CHAPTER 27
The moment the king's fingers closed around that pulsing blue heart, time fractured.
Lyr's scream wasn't sound—it was a physical force that shattered every remaining window. His body convulsed as black veins erupted across his skin like cracks in porcelain. The necrosis wasn't spreading anymore—it was multiplying, branching across his flesh in fractal patterns that mirrored the glowing runes on the dead creature's wings.
I clutched my own chest as Aurora's heart gave a sympathetic lurch. The blue flames surrounding me flared brighter, whispering secrets in a language I shouldn't understand but did:
"He's killing the anchor...the tether must hold..."
Sey's shadows recoiled from Lyr's thrashing form like snakes from fire. "What did you do?" he demanded of the king, his voice raw.
King Veyrian smiled. It was the most terrifying thing I'd ever seen.
"Ensured my legacy," he said simply, opening his fist.
The heart was gone.
Only blue dust remained, swirling in some unfelt wind before coalescing into the shape of a winged woman above the throne. The specter's hollow eyes locked onto me, and suddenly I knew:
This was no mere ghost.
This was a claim.
Yassie moved first. His broken sword flashed gold as he swung at the apparition—and passed right through. The moment the blade crossed the specter's form, his tattoo exploded in light. The star-shaped mark tore free of his skin, becoming a physical object that clattered to the floor—a tiny, five-pointed star made of what looked like solidified sunlight.
The king laughed. "Oh, Yassander. My ever-loyal son. Did you truly believe your little ward could protect you?" He kicked the star aside. "The Phoenix gave you that trinket to hide from her, not from me."
The specter lunged.
Not for me.
For Yassie.
I moved without thinking. Blue fire arced from my fingertips, forming a shield between him and the winged woman. The moment the flames touched her, she screamed—the same world-ending shriek the creature had made, but layered with something worse:
Recognition.
The specter recoiled, her form flickering between the winged woman and...someone else. Someone smaller. Younger.
A girl with Yassie's eyes.
"Elara?" Yassie whispered, his voice breaking.
The king's smile vanished. "Enough." He snapped his fingers.
The specter solidified back into the winged woman and attacked—not Yassie this time, but Lyr's convulsing form. Her blue hands plunged into his chest—
And pulled.
Lyr's back arched impossibly high as something *pearlescent* began emerging from his sternum. Not a heart.
A key.
Sey was moving before I could blink, his shadows forming a massive blade. "You won't take another one," he snarled—
And plunged the weapon straight through Lyr's chest.
The throne room froze.
Lyr's eyes met Sey's. Not with betrayal.
With gratitude.
Then he exploded.
Not in gore—in light. A shockwave of gold and blue radiated outward, obliterating the specter, sending the king stumbling back. When the glare faded, Lyr was gone.
Where he'd stood, five objects now hovered in midair:
1. A crumbling star-shaped ward (Yassie's shattered protection)
2. A lock of white hair tied with blue string (Elara's?)
3. A dagger made of shadow (Sey's manifested grief)
4. A single scale like molten gold (Lyr's last gift)
5. And at the center...
A tiny, beating heart.
Mine.
Not Aurora's.
Mine.
The king's face twisted in rage. "You insects," he hissed. "Do you have any idea what you've—"
The doors behind him burst open again.
A woman stood there—tall, regal, her dark hair streaked with silver. The moment she entered, the floating objects reacted, swirling around her in a slow orbit.
"Hello, husband," said the queen.
And in her hands—
A sixth heart.
Black as void.
Beating backward.