Lyra didn’t remember falling asleep.
One moment she was walking through the red?leafed forest, Rowan’s hand wrapped around hers, the world spinning in feverish waves.
The next, she woke to the crackle of a small fire and the scent of pine smoke.
She blinked, disoriented.
They were in a hollow beneath a massive cedar tree, its roots arching overhead like ribs. Rowan had built a shelter from branches and his cloak, angled to hide the fire’s glow. The forest outside was dim, the sky bruised with the last light of dusk.
Rowan sat a few feet away, sharpening his sword with slow, deliberate strokes. His armor was off, stacked neatly beside him. Without it, he looked… human. Tired. Worn down to the bone.
Lyra pushed herself upright. Her muscles ached. Her wrists throbbed. Her throat felt like sandpaper.
Rowan didn’t look up. “You’re awake.”
His voice was low, steady — but she heard the relief beneath it.
Lyra swallowed. “How long was I out?”
“Most of the day.”
She winced. “I slowed us down.”
“You kept us alive,” Rowan said. “That’s not slowing anything.”
Lyra looked away, embarrassed. The firelight flickered across her hands — human hands now, not claws. She curled them into fists.
“Did the Silver Oath pass us?” she asked.
“Not yet.” Rowan’s jaw tightened. “But they will.”
Lyra studied him. The shadows under his eyes. The tension in his shoulders. The way he kept glancing toward the forest, listening for footsteps.
“You know them,” she said quietly. “How they hunt.”
Rowan paused mid?stroke.
“Yes.”
Lyra hesitated. “Because you were one of them.”
He didn’t answer.
Not with words.
But the silence was enough.
Lyra shifted closer, careful not to startle him. “Rowan… why did they cast you out?”
His hand stilled on the whetstone.
For a long moment, he said nothing. The fire popped softly. A breeze rustled the red leaves overhead.
Then Rowan exhaled — a slow, heavy breath that sounded like surrender.
“There was another recruit,” he said. “Elias.”
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Lyra’s ears twitched. She remembered the name from his sleep?muttered words.
“He was my closest friend,” Rowan continued. “We trained together. Bled together. Survived things we shouldn’t have.”
Lyra watched him carefully. “What happened?”
Rowan’s eyes darkened.
“The Silver Oath sent us to purge a village. They said it was overrun with Moon?Wraiths.”
Lyra’s stomach twisted.
“It wasn’t,” Rowan said. “There was only one. A child. She was scared. Confused. She didn’t attack anyone.”
Lyra’s breath caught.
Rowan’s voice hardened. “Elias raised his sword. I stopped him.”
Lyra’s heart pounded. “You protected her.”
“I tried.” Rowan’s jaw clenched. “But the order doesn’t tolerate hesitation. They called it treason. Elias called it betrayal.”
Lyra swallowed. “What happened to the girl?”
Rowan looked into the fire.
“She didn’t survive.”
Lyra’s chest tightened painfully. She reached out, hesitating only a moment before placing her hand over his.
Rowan didn’t pull away.
“You did what you could,” she whispered.
“Not enough.”
“You saved me.”
Rowan finally looked at her — really looked. His eyes softened, just a fraction.
“You’re not her,” he said. “But I won’t fail again.”
Lyra’s throat tightened. She squeezed his hand gently.
A sudden crack echoed through the forest.
Rowan was on his feet instantly, sword drawn. Lyra scrambled up beside him, heart racing.
Voices drifted through the trees — low, disciplined, unmistakably human.
The Silver Oath.
Rowan grabbed Lyra’s arm. “We move. Now.”
Lyra nodded, adrenaline burning away her exhaustion.
They doused the fire, grabbed their packs, and slipped into the shadows beneath the red leaves.
As they ran, Rowan glanced back once — toward the direction of the voices.
His expression hardened.
“They’re close,” he said.
Lyra’s bells chimed softly as she ran beside him.
“Then we run faster.”
And together, they vanished into the darkening forest, the Silver Oath closing in like wolves on a trail of blood.
