Mira’s POV

Kael moved first, and I followed. The chamber doors slid open as Lyra stepped forward. Something in Kael locked; sweat gathered on his brow.

She stood between two guards and lifted her head sharply. She already knew who we were. She didn’t react when Kael whispered her name.

His voice echoed. She stared at him fairly. Her expression made my pulse stumble. He tried again, softer. She blinked once and nothing more.

I stepped forward and searched her face. Her gaze brushed over me. It was sharp, but unreadable. It was like she dismissed me entirely.

Kael swallowed hard. He waited for her to soften. But her eyes stayed distant. He always said she had his eyes. Right now, they were strangers.

I called her name. She didn’t blink. She only looked faintly irritated by the sound.

Kael took half a step closer. The guards shifted, and he froze under her stare. She didn’t ask why we came. The refusal was deliberate.

Her posture was controlled. Someone had taught her to stand that way.

“We’re here for you,” Kael said. Lyra turned her gaze on him, detached. She marked and forced a smile.

Kael’s hand dropped to his side. I noticed his heart racing, and his expression changed instantly. In all of this, Lyra never cared.

I tried speaking to her, but I met stiff resistance. She looked past me as if I wasn’t there. Lyra didn't want to have anything to do with us. She refused to listen to us.

Kael tried again. “Lyra… It’s me.”

Her expression didn’t change. Even the guards hesitated, perhaps waiting for orders. They weren't sure whether to intervene. Kael wasn’t threatening, just unraveling.

I stepped in front of him. I touched him, but he didn’t look at me. He couldn’t look away from Lyra. She folded her arms. It was final.

“Why won’t you look at me?” he asked. She looked long enough for the meaning to land like a blade. Not fear. Not anger. Rejection.

Kael had imagined this moment a thousand ways. None matched this.

Lyra stepped back. The guards didn’t stop her.

Kael inhaled sharply. That one step cut deeper than any wound.

He barely felt my hand steadying him. His world had narrowed to the girl who looked like him and wanted nothing to do with him.

Lyra stared as if she wasn’t seeing us, only the consequences of letting her walls fall. The silence stretched thin.

When Kael whispered her name again, she turned her face away. It was final. Kael’s shoulders sagged. I didn’t speak.

Lyra lifted her chin, steady and unreachable. I searched her face for hesitation. There was none. Kael tried to speak again, but I stopped him. He nodded faintly, breaking apart.

Lyra watched without interest. She had already dismissed us. The head guard approached, unsure whether to move her. She remained still. “She hates us,” Kael whispered.

I didn’t answer. The truth was worse; she felt nothing. Lyra finally spoke. “I don’t know you. Don’t try to make me.” Kael recoiled. “We’re here to take you home,” I said. “This is home.” Kael’s breath hitched.

“You should leave,” she said to me. Then pointed at Kael. “He should leave.” Kael staggered. I steadied him.

“They told you lies,” he said. “I don’t need their lies,” she replied. “I don’t need your truth.” Every path collapsed for him. I tried to step forward, but the guard blocked me. Kael lifted a hand, stopping me from pushing through.

Lyra watched, unmoved. Erasing us required no effort. “I’m your father,” Kael whispered.

“No.”

The single word froze him. She turned away, shutting him out completely. Kael’s breath broke. I blocked her from his view, but she didn’t look at us again.

The guards were prepared to take her back. She didn’t resist. Kael tried to follow, but I held him. His body trembled. Lyra walked away without looking back.

When the doors closed behind her, the room felt hollow. Kael released a sound that barely counted as breathing. I steadied him. He shook me off and moved toward the wall, fists clenched.

Silence swallowed everything. Footsteps echoed. A scout rushed in. “Mira… Kael… you need to hear this.”

“What is it?” I asked. “She wasn’t alone. Someone came with her.” Kael lifted his head, dazed.

“Who?”

“It’s Kael’s brother.” Kael froze. “He’s meeting Lyra. Right now,” the scout added. Kael’s knees buckled. I caught him. Then the scout whispered, “He told her not to trust either of you.”

The chamber lights flickered. And Lyra screamed from somewhere inside the compound.

Kael’s fingers tightened around my wrist so hard. The pain flared; for a second, he looked younger than any Alpha should be, broken and human. The scout’s face had drained of color; whatever meeting was happening had shifted the ground beneath us.

“Where?” Kael demanded, voice hollow with a threat he barely kept contained. The scout swallowed. “The eastern watchtower. He left five minutes ago.” Kael’s head turned so fast I felt the motion through our bond; the pull was frantic, a rope snapping taut.

We moved before orders could form, muscles remembering the work of running toward danger rather than away from it.

The room inside smelled of cold smoke and old paper; footprints cut across dust in two directions. Lyra’s scream echoed again, thinner this time, and beneath it a low hum, power coiling like a spring.

Kael stepped forward, but his hand faltered on the lintel. “He lied to her,” I said, voice tight, the words more a wish than an accusation. Kael closed his eyes for a breath, then pushed in. The figure at the window turned, tall, dark, and not a man we knew; his face held a familiarity that made Kael’s breath hitch.

“Brother,” Kael said, and the name was accusation and plea wrapped together.