Lyrae's POV
I wake up in a cell.
Not a dungeon cell—that would almost be better. This is a guest room in Verdana territory, but the locked door and guards outside make it clear what I really am.
A prisoner. Just like Draven.
I sit up too fast and my head spins. The last thing I remember is the golden barrier shattering and Draven catching me. After that, nothing.
The door opens. Mom walks in carrying a tray of food, and for a second, I forget everything—the war, the powers, the impossible choices. I just see my mother, and I want to run into her arms like I'm five years old again.
But the two armed guards behind her remind me that nothing is simple anymore.
"How do you feel?" Mom asks, setting the tray on the bedside table.
"Like I got hit by lightning." I touch my head, feeling bandages. "What happened? How long was I out?"
"Six hours. The healers say you exhausted yourself completely." She sits on the edge of the bed, studying my face like she's trying to memorize it. "Lyrae, what you did out there... that barrier. Those powers. Where did they come from?"
"I don't know."
"Don't lie to me."
"I'm not!" Frustration bubbles up inside me. "You think I understand any of this? One minute I'm normal, the next I'm glowing and healing people and creating barriers out of thin air! I don't know what's happening to me, Mom. I'm scared."
My voice breaks on the last word. Mom pulls me into a hug, and I finally let myself cry.
"We'll figure it out," she whispers. "Together. But Lyrae, you need to tell me about the Ashborn warrior. About Draven."
I pull back, wiping my eyes. "Where is he? Is he okay?"
"He's alive. For now." Mom's expression darkens. "Your father wants him executed. The council wants him questioned and used as a bargaining chip. But I convinced them to wait until you woke up and could tell us what happened."
"He saved my life, Mom. Multiple times. He's not a monster."
"He's Ashborn. His people killed your brother."
"And our people killed his sister!" The words explode out of me. "She was seven years old, Mom. Seven. He heard her screaming his name while she burned, and he couldn't save her. Just like I couldn't save Caelan."
Mom's face goes pale. "How do you know that?"
"Because he told me. Because when we were both dying in that ravine, we talked. Really talked. And I realized something—he's not my enemy. The war is. The hatred is. All of this endless violence that keeps taking people we love."
"It's not that simple."
"Why not?" I stand up, ignoring the dizziness. "Why does it have to be complicated? He saved me even though I'm Verdana. I saved him even though he's Ashborn. Can't that be enough?"
Mom is quiet for a long moment. Then: "Your father is coming. He wants answers. And Lyrae—" Her voice drops low. "There are people in the council who think you're dangerous. That those powers make you a threat."
"A threat to who?"
"To everyone. Both sides." She grips my shoulders. "You need to be careful what you say. What you show them. Because if they decide you're too dangerous to control..."
She doesn't finish, but she doesn't have to.
They'll kill me.
Just like they want to kill Draven.
"I need to see him," I say. "Draven. I need to make sure he's okay."
"That's not possible."
"Mom, please. He's alone in enemy territory. He gave up everything to protect me. I owe him—"
"You owe him nothing!" Mom's voice sharpens. "He's Ashborn, Lyrae. You may have bonded with him during your ordeal, but that doesn't change what he is."
"What he is? He's someone who chose compassion over hatred. Who chose to save a life instead of take one. That's what he is."
Before Mom can respond, the door opens again. This time, it's Dad.
Commander Jaxon looks older than I remember. Tired. There are new lines around his eyes, and his hair has more gray than before.
"Lyrae," he says, and his voice cracks. "Thank the stars you're alive."
He crosses the room and pulls me into a crushing hug. For a moment, we're just father and daughter again. No war. No complications.
Then he pulls back, and I see the commander in his eyes.
"Tell me everything," he orders. "From the ambush to now. Every detail."
So I do. I tell him about being separated from the family, about falling into the ravine, about Draven saving me from the ash-wolves. I tell him about the cave, about Zephyr and the other warriors, about discovering my powers.
I don't tell him how Draven looked at me when I healed him. How his voice softened when he thought I was dying. How he called me brave when I wanted to give up.
Some things are mine to keep.
When I finish, Dad is silent for a long time.
"This warrior," he finally says. "Draven. Do you trust him?"
"Yes."
"Even knowing what his people did to us? To Caelan?"
"He didn't kill Caelan, Dad. And I didn't kill his sister. We're not responsible for what happened before we met."
Dad's jaw tightens. "That's a naive way to look at war."
"Maybe. Or maybe that's the only way to end it."
"By trusting the enemy?"
"By recognizing they're not all enemies." I meet his eyes. "You taught me that leaders make hard choices. That sometimes the right thing isn't the easy thing. Well, the right thing is letting Draven live. Honoring Mom's promise. Showing both sides that mercy is possible."
"And if I can't?" Dad asks quietly. "If the council overrules me? If keeping him alive puts our entire territory at risk?"
Before I can answer, alarms start blaring throughout the compound.
Dad's hand goes to his weapon. "What—"
A soldier bursts through the door, panting. "Sir! The prisoner! He's—"
"He's what?" Dad demands.
"He's escaping! And he's taken three guards hostage!"
My blood runs cold. No. No, Draven wouldn't—
But even as I think it, I know I'm wrong. Of course he would. He's in enemy territory, surrounded by people who want him dead. He probably heard them talking about executing him and decided to fight his way out.
Dad is already running, shouting orders. Mom grabs my arm.
"Stay here," she commands.
"But—"
"Lyrae, STAY HERE!"
She runs after Dad, and I'm left alone with one guard at my door.
I pace the room like a caged animal. This is bad. This is so bad. If Draven hurts anyone, they'll kill him on sight. All the promises, all the mercy—it'll mean nothing.
I have to stop him.
The guard at my door is young—maybe nineteen. He keeps glancing nervously down the hallway where the alarms are blaring.
"I need to use the bathroom," I tell him.
"Can't. Commander's orders. You stay in this room."
"I really need to—"
"I said no!"
Fine. We'll do this the hard way.
I let my hands start to glow. Just a little. Just enough that he sees.
The guard's eyes go wide. "Don't—don't do anything crazy—"
"Then let me out."
"I can't! Commander Jaxon will—"
The glow brightens. I don't actually know what I'm doing, but he doesn't know that.
"Last chance," I say.
He steps aside, hands raised.
I run.
The compound is chaos. Soldiers everywhere, all heading toward the east wing. I go the opposite direction, following my instincts.
If I were Draven, where would I go?
The answer comes to me: the stables. He'd need a way out, and horses are the fastest option.
I sprint through empty corridors, my heart pounding. Please don't let him hurt anyone. Please don't let them hurt him.
I burst into the stables just as Draven is mounting a horse.
He freezes when he sees me.
"Lyrae."
"What are you doing?" I gasp, out of breath.
"What does it look like? I'm leaving." His face is hard, unreadable. "They're going to execute me. I heard the guards talking. They're just waiting for your father's order."
"So you're taking hostages? You're proving them right about you being dangerous?"
"I didn't hurt them! They're just tied up in the supply room." He grips the reins tighter. "And I don't care what they think of me. I care about staying alive."
"If you run, you prove everyone who says you're a monster is right."
"I never said I wasn't a monster."
"But you're not!" I move closer, even though he's on a horse and could easily run me down. "You saved my life. Over and over. You protected me from your own people. You're not—"
"I'm a killer, Lyrae!" His voice cracks. "I've killed Verdana soldiers. Probably people you knew. People your father commanded. I've done terrible things in this war, and running now doesn't erase any of that."
"No. But staying does." I'm right next to the horse now, looking up at him. "Stay. Fight for a different future. Show them that change is possible."
"They'll never accept me."
"Then make them." I grab his hand—the one holding the reins. "You're the bravest person I've ever met. Don't run now."
For a moment, I think he's actually considering it.
Then the stable doors burst open. Dad storms in with at least twenty soldiers, all with weapons drawn.
"Get away from him, Lyrae," Dad orders, his voice deadly calm.
"No."
"That's not a request."
"And I'm not a child anymore!" I step between Draven and the soldiers. "He was leaving. Running away. But I stopped him because I believe he's better than that. Better than all of us."
"He took hostages."
"He tied them up. There's a difference."
"He's Ashborn."
"He's a person!" My hands start glowing again—not on purpose, but from emotion. "And if you want to kill him, you'll have to kill me first."
The glow spreads, creating a small barrier between me and the soldiers. Not as strong as before, but enough to make them hesitate.
Dad's face goes pale. "Lyrae, you don't know what you're doing."
"I know exactly what I'm doing. I'm choosing mercy over revenge. I'm choosing to break this cycle of hatred. And I'm asking you—begging you—to do the same."
Silence falls in the stable. Soldiers shift uncomfortably. Dad stares at me like he's seeing a stranger.
Behind me, I hear Draven dismount. He walks up beside me, facing the soldiers without weapons, without a horse, without any way to escape.
"She's right," he says quietly. "I was running. I was being a coward. But if she's brave enough to stand here and defend me, I'm brave enough to face whatever punishment you decide." He looks at Dad. "I give you my word—I won't try to escape again. I won't fight. Whatever you decide, I'll accept."
"Even death?" Dad asks.
"Even death."
The words hang in the air like a blade.
Then a new voice speaks from the doorway: "That won't be necessary."
Everyone turns. A man I don't recognize stands there—old, with white hair and ceremonial robes. He has the markings of a high elder, one of the council leaders.
"Elder Thorne," Dad says, bowing his head slightly.
Elder Thorne walks into the stable, his eyes fixed on me. On my glowing hands. On the barrier between me and the soldiers.
"Fascinating," he murmurs. "The reports were accurate. She really does have Aetheria's blessing."
"What?" I lower my hands, and the barrier fades.
Elder Thorne smiles, but it's not kind. It's hungry.
"Tell me, child," he says. "Did your mother never tell you what you are? What you were born to be?"
Ice floods my veins. "What are you talking about?"
His smile widens. "You're not Verdana, Lyrae. You never were. You're something much more valuable. Much more dangerous."
He gestures, and soldiers move forward—not toward Draven, but toward me.
"What are you doing?" Dad demands.
"Securing our future," Elder Thorne says calmly. "The girl is coming with me. By order of the full council."
"Like hell she is!" Draven moves in front of me, but soldiers grab his arms, restraining him.
I try to back away, but hands grab me too. My power flares, but I'm too weak, too confused.
"Dad!" I scream. "Dad, help me!"
But Dad just stands there, looking at Elder Thorne with an expression I can't read.
"You knew," Mom's voice says from the doorway. She's there now too, fury on her face. "Jaxon, you KNEW what they wanted with her, and you didn't tell me?"
"I had no choice," Dad says, but he won't look at her. Won't look at me.
"There's always a choice!" Mom draws her weapon. "Let my daughter go. Now."
Elder Thorne sighs. "Lady Seraphine, don't make this harder than—"
Mom's blade is at his throat before he can finish.
"I said. Let. Her. GO."