The air in the rogue sanctuary had changed.
Lyra could feel it in the way whispers trailed after her. Eyes lingered longer. Even the shadows seemed tighter. Her confrontation with Kael had shaken the valley—word had traveled fast.
Some called her bold. Some called her cursed.
But no one doubted now that she was dangerous.
She stood in the stone courtyard, sparring with Cassian, their blades clashing in flashes of silver. Each swing was harder, faster. Cassian blocked with fluid grace, but Lyra was learning.
She wasn't just fast—she was feral.
Cassian broke the clash, spinning away and pointing his blade at her heart. "You're getting stronger."
Lyra smirked, sweat running down her brow. "You're getting slower."
He chuckled. "That's how you treat your mentor?"
She lowered her blade, heart still racing. "You're more like a bodyguard I tolerate."
He arched a brow. "Harsh."
But she was smiling—and that smile vanished when Seris stormed into the courtyard, her cloak billowing, and a rolled scroll clutched in her hand.
"They know," Seris said, voice tight.
Cassian's humor dropped instantly. "The Council?"
Seris handed him the scroll. "Sealed with the High Elder's mark. They've sent a summons."
Lyra stepped forward. "A summons for me?"
"No," Seris said grimly. "For your execution."
---
In the war chamber beneath the sanctuary, rogue leaders gathered.
The room buzzed with tension. Maps were spread across the stone table, surrounded by wolves who had once been enemies—but now stood united under Lyra's rising banner.
"The Council claims she's a threat to supernatural peace," said Seris. "They accuse her of resurrecting forbidden bloodlines and conspiring with rogue factions."
Cassian's jaw tightened. "Of course they do. She refuses to bow."
Lyra sat at the head of the table. For the first time, no one questioned it.
"They're afraid of me," she said. "They should be."
"But they won't wait long," Seris said. "They'll send enforcers. Maybe even bounty packs. They'll offer gold, immunity—anything to bring you in."
Lyra nodded slowly. "Then we don't give them the chance."
Cassian looked at her. "What are you thinking?"
"We go to them," she said. "Not to bow. Not to beg. We go to show them I'm not hiding anymore."
The room fell silent.
One of the younger rogues, Lio, frowned. "You want to walk into Council territory?"
"I want to make them look me in the eyes when they try to erase me," Lyra replied. "Let them feel the weight of what they fear."
"You won't make it past the borders," Seris warned. "They'll kill you before you reach the gates."
"Not if I have something they want," she said.
Cassian's eyes narrowed. "Lyra…"
"I know what I'm doing."
But even as she said it, the pit in her stomach grew colder.
Because there was one thing she hadn't told anyone—not even Cassian.
Someone inside the sanctuary had leaked her location to the Council.
She could feel it.
And she intended to find out who.
---
That night, Lyra stood in the underground vault, staring at the ancient Moonblood relics—blades, scrolls, and a shimmering pendant that once belonged to her ancestor.
She picked it up, running her thumb over the carved moonstone.
Her reflection shimmered in the polished surface—and behind it, she saw movement.
She turned sharply.
A girl stood in the doorway.
Small. Pale. Nervous.
Her name was Mira, one of the messengers. She had served the sanctuary for two years, quiet and loyal.
Lyra relaxed. "You shouldn't be down here."
Mira bowed her head. "I wanted to speak with you. Alone."
Lyra raised an eyebrow. "About?"
Mira stepped closer, hands trembling. "There's something you need to know. About the message Seris received."
Lyra stiffened. "Go on."
Mira took a breath. "The seal on that scroll—it's real, yes. But the parchment wasn't Council standard. And the ink… it smelled of rosemary."
Lyra blinked. "Meaning?"
"Someone here forged it. Someone wants you to believe the Council's coming before they actually are."
Lyra's blood ran cold.
A setup.
She moved fast, closing the distance between them. "Why are you telling me this?"
Mira's eyes welled with tears. "Because I didn't come here to be part of a war. I came here to be free. I don't want to see you die for a lie."
Lyra stepped back, mind racing.
Someone inside was pulling strings.
But who?
---
Meanwhile, in a shadowed grove outside the valley, a figure knelt before a holographic projection.
It flickered—a tall, thin man in fine robes, wearing the emblem of the Elder Council.
"She's ready to move," the figure said. "But she suspects something."
"She always was clever," the Councilman replied. "Does she know you're feeding us her every move?"
"No," said the figure. "She trusts me."
"Good. Keep her close. When the time comes, deliver her to us."
The figure nodded.
Then turned their face slightly—revealing Rika, one of Cassian's lieutenants.
---
Back in the sanctuary, Lyra called a private meeting with Seris and Cassian.
She told them everything.
The fake seal. Mira's warning.
Cassian was furious.
"Someone in our ranks is working with the Council?"
Lyra nodded. "And they're good at it. Careful. Manipulative."
Seris folded her arms. "It would explain why our supply routes have been ambushed lately. Why your presence here was never fully hidden."
Lyra paced. "We have to root them out before I take another step."
Cassian looked at her. "You still plan to go?"
"I have to. But on my terms."
---
Days later, Lyra left the valley under the cover of night with Cassian and three trusted warriors.
They took a longer route—one that avoided the border watchtowers and passed through the ruins of an old temple long forgotten by most packs.
They reached the outskirts of Council territory after three days of silence and stealth.
The energy shifted immediately.
Lyra could feel it in her bones.
Magic. Old, oppressive. Heavy like chains.
"This is it," she whispered.
Cassian placed a hand on her shoulder. "You don't have to do this alone."
But she shook her head. "Yes, I do. The Council needs to see me without distractions. Without backup. I need them to know I'm not hiding behind anyone anymore."
Cassian's jaw tightened, but he nodded.
"If you're not back by dawn, I'll come for you."
Lyra gave him a faint smile. "Of course you will."
---
She stepped through the wards at midnight.
The moment she crossed the line, the air hissed—magic flaring, signaling her presence.
Within minutes, a group of warriors appeared in a ring of blue fire.
They pointed blades at her.
One of them stepped forward. "Lyra Duskbane. You are charged with defiance, awakening forbidden magic, and threatening supernatural balance."
Lyra didn't flinch. "Then take me to the ones who made the laws."
They escorted her in silence, blindfolding her, binding her wrists.
But even with her vision taken, she felt everything.
The fear.
The tension.
The respect.
They feared what she might become—and that meant she had already won part of the battle.
---
Inside the Grand Hall, Lyra was unbound and pushed to her knees before the High Council—six Elders seated in a circle, their faces hidden behind bone-white masks.
The central figure stood.
"We did not summon you, girl."
"I know," Lyra said. "I came to remind you who I am."
"You are nothing but a mistake. A survivor of a cursed bloodline."
"I'm the Moon's heir," she said calmly. "And I'm not asking for recognition. I'm giving you a choice."
The room fell silent.
"Let the past die," she continued. "Or face what's coming."
The Elders murmured among themselves.
Then the central one laughed—a sound cold and hollow.
"You think your little rebellion matters?"
Lyra's mark flared, casting silver light across the chamber.
"I know it does."