The sanctuary had never felt so hollow.
The scent of smoke still clung to the stone walls, and the echo of mourning cries drifted through the corridors like a sorrowful wind. The dead had been buried at dawn, marked with runes of peace and rebirth. But peace was the one thing no one felt.
Lyra stood over the graves of the fallen, their names freshly carved into stone. Her fingers hovered above the last name—Elias, her youngest scout, only sixteen. He had died protecting pups from the fire.
A piece of her soul broke every time she remembered.
Kael stood a few paces behind her, silent, respectful. He hadn't tried to comfort her. Not with words. He knew she didn't need promises or pity. What she needed was truth.
"You don't have to do this alone," he said finally.
Lyra didn't look at him. "I wasn't supposed to do it alone. I trusted him."
Cassian's name never passed her lips—but it hung there, heavy in the silence.
"He made his choice," Kael said quietly.
"And I made mine," she replied. "I banished the only man who's never left me before."
Kael flinched but said nothing.
The truth was: Cassian's betrayal had cracked something deeper than her trust.
It had cracked her ability to believe in anyone completely.
Even Kael.
Even herself.
---
In the war room, Seris traced the burn marks across the sanctuary map.
"The Council retreated for now," she said. "But they'll return. And next time, they won't just come through tunnels. They'll come with monsters."
"Monsters?" Kael asked, his brows knitting.
Seris slid a parchment across the table. "Scouts intercepted this from the edge of the Gray Marsh."
Kael unfolded it slowly. His blood ran cold.
A sketch—rough but unmistakable—of a creature that wasn't fully wolf, nor man. A twisted hybrid with claws like obsidian and glowing red eyes.
He swallowed hard. "This isn't from the Council. This… this is from the Binder."
Lyra's head snapped up. "The man who gave you the pendant?"
Kael nodded. "He's not just a seer or sorcerer. He's something older. He knew things about the prophecy that no one should."
"Why would he help you?" Seris asked.
Kael's eyes darkened. "Because I'm not the only heir."
---
Later that night, Lyra climbed to the temple ruins where the Ritual of Flames had once marked her as Alpha.
The wind was stronger there, whistling through cracks in the stone like a warning.
She sat on the edge, staring at the stars.
Kael joined her, silent as always, and sat beside her.
"The Binder told me something once," he began. "When I escaped the Council's prison. He said, 'The crown isn't forged in gold. It's born in fire and shaped by betrayal.'"
Lyra laughed bitterly. "Then I must be halfway to royalty."
Kael smiled softly. "You're more than royalty. You're legend."
Lyra looked at him, her eyes tired but still fierce. "Don't flatter me. I've buried too many to feel like anything but broken."
"You're not broken," Kael said. "You're burned. There's a difference."
She stared at him.
"I want to believe you," she whispered. "But part of me still wonders… if I forgive you, if I love you again, will I survive it a second time?"
Kael didn't reach for her hand. He didn't press.
He just said, "Then let me prove it. Every day, until you don't have to wonder anymore."
---
Far away, Cassian wandered the Frostpine Pass—exiled, alone, hunted.
He hadn't eaten in two days. His body ached. His soul was heavier than the pack he carried.
But what hurt the most was the silence where her voice used to be.
He remembered Lyra's face when she banished him.
"You lost yourself."
She was right.
And now he had no one to blame but himself.
A figure appeared through the mist.
Cassian froze, hand moving toward his blade.
But the figure didn't strike. Instead, it knelt.
And then spoke.
"We've been watching you, Cassian of the Broken Flame."
He narrowed his eyes. "Who are you?"
The figure removed their hood.
A woman—tall, with raven-black hair and pale blue eyes that glowed faintly.
"I am Maren," she said. "Daughter of the Binder."
Cassian's breath caught.
"I know what you seek," Maren continued. "Redemption. Power. A way back into her heart."
Cassian's fists clenched. "That path is closed."
"Not if you change the prophecy," she whispered.
He stared at her.
"There is more to the Flame than you know. Come with me… and I'll show you."
---
Back in the sanctuary, Lyra dreamed.
But it wasn't a peaceful sleep.
She stood in a field of ash, the moon above her blood-red and burning. In front of her, Kael knelt—his hands bound, his throat slashed open.
And beside him…
Cassian.
Not as she remembered him.
But with silver eyes and blood running from his palms.
"You chose wrong," he whispered.
Then everything turned to fire.
Lyra woke gasping, drenched in sweat.
Kael was already by her side. "Another vision?"
She nodded. "But it wasn't mine alone. It was from the Moonseer."
Kael's brow furrowed. "You're saying it was a warning?"
Lyra nodded again. "The prophecy isn't finished. There's a second betrayal."
Kael's voice was hoarse. "A fourth betrayal?"
"No…" she said slowly, voice chilling, "a second Cassian."
---
The next morning, Lyra called a council of the remaining leaders.
"We rebuild," she announced. "Not just our walls, but our alliances. There are other rogue packs out there—packs who hate the Council but fear uniting."
"And if they refuse?" asked Seris.
Lyra's eyes glinted. "Then we remind them what it means to follow fire."
She turned to Kael.
"You'll go west. Find the Crescent Moon Pack. Tell them I'm calling the Flame."
Kael inclined his head. "And if they try to kill me?"
"Then remind them whose blood runs in your veins."
---
As the sanctuary began repairs, Lyra found herself standing before the old stone mirror in the temple crypt.
The mirror was said to be enchanted—once belonging to the Moonseer herself. A tool of prophecy, of truth.
She touched the glass.
It rippled.
And then an image appeared—not of the future, but the present.
Cassian.
Kneeling in a circle of fire.
Before a woman cloaked in black feathers.
"You can't change fate," Lyra whispered.
But the voice that answered came not from her lips—but the mirror.
"No. But you can bend it,
If you are willing to bleed."