What Was Taken
The storm broke at dusk.
Not with thunder—but with silence.
A messenger was found murdered outside the northern gate. His tongue cut out. His blood used to scrawl a single message across the stone in a jagged, trembling hand:
"The girl is not yours."
Cassian read it aloud in the war room, his jaw tight, voice flat.
Kade stared at the mark burned into the body—a sigil he hadn't seen in years.
"The Dreaded Sigil," he murmured. "House Hollowbrook's secret crest. Long forbidden."
Elder Sevra narrowed her eyes. "Dareth."
Kade nodded. "He's vanished from his wing. No word. No guard."
Cassian looked at Lyra across the table. "It's starting. From the inside."
She didn't flinch. She just stood.
"Then we end it from the inside too."
Nyra slept fitfully in the high tower.
Furs twisted around her.
Sweat clung to her skin.
And behind her eyelids, she dreamed.
Not like a child.
Like a seer.
She stood on a battlefield of black glass, her hands bloodied, her eyes glowing with a light too old for her body.
Before her, two thrones burned.
Cassian on one.
Kade on the other.
Her mother stood between them—torn, teeth bared, her dress stitched from runes and ash.
Choose, a voice whispered.
One will die.
One will love you.
One will break you.
Nyra screamed herself awake.
Meanwhile, in the ancient archive buried beneath the throne room, Lyra stood beside Cassian.
Books surrounded them—tomes forgotten, censored, locked in moon-iron shelves.
And Cassian—silent, careful—offered her an unmarked scroll.
"I found it before the war," he said. "Didn't understand it then. I do now."
She unrolled it.
And froze.
It was a marriage contract.
One never signed.
Marked with the seal of the High Council and… his name.
And hers.
Cassian spoke, voice low. "They were going to bind us officially. Blood and bond. I agreed. But the day before the contract was meant to be sealed, they took you."
Her heart twisted. "You knew?"
"I didn't know they sold you," he said. "But I knew they were afraid. Of your blood. Of your power. Of how much I wanted you."
He took a step closer.
She didn't move.
"I would've burned everything for you, Lyra," he said. "But they knew that. So they made sure I thought you were already gone."
Her voice broke. "And now?"
"Now," he said softly, "I'd let it all burn, and stand in the fire with you."
Their eyes met.
Not like before.
Like now.
Stripped of lies.
Cracked by time.
She reached up, slowly, her fingers brushing his jaw.
He didn't kiss her.
Not yet.
But his hand covered hers.
Pressed it to his chest.
Let her feel the thrum of something real.
And dangerous.
And new.
In the shadows beyond the archive door, Dareth watched.
And smiled.
Because tonight, he wouldn't strike with steel.
He'd strike with secrets.
And the next time Lyra looked into Cassian's eyes—
She'd learn the worst betrayal of all hadn't yet been revealed.
The silence between Lyra and Cassian in the archive thickened—warmer now, but no less dangerous.
Cassian still held her hand over his heart. His voice had steadied, but barely.
"I would've fought for you, Lyra. I will now."
Lyra looked up at him, her defenses cracked but not shattered. "You say that like it's a promise."
"It is," he said.
She didn't pull away.
But she didn't lean in either.
Because part of her—the part forged in chains and fire—remembered.
The auction block.
The collar.
The eyes that turned away when she needed them to fight.
Cassian had been her mate.
He'd also been her end.
"I want to believe you," she whispered. "But belief got me sold."
He winced like the words struck bone.
Then said something soft. Quiet.
"I believe you survived. That's why I never stopped searching."
Her hand slipped from his chest.
Not cold.
But cautious.
"I'm not the girl you lost," she said.
"I know," he replied. "You're more."
Later that night, Lyra sat at the edge of her daughter's bed, brushing damp hair from Nyra's brow.
Nyra stirred in her sleep, whispering fragments from her dreams.
"Flames… thrones… blood on the stars…"
Lyra kissed her temple. "Shh, little moon. Not tonight."
But in the corner of the room, a raven perched on the windowsill.
Watching.
Listening.
And when it flew, a torn scrap of parchment fluttered from its claw—landing softly beside Nyra's hand.
Lyra didn't see it.
But someone else would.
Across the Hold, Kade paced the moon garden, tension coiling in his shoulders.
He felt it—the shift.
Cassian and Lyra.
It was happening again.
The old pull between them.
The fire that once forged bonds and broke kingdoms.
And he hated how much it still hurt.
Because Lyra hadn't just survived.
She'd changed.
And the part of her that understood power now saw him not just as a king—but as the brother who stayed.
Not the one who burned.
"She's still choosing him," he muttered.
Elder Sevra stepped from the shadows. "No," she said. "She hasn't chosen yet."
"But she will."
Sevra's gaze was sharp. "Not if you remind her who stood at her side when he did not."
Kade said nothing.
But his jaw clenched.
Because he hadn't just stayed for duty.
He'd stayed for her.
And in the catacombs below Blackthorn Hold, Dareth lit a black candle.
Whispers crawled through the cracks in the stone.
The Hollow Ones listened.
He held up a scroll—sealed in old royal wax.
The truth.
The one Cassian buried.
The one that, once revealed, would ruin everything between him and Lyra.
The decree Cassian had signed before Lyra was sold—
Giving up all claim to any child born of her womb.
Not for betrayal.
But to keep her alive.
And yet…
He never told her.
Lyra stood alone in her chambers as the fire in the hearth dwindled.
The air was too quiet.
The kind of silence that came before something broke.
She paced once, then opened the small chest at the foot of her bed. Inside: a torn ribbon from Nyra's infancy, an old pendant that once belonged to her mother, and a scrap of black silk from the day she was branded.
The memories didn't wound her anymore.
But they warned her.
She felt him before he knocked.
Cassian.
She didn't need the bond—they shared too much blood, too much ruin, for her not to know.
"Come in," she said.
He entered like a storm held just barely in check.
"You shouldn't be alone tonight," he said quietly.
She raised an eyebrow. "Why? Do you think I'll shatter?"
"No," he said. "I think they want you to."
She looked away, but only for a moment. "Kade thinks I'm still deciding between you. Between both of you."
"And are you?" he asked.
That pulled her eyes back to his. "Do you think I should?"
He stepped closer, until only a breath separated them. "I think you already know where you lean."
She didn't step back.
Didn't deny it.
But her voice dropped into something razor-sharp.
"If I fall into this again—into you—you'd better be damn sure this time you don't let me burn alone."
Cassian reached up, brushing a silver strand of hair from her cheek. "If you fall into fire, Lyra, I'm the one who lights the match with you."
The moment stretched—dangerous, charged.
But she pulled back just before the heat could break into flame.
"I need truth more than I need comfort," she said. "I need proof that you didn't give me up."
Cassian's breath caught.
And for the first time in hours, he looked away.
That silence…
That hesitation…
Lyra's heart froze.
"What aren't you telling me?" she asked, voice cold.
Before he could answer—
A knock at the door.
A messenger entered, pale and trembling.
"A scroll," he said. "For you. Urgent."
Cassian stiffened the moment he saw the wax seal.
Old.
Royal.
Deadly.
Lyra unrolled the scroll slowly.
Her eyes scanned the page once.
Twice.
And then she looked up.
Stared straight into Cassian's soul.
Voice flat.
"You signed this."
He opened his mouth.
"No. Don't speak. Not yet."
She stepped back.
Held the parchment like a knife.
"You gave up all claim to me. To Nyra. To our bond."
Cassian's voice was rough. "To protect you."
"But you didn't tell me," she said. "You let me believe I was abandoned. Branded. Alone. All while you signed her away."
"I didn't know you lived," he whispered.
Her power surged like a pulse under her skin.
Not rage.
Something deeper.
Betrayal layered over longing.
Old love laced with fresh ash.
"You say you'd burn for me," she said. "But I burned because of you."
Then she turned away.
And Cassian let her go.
Because this time, she didn't slam the door.
She closed it slowly.
Quietly.
Like a woman saving her wrath for later.
And Cassian knew—
That was worse.