Lyra's POV

They woke me before the dawn.

Two guards, same as before, fastened the shackles and hauled me from the cot. My body protested. My ribs ached, and the mark at my neck pulsed dull and hot, matching an echo I felt deep in my chest.

We reached the Great Hall. The floor had been scrubbed clean of blood, but the air still reeked of iron. A new, smoking circle of runes had been carved into the stone. The priests were already waiting, their faces veiled. The king stood on the dais, wine in one hand, pleasure curling around his mouth.

He looked rested. Pleased. Ready.

“Bring her in,” he said.

The guards shoved me forward. I stopped at the edge of the circle. The marks glowed faintly. At the far end of the hall, the Cursed alpha stood again in chains. I could see the scorch marks on the floor where he’d struggled before.

“Step closer,” the king said.

I didn’t move.

The nearest guard jabbed me between the shoulder blades. I stumbled across the rim of the circle. The moment my foot crossed the line, my mark burned like a heated coin pressed to my skin. The air grew heavy.

The king raised his goblet and smiled. “Do you feel it, girl? The thread between you? The power I now hold?”

He turned to the priests. “Let’s see how far it stretches.”

The priests began to chant, their voices vibrating through the floor. The runes brightened, red and white. The cursed alpha’s eyes flashed in the torchlight at me.

The king’s voice cut through the chanting. “Kneel.”

No one moved.

“Did you not hear your king?” His tone sharpened. “I said kneel.”

The alpha didn’t obey. The runes on his chains flared.

Pain lanced up my spine. My knees gave out. I hit the floor hard.

The king’s laughter filled the room. “Beautiful,” he said. “When the beast defies me, she suffers. When she yields, he bends. A perfect leash.”

He stepped closer. “Let’s make it interesting. If I strike her, what will he do, I wonder?”

The priest nearest him hesitated. “Your Majesty, the runes, they’re unstable. The binding is still raw...”

“Do as I say,” Haldor snapped. “Bring me my answer.”

The priest gave a reluctant nod. A guard stepped forward, holding a whip lined with silver.

I barely had time to lift my head.

The lash cracked through the air and met my back. Pain bloomed in a flash of white. My mouth opened but no sound came.

And then I heard it, that deep, terrible growl.

It came from everywhere. The cursed alpha jerked against his restraints. The runes across his skin flared blinding blue. The links groaned. Sparks flew.

The whip cracked again.

The sound that left him this time wasn’t a growl, it was a roar that ripped the air apart. The torches exploded. The circle of runes split, red light spilling into the cracks.

I screamed. My mark burned bright enough to light the hall. The pain no longer belonged to me. It belonged to us.

The priests shouted, their voices breaking as the runes collapsed. Smoke poured from the grooves. One fell, clutching his head, blood dripping from his nose.

“Stop!” another shouted. “It’s feeding on itself... stop the magic!”

The king’s voice rose above them, sharp and wild. “No! Let it finish!”

The alpha’s chains snapped taut. The metal stretched, glowing white-hot. A sound like splitting thunder filled the room. One shackle burst, the iron flying apart in shards. The next cracked, then shattered.

Every blow against him sent a wave of power through me. My veins burned.

The final chain exploded with a sound like a thousand bells breaking.

Light filled the room.

I saw him through it, tall, terrible, free. His breath came in ragged bursts, his eyes fixed on the king.

But he didn’t move toward him.

He came to me.

He knelt beside me. I felt his hand slide under my back, steady, cold, strong. He lifted me easily. The scent of smoke and metal clung to him.

Around us, the hall was chaos. The king shouted something.

My vision dimmed. The last thing I saw before the darkness claimed me was the shimmer of broken chains.still glowing faintly where they’d fallen.

---

When I opened my eyes, the world was moving.

The sky above me was a dull strip of gray. The air smelled of wood, dust, and horses. A wagon wheel creaked. I tried to sit up, but my limbs felt heavy. The bite on my neck pulsed faintly just alive.

I turned my head. Through the gaps in the wagon’s wooden slats, I saw the blur of trees and stone walls sliding by. The palace. It was shrinking, its white towers fading into the mist. We were leaving.

When I shifted my hand, the ache in my ribs told me it was real. Two soldiers rode beside the wagon. Their armor bore no crest. One glanced back at me, then quickly looked away.

I licked my lips, my voice barely a whisper. “Where… are we going?”

Neither of them answered.

The wagon jolted over a rut, and the sound made one of them glance again in caution.

I lifted the edge of the blanket. The shackles were gone, replaced by faint red bruises.

I turned my head toward the front of the wagon. Through the shifting shapes, I saw him.

The Cursed Alpha.

He rode ahead, upright and silent on a black horse.

He didn’t look back.

The soldiers kept their distance from him, like men riding beside a storm.

I didn’t know if we were prisoners or fugitives. All I knew was that I wasn’t in chains anymore and that every time the wagon jolted, the rhythm in my chest aligned with his.

I lay back against the wood and stared at the gray sky until it blurred.

---