Clara POV
The war council disbanded in wary silence, their footsteps receding like echoes in a tomb. I lingered in the chamber, staring at the rune-burned maps, the delicate lines drawn between life and death. Every decision felt like a blade pressed to my throat—one slip and the kingdom would bleed.
Kira lingered at my side, her presence a constant reminder that loyalty could be sharper than any sword. She said nothing, only watched me with eyes that saw too much.
"They doubt you," she finally said.
"I know," I replied, tracing the rune on the map with trembling fingers. "And they should. I'm not the girl they crowned."
"No," she said. "You're the one who'll keep us alive."
I didn't respond. I couldn't. My mind was with Ryker, with the mark Sora spoke of, with the price I would pay.
A knock at the council doors. Sharp. Insistent.
"Enter," I called.
A scout stumbled in, his cloak stained with soot and blood. He collapsed to one knee, gasping. "Your Majesty," he panted. "A message—from the eastern watchtowers."
I felt Kira tense beside me. "Speak."
The scout lifted his head, eyes wild. "The Shadowborn—" His voice cracked. "They've taken the towers. All of them. Not just raiders this time—an army."
My heart clenched. "How many?"
"Thousands," he whispered. "And something else—a figure in black armor leading them. Eyes like coals. He… he said the Cradle belongs to him now."
Dorian.
A cold fury rose in my chest, settling like iron in my bones. "Send word to the western outposts," I ordered. "Tell them to seal the passes. No one moves without my leave."
Kira placed a hand on my shoulder. "Clara," she murmured, "if Dorian's moving this fast—he's after more than territory."
I met her gaze. "He wants the Cradle's ower."
"And Ryker," she said quietly. "He'll want him too."
A shudder ran through me, the bond flaring like a brand on my soul. Ryker. Still out there. Changed, but alive.
Alive.
"Ready the wolves," I said, voice low. "We hunt tonight. If Dorian thinks he can take the Cradle—he'll learn the fire still burns."
Kira's smile was a dangerous thing. "I'll see to it."
She turned and left, her cloak snapping behind her like a challenge to the darkness.
I stood alone for a moment, the air thick with the weight of choice.
Him or the flame.
Sora's voice haunted me. One would save the kingdom. The other would save me.
I didn't know which I feared more.
A sound behind me—light, hesitant. I spun, hand on my dagger.
A small figure stood in the doorway, draped in a healer's robe. "Your Majesty," she whispered. "Sora's awake again."
My breath caught. "Take me to her."
The healer nodded, eyes wide with fear.
I followed her through the corridors, the citadel shifting around me like a living thing. Shadows slithered in the corners, and every flickering torch felt like a promise of betrayal.
We reached Sora's chamber. Fen stood guard, his face carved from stone. He stepped aside wordlessly, eyes hollow from sleepless nights.
Inside, Sora lay propped on pillows, her skin pale as snow, her hair tangled with sweat. Her eyes found mine—two orbs of eerie brightness that saw too much.
"Clara," she rasped.
I knelt beside her, taking her cold hand in mine. "I'm here."
Her lips trembled. "The Cradle's not what you think. It's older. Darker. It's not just prophecy—it's a prison. And Dorian means to open it."
My blood ran cold. "Open it? For what?"
"For what lies beneath," she whispered. "And Ryker—he's the key. He carries the mark, but so do you. Together, you could seal it. Or… unleash it."
A tear slid down her cheek. "Clara, you have to choose. Before the eclipse."
My heart stuttered. "What happens at the eclipse?"
Her eyes rolled back. Her body convulsed, her fingers locking around mine. Shadows poured from her mouth, her veins turning black.
"Clara!" Kira's voice rang behind me as she burst into the room.
I fought to hold Sora down, my own power surging, the Aether searing through my veins. "Sora! Stay with me!
But her body shuddered once—twice—and then went still.
A long silence.
I stared down at her lifeless form, her lips still parted in a final breath.
Kira's voice broke, quiet and raw. "She's gone."
I felt the weight of destiny settle on my shoulders like a mantle of ice.
Kira's hand found my arm. "What now?"
I rose slowly, fire and grief coiling within me like a living thing.
"Now?" I said. My voice was iron. "We stop Dorian. We save Ryker. And if the Cradle must burn to end this—I'll set the world alight."
The wind howled through the broken window, carrying the promise of war.
And so I turned from Sora's still form, my cloak swirling like embers in the storm.
The eclipse was coming.
And with it—my choice.I stood at Sora's side, every muscle trembling from the strain of holding back the shadows. The echoes of her final warning rang in my mind: The Cradle's not what you think. It's older. Darker. Not just prophecy—it's a prison.
And Dorian meant to open it.
A prison for what?
My stomach churned as I reached out, brushing a lock of Sora's hair from her cooling forehead. She had given everything—her mind, her strength—to bring me this truth. And now she was gone.
Kira's hand pressed lightly on my shoulder, grounding me in the present. "Clara," she said, voice low, "if what she said is true—if Ryker's the key—then Dorian will come for him. And for you."
The bond between Ryker and me flared again, sharper this time, like a knife against my ribs. He was close—too close. And yet too far.
I straightened, every inch of me taut with resolve. "We have to move," I said, voice hardening. "If Dorian takes the Cradle, he'll have power no mortal—or immortal—should hold. We can't let that happen."
Kira's eyes burned with the same fire I felt in my veins. "Then we strike first," she said. "We find Ryker. We bring him home. And we close the Cradle for good."
I nodded, a tremor running through me. Him or the flame. Sora's words were a blade I couldn't ignore. "Send the ravens," I ordered. "Summon the Wolves. I want every den ready. We ride at dusk."
Kira bowed her head, hand on her heart. "As you command."
She turned and left, her footsteps echoing in the corridor like the drumbeats of war.
I lingered for a breath, one hand on the cold stone wall. The wind hissed through the shattered window, carrying the scent of rain and blood. Outside, storm clouds gathered, bruising the horizon.