Mira's POV

The silence didn’t last. Lyra went rigid in my arms. And I knew it wasn’t over. Her skin burned against mine. Then went ice-cold and burned again. “Lyra?” My voice sounded too loud in the quiet hall. “Stay with me.”

She didn’t answer. Her eyes were open but unfocused. They flickered between human and wolf. And it was so fast that it made me dizzy. The floor beneath us split, no longer thin fractures, but deep cracks tearing through stone.

“Get everyone out!” Kael shouted. “Move!” Cyrus was already on his feet. “Lyra, breathe.” But she wasn’t breathing right. Her breath was too fast and too shallow. The temperature dropped so sharply that I could see my breath.

Dust began falling from the ceiling in thin streams. It then thickened with every second. “Something was wrong.” I tried to hold her tighter and calm her. But she shook so violently that I could barely keep my grip. Then Lyra screamed.

It wasn’t human. It wasn’t a wolf. It was something in between, sharp enough to slice through the hall. The power she had forced down surged back with no control, no direction, just raw, catastrophic force. It threw me backward. I hit a column hard enough to crack ribs.

Through watering eyes, I saw her at the center of it, energy spiraling around her like a tornado, tearing at her clothes, her skin, her very self. Cyrus screamed her name. Kael shouted orders. Stone shattered, pillars groaned, and the hall crumbled around us.

I forced myself upright. Every breath burned, but I didn’t care. My daughter was destroying herself from the inside out. I ran toward her. Power scorched my skin and tore at my hair, but I pushed through it. I had survived worse. I wasn’t losing her to this.

My hand found her arm. Lightning shot through me. I felt everything she felt—the crushing weight of six years of lies collapsing at once. She was drowning, suffocating, breaking apart.

“Lyra!” I screamed. “I’m here!”

The power surged again. A support column cracked like thunder. Cyrus appeared beside me, grabbing her other arm. Pain twisted his face, blood slipping from his nose, but he didn’t let go. “We’ve got her,” he gasped. “Together, we can ground this.” I wanted to hate him. But right now, I needed him.

The power burned through us like fire through dry wood. My bones ached. My wolf howled in protest. “Don’t let go,” Cyrus gritted out, even as his hands blistered. “Whatever happens, don’t let go.” The floor buckled and split open beneath us, forming a crater around Lyra. Kael stepped in, placing a hand on my shoulder. “I’ve got you.”

“You need to evacuate,” I started, but he was already linking his power with ours, forming a fragile circuit we hoped would hold. The roof began to collapse. Massive stones fell, and screams echoed through the hall.

Through our connection, four of us bound by touch and desperation, I felt Lyra’s mind fracturing. Memories crashed through her: Cyrus teaching her to ride. Me braiding her hair. The lies. The truth. Her half-brother’s manipulation. The rebellion. The blood. The deaths.

She had led wolves to die for a cause built on deception, and she no longer knew who she was. Cyrus’s voice cracked. “Lyra, listen. I failed you. I lied. But I love you.”

The ancient symbols on the walls flared, glowing an eerie, angry light. “You’re my daughter,” he said, each word pulled from somewhere deep. “My blood. My choice. And I choose you.” I felt his truth, twisted, flawed, but real.

Pain crushed my ribs, but I didn’t let go. “You’re mine too,” I managed. “Blood or not. Lies or not. You’re mine.” Kael’s power flowed into us, steady, grounding. “And your pack,” he said. “Blackridge. Ours.”

The hall collapsed. The main beam split. The floor dropped away. But in the center of destruction, we stayed connected, broken, but holding.

Through Lyra’s eyes, because somehow, I could see through them, I saw us: Me, bloody and burned. Cyrus, weeping but refusing to release her. Kael, solid and unshakable.

We chose her. Not prophecy. Not destiny. Just her. Something shifted in Lyra, not surrender, but acceptance. She stopped fighting the power. Stopped fighting us. She simply breathed.

The energy changed, still devastating, but turned inward, no longer tearing the hall apart. The symbols blazed white, then faded. Whatever had tried to break free… went still.

The roof collapsed completely on us. The debris fell around us, not on us. It was like we stood in the eye of something ancient. I couldn’t feel my arms. Cyrus was coughing up blood. Kael barely stood. But none of us let go. Lyra’s gaze finally focused. She looked at me, really looked, and understanding dawned.

“Mom,” she whispered. Then her eyes rolled back, and she collapsed. We all went down with her as the power snapped away. We hit the rubble hard. Everything hurt. But I heard her breathing, steady, alive.

Hands rushed toward us, medics shouting. “Keep us together,” I rasped. “Don’t separate us,” Cyrus echoed. “Together,” Kael ordered.

They moved us out of the crater and into a medical tent. They tried to separate us until I grabbed Lyra’s hand. “Together,” I repeated.

They gave in, lining our cots side by side. Lyra lay unconscious but stable. Cyrus rested on her other side, hand on her shoulder. His eyes met mine, no excuses, no defenses. Just shared exhaustion.

Kael stood at the entrance, refusing treatment, watching the ruins with the eyes of an Alpha. When he looked at us, something new flickered in his expression.

Outside, warriors organized rescue efforts and counted the dead. The four of us lay in a row inside the room. We were broken, bleeding, but alive. Lyra’s fingers tightened weakly around mine. “I’ve got you,” I whispered. “We’ve got you.”

Sunlight broke through the smoke, warm on my ruined skin. The hall was gone. The rebellion ended. Everything familiar was destroyed. But we were here. Together. Choosing each other. And for now, that was enough. I closed my eyes, and the darkness enveloped me. I was still holding my daughter’s hand.