The wind howled through the towering pines of Eldermoor Forest carrying the scent of ash and blood. Shadows danced like ghosts across the ground, and the trees whispered secrets too old for men to remember. The moon hung low, its pale light fractured by drifting mist. Somewhere, far beyond the hills, the war drums beat their steady, ominous rhythm.
Kael Draven tightened his grip on the worn hilt of his dagger, his breath ragged in the cold night air. His village had burned behind him reduced to smoldering cinders by monstrous things that no mortal tongue dared name. He should have died alongside them. Yet here he was, fleeing into the cursed forest where no sane man walked after sundown.
His heart thundered in his chest, every muscle screaming for rest, but something deeper pulled him forward a voice, soft and ancient, like a forgotten lullaby in a language he didn't know he understood.
"Come to me, Kael..."
He stumbled to a clearing bathed in eerie silver light. And there, at the heart of it, knelt a girl.
She was unlike any woman he had ever seen. Raven-black hair spilled over her shoulders like liquid night. Her skin shimmered like moonstone, her lips stained the color of crushed wine berries. A blood-red mark coiled around her wrist a sigil of the Duskborne.
A Demon,
His first instinct was to raise his dagger. His second was to drop it. The war between their clans had written his childhood in hunger and fear. Yet, in that moment, all Kael could see were her eyes. Storm-grey and endless.
They met his gaze, unflinching.
"You're bleeding," she said softly.
Kael glanced down. A gash on his side he hadn't even felt. He grunted, unwilling to show weakness.
"I've had worse."
"Liar."
She rose to her feet, a graceful, deadly thing, like a dagger drawn beneath silk. Her hand brushed against his. A jolt of something electric passed between them a warmth, a knowing. It terrified him.
"I am Lyra" she whispered. "Daughter of Selvara."
His heart clenched. The Demon Queen's spawn. The very bloodline his father died cursing. And yet, he couldn't move.
"I should kill you," Kael said hoarsely.
"You should."
She stepped closer, until there was nothing between them but the frost-laced air. The night seemed to hold its breath.
"But you won't," she added.
And gods help him, she was right.
Suddenly, the ground trembled. A sickly green light pulsed from beneath the earth, and a voice rumbled through the air, old as the world.
"The child of two bloods... the oath breaker... the storm bearer..."
Kael staggered, clutching his head as visions assaulted him fire raining from the heavens, armies of demons and men, a blade of light and shadow clashing against the heart of a god.
And through it all, lyra
When the world stilled, she was still there, her hand on his cheek, eyes filled with something between sorrow and wonder.
"It's you," she murmured. "The one the stars whispered of."
Kael's voice cracked. "What am I?"
Her fingers traced the mark on his chest a sigil he had never noticed before, now glowing faintly in the night.
"Cursed," she said, "and chosen."