The hologram's afterglow hadn't fully faded from the air before Sera felt her knees weaken. She caught the edge of the table, grounding herself, forcing air into her lungs as the weight of Lysa's message pressed against her ribs.
Seven days.
Seven days before the woman she once trusted—once admired—came to claim her like property.
Kieran broke the silence first. "Well. That was cheerful."
Theron shot him a glare sharp enough to cut stone. "Not the time."
"It's exactly the time," Kieran replied, unfazed. "You want to pretend this is a simple rescue mission? That woman didn't just train Sera. She engineered her."
Sera stiffened. "Don't."
"Oh, come on," Kieran said, stepping closer. "He deserves to know what you are."
Theron moved between them instantly. "Watch your words."
But Kieran's eyes weren't on Theron.
They were locked on Sera.
"Tell him," he said quietly. "Or I will."
The room spun. The walls felt too tight. The air, too thin.
"Sera?" Theron looked back at her, concern deepening. "What is he talking about?"
Sera swallowed. "It's… complicated."
"That seems to be a pattern," Kieran muttered.
Sera's fingers curled until her knuckles whitened. "Fine. You want the truth? Here it is."
She pushed away from the table and stood straight, back rigid, trembling only on the inside.
"When I said Lysa trained me… I didn't mean normal training. She didn't teach me skills. She altered me."
Theron blinked. "Altered?"
Sera took a breath so deep it almost hurt.
"Lysa experimented on me."
Theron's entire body froze. "What do you mean 'experimented'?"
Kieran stepped around them, pacing slowly. "She means Lysa injected her with shadow-infused serum—mixed with Key energy. The forbidden stuff. Illegal everywhere. Dangerous everywhere else."
Theron's face changed—shock, fear, fury all mixing into one pure expression of disbelief.
"Sera…" His voice broke. "Why didn't you tell me?"
She closed her eyes. "Because I don't want you to look at me like that."
Theron stepped closer—not away—and gently tipped her chin up. "Like what?"
"Like I'm something broken," she whispered.
His voice was soft, but firm. "You're not broken."
Kieran let out a slow exhale. "Maybe not broken. But changed. Permanently."
Sera flinched.
Theron turned sharply. "Explain."
Kieran stopped pacing. His expression shifted—serious, almost grim. "The serum Lysa used binds to the host's veins. Merges with their energy pathways. It enhances certain abilities but also… calls to the Key."
Theron frowned. "Calls?"
"It resonates with it. Like a magnet. Like it wants to activate every time the Key is near." Kieran nodded toward Sera. "That's why she can sense the Key better than anyone. Why she can use it without losing her mind."
Theron's gaze returned to Sera, realization dawning—slow, heavy, painful.
"You were engineered to unlock the Shadow Key."
Sera didn't answer.
She didn't have to.
The silence answered for her.
Theron's jaw tightened. "And Lysa wants you back so she can finish what she started."
Kieran gave a short nod. "Or control her completely."
Sera felt the familiar ache beneath her ribs—a subtle burn in her veins. A reminder of what Lysa had done. And what she still could do.
"I ran," Sera said quietly. "I escaped before she could finish the conditioning. She wanted to bind me to her permanently. Make me her weapon."
Theron's voice deepened. "She won't touch you again."
Kieran raised an eyebrow. "Bold promise."
Theron didn't blink. "Not a promise. A fact."
For a moment, despite everything, Sera felt warmth spread through her chest. Theron's protectiveness wasn't possessive—it was a vow without words.
But Kieran cut through the moment sharply. "Nice sentiment, but you might want to hear the rest before swearing your life away."
Theron's eyes narrowed. "There's more?"
Sera closed her eyes.
This was the part she hated the most.
"Kieran," Sera said quietly, "don't."
Kieran ignored her. "The serum didn't just change her abilities. It changed her lifespan."
Theron went still.
Sera whispered, "Kieran, stop."
But the soldier shook his head, expression dark. "He needs to know."
Theron's voice was low, barely controlled. "Changed how?"
Kieran inhaled slowly. "If she uses too much of the Key's power—or if Lysa forces activation—her system will collapse. The serum burns through human cells like acid when pushed too far."
Theron stared at Sera as if the world had tilted under his feet.
"You mean… it can kill you?"
Sera opened her mouth to answer—but nothing came out.
So she nodded.
Once.
Theron looked like someone had hit him.
Hard.
"You knew this," he whispered. "You've known this whole time."
Tears stung her eyes. "I didn't want it to matter."
"It does matter," he snapped—not in anger at her, but at the truth itself. "It matters because I—"
He cut himself off abruptly, jaw clenching, throat tightening around words he wasn't ready to say.
Kieran, for once, didn't interrupt.
Theron stepped closer, lowering his voice. "Sera. You should've told me."
"I didn't want you to treat me differently," she whispered. "I didn't want to be pitied."
"That's not what this is," he said, voice softer now. "This is fear. Because I can't lose you."
Those words hung thick between them.
Sera felt something break open inside her—pain, relief, longing, terror.
"I'm not dying today," Sera said, forcing steadiness into her voice. "Or any day Lysa chooses. I have control. I've had control for years."
Kieran snorted. "Sera, the serum reacts stronger the closer Lysa gets. She knows how your body works better than you do."
Sera looked at him sharply. "Then help me fight her."
For once, Kieran didn't have a sarcastic remark ready.
Theron exhaled slowly, tension still tight in his shoulders. "What's the plan?"
Kieran tapped the map. "The citadel Lysa mentioned? It's a trap. She expects us to walk in obediently. So we won't."
Theron nodded. "We flank her?"
"More than flank." Kieran's eyes shifted to Sera. "We use you."
Theron's voice dropped into a dangerous growl. "Not happening."
"Sera is the one she wants," Kieran insisted. "If Sera goes in first, we can slip in through the lower tunnels and hit Lysa's lieutenants before she knows we're there."
Theron shook his head. "No. She's not bait."
Kieran raised a brow. "She already is."
Sera sucked in a breath. "Enough."
Both men turned to her.
She stepped forward, spine straight, voice steady.
"If Lysa wants me, fine. Let her. I'll use that. I'll use everything she did to me." She lifted her chin. "But I won't be her weapon. I'll be her downfall."
Kieran's mouth curled into a small, approving smirk. "Now that's the Sera I remember."
Theron's gaze softened—fear still there, but trust layered beneath it. "If you're doing this, then we're doing it together."
Sera nodded. "Together."
Kieran tapped the timer on his wristband. "Seven days."
Theron picked up his blade. "Then we start now."
Sera placed her hand over her heart, feeling the quiet pulse—the shadow-serum humming faintly under her skin.
For the first time since receiving Lysa's message…
She didn't feel like prey.
She felt like the storm coming for her.
And she was ready.