasing motes of light across the floor.
Two figures stood near her.
"Narielle my love," the woman said, kneeling beside the child. Her voice trembled with fierce tenderness. "Come."
The man behind her was tall, proud, dressed in the armor of a warrior king. He laid a hand on the woman's shoulder and looked down at the child, his child.
Two others stood nearby.
One was cloaked in travel-worn leathers, a scout perhaps. The other wore robes etched with runes that pulsed faintly with magic, a priest, ancient in bearing, voice grave with the weight of choice.
"It must be done," the priest said quietly. "The bloodline is hunted. The child must vanish... hidden until the stars call her home. I have everything ready for the ritual."
The woman's hands trembled as she turned to the scout who looked like a younger version of the father Lara remembered from the waking world. Her voice broke as she placed the child into his arms.
"I trust you," the woman said. "More than anyone. That's why... I'm trusting you with my daughter."
The man said nothing, only reached out and lifted the small girl into his arms. The child clung to his neck, her face buried against him, unaware of the world tearing itself apart around her.
The woman kissed the girl's brow, then stepped back.
The child turned once, confused. "Mama?"
The woman smiled through her tears. "You'll find your way back to me. When the moon rises. When you're ready."
"Stay hidden, little moon," the priest whispered. "Until you are ready."
The temple behind them began to fade, its stones collapsing into mist. Fire crackled in the distance.
Lara stood in the quiet temple again, the room looked messed up. The woman and man were gone, but their warmth remained, a comfort in the chill.
She turned slowly, taking in the stone walls, the broken mosaic beneath her feet, pieces of the Moon Goddess, shattered and faded, yet unmistakable. Her fingers brushed one tile, and it flared softly, as if it remembered her touch.
In the far corner, something shimmered.
A mirror, old and fogged with time.
She stepped toward it.
At first, she saw nothing. Then a flicker her own reflection, but not as she was. She stood tall, cloaked in silver and blue, eyes aglow with moonfire. A sword rested at her hip, a crown of starlight in her hair.
From behind the mirror, something pulsed. A heartbeat. A presence. Not threatening, but waiting.
A single silver feather drifted into view, light as breath, aglow with the faint shimmer of moonlight. It floated down, turning slowly in the air, and landed in her open palm.
Warm.
Alive.
The moment it touched her skin, the runes in the mirror's edge lit with soft, spiraling light. Not a door. Not a lock. But a threshold.
This was not a weapon. Not a relic. This was the key.
The dream began to dissolve.
The temple faded like mist.
And her body, in the waking world, stirred once more beneath Thornak's hand.
Back in the Temple, Lara's fingers twitched. A tear slid from beneath her closed lashes.
Thornak brushed it away.
He sat now, his great frame hunched beside her like a guardian made of iron and ache. His wolf paced beneath his skin, restless and reverent.
His voice broke softly in the temple hush.
"Come back to me, Lara."
"Come back, Narielle."
Her eyes flew open. Moonfire blazed in them.
Thornak was there in an instant, striding to her side as if nothing else in the world existed.
"Lara," he whispered, his voice raw.
She turned her head toward him. The blazing blue light in her eyes flickered, then faded, dimming into the deep, familiar black that had always been hers.
"By the gods..." Thornak murmured, brushing damp hair from her face. "You're here. You came back."
She blinked, confused and dazed. "Thorn..."
Before either could speak again, the temple doors creaked open.
Ninzu entered without a sound, her presence both reverent and knowing, like a shadow that belonged.
She took one long look at Lara, then nodded once, as though a great truth had finally stepped into place.
"The heir wakes," she said solemnly.
Lara tried to sit up, her limbs weak, her voice hoarse. "Where am I? What... what happened to me?"
Thornak explained as best as he could. "... so I brought you here. To the temple. You've been unconscious ever since."
Lara's brow furrowed, her memory fogged, fragmented. "I remember... the dark... and the mirror. In the dream... a feather floated down. It landed right here." She touched her palm.
As if answering her words, her hand suddenly blazed with light, silver and white, pure and bright, flooding the chamber like a rising dawn. Thornak flinched back, shielding his eyes. Even Ninzu, ever composed, gasped aloud.
"She has become the key," Ninzu whispered, voice thick with awe.
Then, just as suddenly, the light faded, vanishing into her skin as if it had never been.
Lara stared at her hand, shaken. "What does it mean? What's happening to me?"
Ninzu stepped forward, gentler now. "Do not be afraid. I will explain everything in time. But for now, rest. The key has awakened, and so has a part of you long hidden."
She turned to Thornak with a knowing look. "Stay with her. I must raise a cloak over the temple, it will keep the sorcerer from sensing her, at least for today."
And then Ninzu swept from the room, her robes whispering over stone as the door closed behind her.
Lara turned to Thornak, her voice barely more than a breath. "I'm scared."
Thornak didn't hesitate. He sat beside her on the bed and took her hand in both of his. "I know," he said quietly. "But you're not alone. You're safe here."
She leaned into him, the tension in her shoulders softening just a little.