The city didn't erupt into chaos.
It shifted—slowly, but powerfully. Like waking from a dream you didn't realize you were trapped inside.
Threadveils flickered with new colors. Council walls lost their glow. And everywhere, the Marked stepped forward—no longer hiding, no longer running.
Kael vanished that morning, off to rally the outer districts.
Riven and I stood on the highest balcony of the Threadspire, looking down at a city caught between fear and freedom.
"I thought it would feel louder," I whispered.
"It's the quiet before the storm," he replied. "They'll either accept what we've done…"
"Or try to erase us for it."
That's when I felt it.
A ripple—not in threadlight, but inside my chest. Like a memory surfacing out of order.
And then—a voice.
> "You always had a gift for breaking things, Sera."
I spun.
A figure stood in the corridor beyond the balcony. Cloaked in woven black, face familiar in a way that made my breath catch.
No.
It couldn't be.
"Lyra?"
She stepped into the light.
My sister. My dead sister.
The one they told me was burned at the Marking Pyres.
But her eyes burned with threadlight now—pale gold and sharp.
"You left me," I said, voice cracking.
"I was taken," she snapped. "Made into something else. Something… useful."
Riven stepped in front of me instinctively.
"Easy," Lyra said with a cruel smile. "I'm not here to kill you. Not yet. But the Council wasn't the only one afraid of your bond."
I swallowed hard. "What do you mean?"
She tossed a black-threaded coin at my feet. "The Fracture Court has risen. The ones exiled for loving beyond their marks. The ones who want revenge—not change."
I looked at her. "And you?"
Her voice softened, almost sad.
"I'm the warning."
And with that—she vanished, threads unraveling into wind.
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