Kiera's POV
I throw myself sideways as the dagger slices through the air where my chest was a heartbeat ago.
Mom lands in a crouch, wings flaring, eyes wild with something that looks like grief and madness mixed together.
"Mom, stop!" I scramble backward. "What are you doing?"
"Saving you the only way I can." Her voice breaks. "I'm so sorry, baby. I'm so sorry."
She lunges again.
Davian grabs a chair and swings it at her. She dodges easily, spinning mid-air, and her wing catches him across the chest. He crashes into the bookshelf with a grunt.
"This isn't about you, boy," Mom snarls. "Stay down."
"Like hell." Davian pushes himself up, breathing hard. "Kiera, run!"
"Where? The doors are locked!" I back toward the window she came through. Glass crunches under my feet. Wind howls through the opening, carrying the scent of void storms.
Mom advances slowly, dagger raised. "I know what they told you. That I abandoned you. That I'm a monster. Maybe I am. But everything I've done—faking my death, attacking that facility, coming here now—it's all been to protect you from what's inside you."
"What's inside me?" My back hits the window frame. Nowhere left to go. "Mom, I don't understand—"
"You're not human anymore, Kiera. Haven't been since before you were born." Tears stream down her face. "The Void Speaker experimented on you when I was pregnant. Wove void magic into your DNA. Made you a weapon that will either destroy the world or reshape it. There's no middle ground."
"Then help me fight him! Don't kill me!"
"I tried fighting him. For twenty years I tried." Her hand trembles but the dagger stays level. "He's too powerful. Too connected to the void itself. The only way to stop his plan is to remove his weapon. To remove you."
The words hurt worse than any blade could.
"You really believe that?" I whisper. "That I'm just a weapon? Not your daughter?"
Mom's face crumples. "You're my daughter. My baby girl. That's why this is the hardest thing I've ever had to do. That's why I couldn't—"
An explosion shakes the entire estate.
Not close. Distant. But massive enough that the floor tilts under our feet.
Mom's head snaps toward the sound. "No. Not yet. It's too soon—"
Another explosion. Closer this time. The study's remaining windows blow inward, showering us with glass.
Alarms shriek throughout the estate. Servants scream. And beneath it all, a sound like the world breaking—stone grinding against stone, metal tearing, the groan of something massive failing.
"The Southern Quarter Skyheart," Davian gasps. He's pulled himself to the window, staring out at the city. "It's gone dark."
I push past Mom to look.
The southern section of Aethercrest—an entire district containing thousands of homes—tilts sideways. Buildings slide off their foundations. Streets crack open. And people, tiny dots from this distance, fall screaming into the purple void below.
Horror freezes me in place.
"They're dying," I breathe. "All those people—"
"It's begun." Mom's voice is hollow. "The Void Speaker said he'd wait three days. He lied. He's starting the collapse now."
Another explosion. The estate shudders violently. Books cascade from shelves. The communication crystal on Lord Silvercrest's desk shatters, void energy dissipating into smoke.
"We have to help them!" I spread my wings, ready to launch through the window.
Davian grabs my arm. "You can't. Look!"
He points to the Southern Quarter. Void energy pours from the dead Skyheart like purple blood, spreading across the district in waves. Anyone it touches screams and falls, wings seizing up, bodies going rigid.
"Void poisoning," Mom says quietly. "If you fly into that, your wings will fail. You'll fall with them."
"I can't just stand here and watch!"
"You have to." She sheathes her dagger, grief and determination warring on her face. "This is why I wanted to end you quickly. Mercifully. Because this—" she gestures to the dying district, "—is what the Void Speaker wants. He's forcing your awakening. Trauma activates Skyweaver powers. The more you suffer, the more you witness, the faster you'll transform into what he needs."
Another section of the Southern Quarter breaks away completely. The sound of thousands of people screaming fills the air even from here.
I can't breathe. Can't think. Can't process the horror unfolding before my eyes.
"How do we stop it?" Davian's voice cuts through my paralysis. "The Skyheart—can we restart it?"
"Not without a Skyweaver." Mom looks at me. "And if Kiera touches it now, while it's flooded with void energy, she'll either stabilize it or destroy herself trying. Both outcomes serve the Void Speaker's purposes."
"So there's no solution," I say numbly. "Everyone in that district dies no matter what."
"Everyone in that district was already dead the moment he chose them for the demonstration." Mom's wings fold tight against her back. "This is what he does. Orchestrates disasters to break people. To force awakenings. To create weapons."
The study door explodes inward.
Guards pour in, shock-sticks raised. Lord Silvercrest follows, looking remarkably calm for someone whose city is literally falling apart.
"Lyra Ashwind," he says pleasantly. "I wondered when you'd make your move. Bit dramatic, don't you think? Breaking through windows like a common criminal?"
"Says the man murdering thousands," Mom snarls.
"Not murdering. Culling. The Southern Quarter was mostly Windborn anyway. Lower class. Expendable." He gestures to the guards. "Seize her."
Mom's wings snap open. "Touch me and I'll kill half of you before you bring me down."
"Probably." Lord Silvercrest pulls out a tablet. "But while you're fighting, this trigger activates the explosive I had planted in your daughter's friend's cell. What was her name? Sera?"
Ice floods my veins. "You said you released her."
"I lied. She's in my private detention facility. Very secure. Very isolated. Very explodable." He smiles. "Surrender, Lyra, or I press this button and dear Sera learns what void energy does to living flesh."
Mom's face goes pale. She looks at me, then at the tablet, then back to me.
"Don't," I beg. "Mom, don't give up—"
"I've been giving up for twenty years." She lowers her wings. "What's one more surrender?"
The guards swarm her. Shock-sticks crack across her back, her wings, her legs. She doesn't fight. Just takes it, eyes locked on mine.
"I'm sorry," she mouths as they drag her away. "I'm so sorry."
Then she's gone.
Lord Silvercrest pockets the tablet. "Well. That was easier than expected. Though I suppose maternal love does make people predictable."
"Where's Sera?" I demand. "Let me see her. Prove she's alive."
"In time. First, we need to address the situation." He gestures to the window where the Southern Quarter continues its death spiral. "The Void Speaker moved up our timeline. The ritual must happen tonight instead of three days from now."
"Tonight?" Davian steps forward. "That's impossible. We need time to prepare, to translate the texts—"
"We'll improvise. The important thing is binding your power before another Skyheart fails." Lord Silvercrest's smile never wavers. "Guards are preparing the ritual chamber as we speak. You'll marry at sunset. Immediately after, we perform the ceremony."
"And if we refuse?" I ask.
"The Western Quarter fails next. Then the North. Then the East. By dawn, the entire city falls into the void." He checks his watch. "You have six hours to decide. Save yourself and doom the city, or sacrifice yourself and save millions. Choose wisely."
He leaves, guards following.
Davian and I stand alone in the ruined study, surrounded by broken glass and impossible choices.
"We can't let him do the ritual," Davian says. "Whatever it actually does, giving him that power will—"
"Kill millions anyway," I finish. "He's working with the Void Speaker. The ritual isn't about saving the city. It's about controlled destruction."
"Then we need another option. A third path."
I turn back to the window. The Southern Quarter is almost gone now, its buildings swallowed by void storms. How many people died while we stood here talking? Thousands? Tens of thousands?
And more will die unless we act.
"Your sister," I say slowly. "Elena. She has wings. That means she has Skyweaver potential, even if it's dormant."
"You can't ask her to—she's just a child—"
"I'm not asking her to do the ritual. I'm asking her to help me understand it." I face Davian. "Your father said the ritual requires Windborn and Skyborn in harmony. But what if we reverse it? What if instead of him stealing our power, we use the ritual to destroy his connection to the Void Speaker?"
"That's..." Davian's eyes widen. "That could work. If we can figure out how the ritual actually functions. If we can access the original texts instead of his altered versions."
"Where would those be?"
He's quiet for a moment. Then: "My mother's study. Father sealed it after she died, but I know where he keeps the key."
"Your mother," I say carefully. "The one he admitted to murdering."
"Yes." Something dark crosses Davian's face. "She was researching Skyweavers before she died. Father called it dangerous knowledge. Now I understand why."
Hope flickers in my chest. Small, fragile, but real.
"We have six hours," I say. "Show me her study. We'll find the real ritual. Figure out how to turn it into a weapon against him."
"And if we can't?"
"Then I guess we get married, destroy your father, and probably die in the process." I try to smile. Can't quite manage it. "Not the wedding I dreamed of as a kid, but it'll do."
Davian almost laughs. "You're insane."
"I'm desperate. There's a difference."
He moves to the door, testing the lock. Still sealed. "We'll need to pick this or find another way out."
I spread my wings. "Or we go out the way my mother came in."
"Through the window? That's a three-story drop—"
"Good thing I can fly then." I offer my hand. "Trust me?"
He looks at my hand. At my wings. At my face.
Then he takes my hand.
"Against all logic and self-preservation instinct, yes. I trust you."
I pull him close, wrapping my arms around his waist. "Hold tight. Don't let go. And try not to scream."
"I make no promises on that last part."
I launch us through the broken window.
For one glorious moment, we're flying—wind in my face, wings spreading wide, freedom singing in my veins.
Then void energy erupts from below, purple tendrils reaching up like grasping hands.
Someone's sabotaged the estate's protective barriers.
The void catches my wings, and we plummet toward the ground.
Davian screams.
I'm too busy trying not to die to blame him.
We're falling, falling, the ground rushing up—
Something catches us.
Not void energy. Something else. Silver light that feels warm and familiar and impossible.
We slow. Stop. Hover ten feet above the garden.
I look up.
Elena stands on a balcony above us, both hands outstretched, her small wings glowing with silver Skyweaver light.
"I've got you," she calls down. "But not for long. Whatever you're planning, do it fast!"
Davian and I hit the ground running.
Behind us, more explosions rock the city.
The Western Quarter's Skyheart begins to fail.
And somewhere in the chaos, my mother screams a warning I can't quite hear.
Six hours until the ritual.
Six hours to save a city, stop a madman, and somehow survive our own wedding.
No pressure.