The world reformed like a half-forgotten dream, coalescing into cold stone beneath Lyra's knees. Her hands were braced against the floor of the Sanctum, breath coming in shallow bursts. She tasted copper. The echo had pulled her under—ripped through her defenses, stripped away her walls. Now she was whole again.
And she remembered.
Everything.
Lucien stood across from her, shoulders rigid, his expression unreadable. The golden shimmer in his irises hadn't faded yet, and his jaw was clenched like he was forcing himself to stay silent.
Kai had dropped to one knee nearby, hands trembling as he pressed them to his temples. He, too, had been pulled through the torrent of memory—but his visions, Lyra sensed, had been of loss more than betrayal.
Silence pressed in.
The Sanctum waited.
Serana observed them quietly from the edge of the room. "You've seen the truth. The lives you led. The oaths you broke."
Lucien finally spoke, his voice hoarse. "It wasn't just one betrayal. It was layered… complex. And in the end, it wasn't the Wraiths who brought the kingdom down."
"No," Lyra murmured. "It was us."
She saw it clearly now: the glimmering court of High Arion, where golden towers rose above seas of fog. She had been the Seer of the Crown, beloved by the people, trusted by the king. And Lucien—Lucien had been the Commander of the Veilguard, protector of the royal line, her closest friend… and something more.
They had loved in secret.
But the king—twisted by his obsession with eternal life—had opened the Veil without care for consequence. Lyra had foreseen the danger, seen glimpses of ruin in fire and shadow, but said nothing. Because her love for Lucien had tethered her too tightly to her role, to her fear of being cast out as a traitor. And Lucien—he had protected the king, even when the signs had grown too clear to ignore.
Their silence had allowed the breach.
And from it, the Wraiths had emerged.
"Did we… die trying to stop him?" Kai asked. "Or did we just run?"
Lucien didn't answer.
It was Lyra who said, "We died in the palace. I remember now. On the day the sky bled. You tried to reach the king. I tried to seal the Veil. But it was too late."
Serana stepped forward. "And yet you returned. Reborn. Bound to this time and place because your souls carry the weight of that unfinished act. You were given another chance."
"But why now?" Lucien asked. "Why fifteen years ago? Why rebirth at all?"
"Because the breach is growing again," Serana said. "The Wraiths have regained their foothold. The Veil cracks anew, and those who remember—those who still owe—are drawn back to the cycle."
Lyra's hands curled into fists. "We failed once. How are we meant to stop what we couldn't before?"
Serana walked toward the orb, her fingers brushing its smooth surface. "Because this time, you are not alone. The Order of Shattered Light was formed from others who remembered fragments—those who survived the first collapse. We have prepared. And with you awakened, the final seals can be reforged."
Lucien turned to Lyra. His gaze was no longer guarded. "Do you trust me?"
She hesitated.
In the visions, she had seen his hesitation at the gates, his unwillingness to kill the king even when it was clear there was no other way. His love had made him weak, as hers had made her silent.
But now…
"Yes," she said finally. "I trust you."
Kai exhaled, his voice dry. "Well, I don't know what the hell either of you were in your past lives, but I'll be damned if I let a bunch of soul-eating nightmares tear this world apart. So count me in."
Serana's mouth curved into a rare smile. "Good. Then the pact must be renewed."
She turned, lifting her staff high. The crystal atop it flared, sending silver light arcing through the chamber. Runes along the floor lit up in a spiral, centering on Lyra, Lucien, and Kai.
"This is not a spell," Serana intoned. "It is a vow reborn."
The runes pulsed with warmth, and Lyra felt it—a connection forming between them. Not just memories, but intent. Magic layered with purpose, fate tightening its threads around their souls.
"In light and shadow," Serana chanted, "by fire and memory, you are bound anew. Not as who you were, but as who you have become. The fate that broke you will now become the fate you defy."
The runes flashed.
Lyra's chest felt lighter. Not empty—clean.
Lucien nodded slowly. "Then we begin again."
But even as the vow settled, a sharp crack split the air.
A fracture appeared in the crystal wall behind the orb—spider-web thin, but humming with sickly violet light.
Serana's eyes narrowed. "They've found us."
A cold wind howled through the chamber, carrying a whisper of voices not meant for the living.
Kai drew his dagger. "Wraiths?"
"No," Serana said grimly. "Something older. Something angry."
From the crack, a shape began to emerge—skeletal fingers clawing forward, followed by a face wrapped in silk and shadow, eyes burning with green fire.
Lucien stepped in front of Lyra instinctively. "Not again," he growled.
Lyra lifted her staff.
And for the first time in two lives, she no longer hesitated.