Keira's POV
My lightning struck the first shadow-guard in the chest.
It didn't die. It didn't even slow down.
"They're immune to elemental magic!" I shouted, dodging claws that had once been human hands.
Caelan's wind slammed another creature into the wall. It got up immediately, bones cracking back into place. "Not immune—resistant! We need to hit them harder!"
Three more shadow-guards charged down the dungeon stairs. Behind us, Silas's chains rattled as he laughed at our panic.
"You can't kill them!" he called. "They're already dead! The plague consumed their humanity! Now they're just walking nightmares that exist to spread more plague!"
A shadow-guard's claws raked across my arm. Pain exploded, and I felt something cold and wrong seep into my blood. The plague. These things could infect through violence.
"Keira!" Caelan caught me as I stumbled. His wind created a barrier between us and the monsters, but more kept coming. "How bad is it?"
"I'm already infected. Doesn't matter." I forced myself upright. "We need to get out of here!"
"The stairs are blocked!"
He was right. Ten shadow-guards now stood between us and escape. More poured down from above. We were trapped.
My mind raced. These creatures were plague victims. They'd been normal people twelve hours ago. Palace guards doing their jobs. Now they were monsters because I'd touched them.
Because I was Grandmother Nyx's weapon.
"Enough," I said quietly.
"Enough what?"
I stepped forward, away from Caelan's protection. The shadow-guards focused on me immediately, red eyes glowing with hunger.
"I created you," I told them. "My plague turned you into this. So maybe..." I extended my hands, letting my lightning magic flow. "Maybe I can take it back."
"Keira, what are you—"
"Trust me!" I pushed my magic into the nearest shadow-guard. Not to hurt. To connect. To feel the plague inside it.
And I felt it. A twisted corruption of my own life force. My magic, warped and weaponized by Grandmother Nyx's spell.
If it came from me... maybe I could reclaim it.
I pulled.
The shadow-guard screamed—a sound that was almost human. Black smoke poured from its body into me. The plague responded to my call, recognizing its source. Within seconds, the creature collapsed, unconscious but breathing. Human again.
"It worked!" Caelan breathed.
But I fell to my knees, gasping. Taking the plague back into myself was like swallowing poison. My body convulsed as the corrupted magic fought against my control.
"Keira!"
"I'm fine," I lied, forcing myself up. "But I can only do one at a time. And there are twenty of them."
"Then we do this together." Caelan's hands found mine. "Your lightning pulls the plague out. My wind carries it away before it can re-infect. We work as a team."
Our magic connected, and suddenly I understood. The prophecy said "storm-touched twins." Lightning and wind. Two elements that created storms together.
We weren't meant to fight alone. We were meant to combine.
"Let's end this," I said.
We attacked as one.
My lightning reached into each shadow-guard, pulling the plague corruption free. Caelan's wind caught the dark magic and dispersed it harmlessly. One by one, the monsters transformed back into unconscious humans.
It was working. We were saving them.
Then the seventeenth guard collapsed, and I felt my magic sputter. I'd pushed too hard, taken too much plague back into myself. My vision blurred. My legs gave out.
"Keira!"
Darkness pulled at me. The plague inside me was too strong, too corrupted. I was drowning in it.
Then I felt someone else's magic join ours.
Cool, ancient, powerful. It wrapped around me like a healing balm, stabilizing my crashing body. The plague recoiled from this new force.
I gasped, oxygen flooding my lungs.
"Breathe, child," a woman's voice said. "I've got you."
An elf woman knelt beside me, her hands glowing with silver light. Violet eyes studied me with inhuman wisdom. Her silver hair flowed like water.
"Lyra," Caelan said, relief flooding his voice. "Thank the gods. She's—"
"Dying from plague corruption, yes, I can see that." Lyra's magic poured into me, and I felt the poison being pushed back. Not removed, but contained. "Stupid girl. Absorbing plague back into yourself? That's a suicide technique."
"It was working," I gasped.
"It was killing you." Her tone was sharp but not unkind. "You can't cure plague by becoming more plagued, dear. That's not how healing works."
"Then what do we do? The shadow-guards—"
"Are handled." Lyra gestured. Other healers rushed past, tending to the unconscious guards. "Your little storm trick worked. The guards are human again. But you..." She touched my forehead, and I felt her magic reading something inside me. "Oh. Oh, child. What did they do to you?"
"Made me a weapon," I whispered.
"No." Lyra's ancient eyes filled with sorrow. "They made you a sacrifice. This plague spell—it's not designed to spread disease. It's designed to consume you from the inside out. Every person you save by absorbing their plague makes you weaker. In three days, you won't die from spreading plague. You'll die from being eaten alive by it."
Silence fell.
"That's why Silas said killing me would stop it," I realized. "Because I'm the plague's true host. Everyone else is just... temporary."
"Exactly." Lyra helped me stand, though my legs shook. "Grandmother Nyx was never going to let you destroy Valdoria. She was going to let you destroy yourself trying to save it. Either you die from the plague, or you die sacrificing yourself to cure others, or you die from the guilt of killing innocents. No matter what you choose, you lose."
Caelan looked like he wanted to punch something. "There has to be a way to save her."
"Maybe." Lyra studied me thoughtfully. "But first, you need rest. You both do. Come. I'm taking you somewhere safer than this dungeon."
She led us upstairs, away from Silas's cell. Away from his laughter and his lies and his impossible choices.
The palace above was chaos. Healers rushed everywhere, tending to the infected. Guards secured corridors. Servants evacuated children to safer locations.
All because of me.
Lyra brought us to a small study filled with ancient books. She locked the door and gestured for us to sit.
"Now," she said, pouring three cups of tea with steady hands. "Let's talk about what's really going on here. Because I've been alive for one hundred and fifty-six years, and I know a Grandmother Nyx trap when I see one."
I took the tea gratefully, letting the warmth seep into my shaking hands. "What do you mean?"
"I mean everything that's happened—from the moment you arrived in Valdoria—has been too convenient." Lyra sipped her own tea calmly. "You infiltrate easily. You 'happen' to see Prince Caelan at the perfect moment. The plague activates exactly on schedule. Even your guilt and self-sacrifice instincts play right into her plans. It's too perfect."
"So what are you saying?" Caelan demanded.
"I'm saying Grandmother Nyx isn't trying to destroy Valdoria." Lyra's violet eyes locked onto mine. "She's trying to destroy you. Break you completely. Make you choose death over life, isolation over connection, self-hatred over love."
"Why? What does she gain from that?"
Lyra set down her teacup. "Because you're terrified."
I blinked. "What?"
"You're terrified," she repeated, seeing through me with those ancient eyes. "Not of being captured. Not of dying. Not even of the plague. You're terrified of being wrong about everything you believe."
The words hit like a physical blow.
"The Covenant was your family," Lyra continued gently. "Your home. Your purpose. Accepting that it was all a lie means accepting that you wasted twenty-one years. That you killed people for nothing. That the only family you've ever known used you like a tool."
Tears burned my eyes. "Stop."
"But more than that," she pressed on, "you're terrified of this." She gestured between me and Caelan. "Of having a real brother who actually loves you. Because if you accept that love, you have to accept that you deserved it all along. That you were worth saving. Worth protecting. Worth cherishing."
"I'm not—"
"You are," Lyra said firmly. "And that terrifies you. Because if you're worth loving, then everything the Covenant did to you was wrong. Every punishment. Every cruel word. Every manipulation. It was all abuse. And accepting that means grieving for the childhood you lost. The girl you could have been."
I couldn't breathe. She was right. Gods, she was right.
"I don't know how to be loved," I whispered.
"So learn." Lyra reached across the table and took my hand—the hand that carried plague, infection, death. She took it anyway. "I'm offering you friendship, Keira Stormwright. No conditions. No expectations. Just the chance to be seen as human, not a weapon."
Something cracked in my chest. "Why? You don't even know me."
"I know you saved those guards instead of running. I know you're trying to cure a plague that's killing you. I know you love your brother enough to die for him." Lyra smiled. "That's enough for me to know you're worth saving."
I stared at this elf woman who looked at me like I mattered. Like I was more than my training. More than my mistakes.
"I don't know how to respond to that," I admitted.
"Then don't respond. Just accept it." She squeezed my hand. "Now, about this cure. I've been researching while you were fighting shadow-guards. I think I've found something."
Caelan leaned forward. "What?"
"The plague is tied to Keira's life force, yes. But it's also tied to her magic. Specifically, her elemental magic that's been corrupted." Lyra pulled out an ancient book, flipping to a marked page. "There's a ritual. Very old. Very dangerous. It's called the Elemental Purification."
"What does it do?" I asked.
"It burns away corrupted magic and replaces it with pure elemental energy from an uncorrupted source." She looked at Caelan. "In this case, your wind magic would be the source. You'd share your pure magic with Keira, burning away Grandmother Nyx's corruption."
Hope flickered. "Would it cure the plague?"
"Maybe. The corruption is what allows the plague to spread. Remove the corruption, and the plague might become dormant or die completely." Lyra's expression turned grave. "But the ritual requires a blood bond. You'd have to permanently link your magic. Share not just power, but life force. Pain. Emotions. Everything."
Caelan and I looked at each other.
"We're twins," he said. "We already share everything."
"This would be different. More permanent. More intimate. You'd feel each other's every emotion, every hurt, every joy. Forever." Lyra closed the book. "And there's a risk. If Keira's corruption is too strong, it could spread to Caelan instead of being purified. You could both become plague carriers."
"That's not an option," I said immediately.
"Neither is watching you die," Caelan countered. "We do the ritual. Together."
"Wait!" Lyra held up a hand. "There's one more thing you should know. To perform the Elemental Purification, you need a third person. Someone to guide the magic and maintain the balance. Someone with ancient healing knowledge."
"You," Caelan said.
"Me," Lyra agreed. "Which means I'd be risking infection too. If this goes wrong, all three of us could die."
"Why would you risk that for me?" I asked.
Lyra's smile was sad and wise. "Because you remind me of myself, a hundred years ago. Broken, lost, convinced I was beyond saving. Someone offered me unconditional friendship then. Changed my entire life. Now I'm passing it forward."
Before I could respond, an explosion rocked the study.
The window shattered. A figure landed in a crouch amid the glass—dressed in black, face covered, radiating shadow magic.
But this wasn't a plague victim. This was a trained assassin.
"Message from Grandmother Nyx," the assassin hissed. "Two days left, Princess. Then we come with an army. And this time, we won't just infect your people. We'll slaughter them."
The assassin threw something at Caelan—a black crystal pulsing with dark magic.
"No!" I dove, knocking Caelan aside.
The crystal hit me instead.
Pain exploded through my body. Not plague corruption. Something worse. Something that latched onto my magic like a parasite.
I screamed.
"A tracking curse!" Lyra lunged forward, but the assassin was already gone, vanishing through the broken window. "They've marked you! Now they can find you anywhere!"
Caelan caught me as I collapsed. "What does that mean?"
"It means Keira just became a beacon," Lyra said grimly. "Every Shadow Covenant assassin on the continent now knows exactly where she is. They'll come for her. All of them."
The curse burned through my veins like fire. And in the pain, I heard Grandmother Nyx's voice, clear as if she stood beside me:
"Run all you want, my lightning blade. You're mine. You've always been mine. And in two days, I'm coming to collect my property."