The forest had never been so quiet.
Lyra stood at the edge of the ravine, the golden shard cradled in her palm like a living heart. The moment it flared, her knees almost gave out — not from fear, but from recognition. The pulse thrummed in rhythm with her own, every beat echoing through her bones.
Kian.
She didn't remember his face clearly, but the feeling was undeniable. A surge of warmth, of grief, of something older than her name. It pulled at her like gravity, both cruel and tender.
The wind carried whispers again, threading through the pines.
He stirs beyond the veil.
The forgotten one remembers.
Her breath came shallow. "Then the seal—"
Is weakening.
The words weren't spoken. They were simply there, vibrating in her skull like the hum of an ancient bell. The golden shard shivered, scattering light over her fingers.
And then she felt it — a tremor under her feet.
The earth exhaled.
For centuries, the veil between realms had held firm — invisible but absolute. But now, the air rippled like water disturbed by touch. Trees flickered between shapes, roots bled silver, and stars seemed to flicker in the soil itself.
The world was unraveling.
Miles away, in his own kingdom of shadow and frost, Kian stood at the center of the ruins — the same forest clearing where the crystal had burned through his hand. His vision blurred with light and memory.
He saw flashes now: Lyra standing in the rain, her laughter defying the storm; the night he had sworn to protect her; the moment everything went dark.
Every fragment hurt.
Aiden's voice reached him through the roar of the wind. "Alpha! We need to get you back—"
"Do you feel that?" Kian's tone was low, reverent, almost afraid.
"What?"
"The air—it's… alive."
Lightning split the sky. Not white, but gold.
The same gold that burned in the mark on Kian's wrist.
When he raised his hand, the lightning bent toward him, coiling through the clouds like a living serpent.
"Kian!" Aiden grabbed his shoulder, but the touch made him flinch as light arced between them, leaving scorch marks on the ground.
Kian's voice was barely human when he said, "She's breaking through."
In the Realm Beyond, the high mages of the Veil Tower felt the disturbance too.
Crystals shattered mid-air. The runes etched into the walls began to glow — not white, but the forbidden gold of the ancient bond.
The Archmage turned, her expression frozen. "It cannot be."
Her second-in-command bowed his head, trembling. "It is. The Lyrian tether has awakened."
"Seal it again. Now, before the path completes."
"We can't. The magic is answering a living bond."
"Then kill one of them."
The silence that followed was heavy, unholy.
Back in the mortal forest, Lyra felt the shift like a blade to the chest. Pain tore through her, not physical but something deeper — a wound between worlds. The mark on her shoulder flared, its light searing through the fabric of her cloak.
"Kian," she whispered, eyes wide with tears. "They'll come for you."
But the forest didn't echo this time. It listened.
Branches bent toward her like they understood. The earth pulsed with the same rhythm as her heart, offering her strength that wasn't hers.
She closed her eyes. "Then I'll reach you first."
The shard brightened until it was almost blinding, the light expanding outward, cracking the air itself. When Lyra stepped forward, her body passed through the veil as if the world itself had inhaled her.
The night fractured.
Kian looked up just in time to see the tear in the sky split open above the clearing. Gold and shadow collided, swirling like storm clouds born of memory and longing.
From within the light, a silhouette emerged — fragile, trembling, beautiful in its defiance.
The veil screamed as it tore apart.
And for one suspended breath, Kian forgot everything: his name, his pack, his fear.
He only saw her.
Then the light imploded.
The shockwave hurled him backward into darkness.
When he opened his eyes again, the world was silent — the trees scorched, the air trembling with leftover magic. The mark on his wrist still glowed faintly, and in the ashes beside him lay a single golden feather, humming softly.
He picked it up, breath shaking.
"Lyra," he whispered, voice raw.
The feather pulsed once, then stilled.
And somewhere in the torn silence between worlds, she whispered back—
Find me before they do.