The Court of Stars was even more breathtaking up close than it had been from a distance. As they approached the main gates towering arches of crystallized starlight that hummed with protective magic Lyra felt like she was walking into a fairy tale written by someone with far too much imagination and a serious addiction to precious metals.
The walls weren't built so much as grown, rising from the earth in spiraling towers that seemed to defy gravity. Gardens floated in midair, connected by bridges that looked like they were woven from moonbeams and stubbornness. Waterfalls flowed upward, their spray catching the light of the three moons and throwing rainbows in impossible directions.
"Try not to gawk," Sage Rowan murmured, but there was amusement in her voice. "The Court fae love it when newcomers are obviously impressed. It goes to their heads."
"Too late," Lyra said, craning her neck to watch a flock of birds with feathers like liquid silver spiral around one of the highest spires. "This is definitely gawking territory."
Kieran squeezed her hand. "Wait until you see the throne room. The first time I came here, I walked into a pillar because I was staring at the ceiling."
"You did not."
"He absolutely did," Councilor Thorne said dryly. "I was there. It was his first day as a Guardian trainee, and he knocked himself unconscious. We had to carry him to the healing wing."
"I was seventeen," Kieran protested, but Lyra could see the faint flush creeping up his neck. "And the ceiling moves. It's disorienting."
"The ceiling moves?" Lyra looked up at the shifting patterns of light above them. "Of course it does. Why wouldn't it?"
They passed through the gates, and immediately Lyra felt the weight of attention settling on her like a heavy cloak. Fae of all descriptions had gathered in the courtyard some looked almost human aside from their pointed ears and too-bright eyes, others were clearly something else entirely. She saw a woman with bark for skin and leaves in her hair, a man whose lower body was that of a deer, and a group of children who appeared to be made entirely of living crystal.
All of them were staring at her.
"Word travels fast," Kieran said quietly, moving slightly closer to her side. "They know who you are."
"How?"
"Magic has its own way of spreading news," Sage Rowan explained. "Especially news this significant. By now, everyone in the realm knows that Selene Nightwhisper's granddaughter has returned."
A path cleared for them as they walked, the assembled fae stepping back with expressions that ranged from curiosity to reverence to something that looked distinctly like fear. Lyra heard whispers following in their wake fragments of conversation in that musical fae language she somehow understood.
"The bridge-daughter..."
"She broke the Hollow Ones without training..."
"The prophecy..."
"Too dangerous..."
"Our salvation..."
"They're talking about me," Lyra said, her cheeks burning.
"Let them talk," Kieran said firmly. "Half of them have probably never seen a mixed-blood before, and the other half have been waiting twenty years for you to show up. A little staring is inevitable."
They climbed a series of steps that seemed to be carved from a single massive opal, each one catching the strange light and throwing it back in different colors. At the top, enormous doors stood open, revealing a hallway that stretched further than should have been possible.
"The Court adjusts its size based on need," Councilor Thorne explained, noticing Lyra's confusion. "Right now, it's anticipating a large gathering. The full Council will want to meet you immediately."
"How large a gathering?"
"All seven High Councilors, plus representatives from each of the major courts, plus probably half the Court nobles who can come up with an excuse to be here," Sage Rowan said cheerfully. "So, somewhere around two hundred people, give or take."
Lyra stopped walking. "Two hundred people want to meet me? Right now? Today?"
"It'll be fine," Kieran said, but she could hear the tension in his voice. "Just remember that you don't owe them anything. You're here by choice, not because they summoned you."
"What if they don't like me? What if they think I'm not powerful enough, or too dangerous, or…
"Lyra." Kieran stopped and turned to face her, his hands settling on her shoulders. "Look at me."
She did, getting lost for a moment in those silver eyes that seemed to hold entire galaxies.
"You severed master-level domination spells on your first try," he said quietly. "You made the Gateway Grove respond to your presence just by walking through it. The pendant your grandmother left you a focus stone that powerful mages would kill for recognizes you as its rightful owner. You are extraordinary, and anyone who can't see that is an idiot."
"But what if…"
He silenced her with a kiss.
It was soft, brief, and completely inappropriate given that they were standing in the main hall of the Court with about fifty people watching. But it was also perfect, sending warmth spiraling through her chest and making the pendant at her throat hum with contentment.
When he pulled back, his eyes were definitely more silver than before, and she could see the tips of his fangs when he smiled.
"Sorry," he said, not sounding sorry at all. "But you were spiraling, and that seemed like the most efficient way to stop it."
"Efficient," she repeated, her brain still catching up.
"Also, I've been wanting to do that since the moment I saw you."
"Well," she said, pleased to find her voice was mostly steady, "it was definitely efficient."
"If you two are quite finished with the public displays of affection," Councilor Thorne said, but there was warmth in her voice, "the Council is waiting."
They resumed walking, and Lyra noticed that the whispers around them had taken on a different quality. More speculative, more interested. Apparently kissing a Guardian in the main hall was noteworthy information.
"Great," she muttered. "Now they're going to think I'm here to seduce their protectors."
"Let them think whatever they want," Kieran said. "The only opinions that matter are yours and mine."
The hallway opened into a circular chamber that made Lyra's breath catch all over again. The ceiling was a dome of what looked like captured night sky, complete with slowly moving constellations and the occasional shooting star. The walls were lined with alcoves, each one containing a different scene that seemed to be playing out in real time forests and oceans and cities she'd never dreamed of.
But it was the center of the room that commanded attention. Seven chairs arranged in a perfect circle, each one carved from a different material and radiating a different kind of magic. Six of them were occupied.
"The High Council," Sage Rowan said quietly. "The seven most powerful fae in the realm."
Councilor Thorne moved to take her place in the seventh chair, which appeared to be made of crystallized golden light. The others watched Lyra with expressions ranging from kind curiosity to barely concealed hostility.
"Lyra Nightwhisper," said the fae in the chair that looked like it had been carved from a living tree. She was tall and ethereal, with green-tinted skin and hair that moved like it was underwater. "I am High Councilor Verdania of the Nature Courts. We welcome you home."
"Thank you," Lyra said, trying to project more confidence than she felt. "Though I have to admit, this doesn't feel much like home yet."
A few of the councilors smiled at that, but the one in the chair made of what looked like frozen fire did not. "I am High Councilor Pyrion," he said, his voice crackling like a bonfire. "And I think we should address the obvious question immediately."
"Which is?"
"Whether you're here to help us or to fulfill the prophecy that will destroy us all."
The chamber fell silent except for the whisper of artificial wind through the ceiling constellations. Lyra felt Kieran tense beside her, but she kept her gaze steady on the fire fae's burning eyes.
"I don't know anything about a prophecy," she said honestly. "But I'm definitely not here to destroy anyone. I just found out magic was real this morning. I'm still trying to figure out what that means for me."
"The prophecy speaks of a bridge-child who will either unite the realms or tear them apart," said a new voice. This came from the councilor in the chair that appeared to be carved from a single massive crystal. She was pale as moonlight, with silver hair and eyes like chips of diamond. "A child born of both worlds, with power over dreams and shadows and the spaces between."
"That could describe a lot of mixed-blood children," Lyra pointed out.
"Could it?" The crystal councilor smiled, and it wasn't entirely pleasant. "Tell me, child when you severed the domination spell on the Hollow Ones, what did you see?"
Lyra hesitated, glancing at Kieran. He nodded encouragingly.
"I saw... connections. Like threads made of shadow, linking them to whoever was controlling them. They looked wrong, so I cut them."
"And how did you cut them?"
"I just... reached out. With my mind, I guess. Or maybe my power? I'm not really sure how to explain it."
The councilors exchanged glances, and Lyra could feel the weight of some communication passing between them that she wasn't privy to.
"Show us," said the councilor in the chair that looked like it was made of compressed starlight. His voice was melodious, hypnotic. "Show us your power, Lyra Nightwhisper."
"I don't know how to control it," she protested. "What if I break something?"
"The chamber is warded," Councilor Thorne said gently. "Nothing you do here can cause permanent damage."
Lyra looked around the circle of expectant faces, then at Kieran. He gave her the smallest nod, and she could feel his confidence in her like a warm hand on her shoulder.
She closed her eyes and reached for the power she'd felt earlier. It was still there, that vast well of moonlight and starfire, but it felt different now. Calmer, more controlled. Like it was waiting for her to learn how to use it properly.
She opened her eyes and let just a trickle of that power flow through her.
The effect was immediate. Silver light began to emanate from her skin, not blindingly bright but clearly visible. The pendant at her throat resonated with the same light, and suddenly she could see so much more than before.
The magic that flowed through the chamber was visible to her now streams of different colors and textures that wove together in patterns of incredible complexity. She could see the personal magic of each councilor, could sense the protective wards built into the walls, could feel the pulse of the Court's heartstone somewhere far below them.
But more than that, she could see the connections. Not just between the people in this room, but extending out through the Court, through the realm, even back toward the world she'd left behind. Golden threads that spoke of friendship, red ones that pulsed with love, dark purple ones that reeked of hatred and fear.
And running through it all, like a poison in the bloodstream, were threads of shadow that led away into distances she couldn't fathom. The Shadow King's influence, spreading like a cancer through both worlds.
"Incredible," breathed High Councilor Verdania. "She can see the Web of Fate itself."
"The what now?" Lyra asked, though she didn't let go of the power. It felt too good, too right, like this was what she'd been meant to do her entire life.
"The connections between all living things," explained the starlight councilor. "Most of us can sense them vaguely, a few can manipulate them with great effort. But to see them clearly, to understand their nature instinctively... that's a gift that appears perhaps once in a thousand years."
"And the prophecy speaks of such a gift," added the crystal councilor. "A bridge-child who can see the threads that bind the worlds together, who can either strengthen them or sever them entirely."
Lyra let the power fade, suddenly exhausted. The silver light died away, leaving her feeling strangely hollow.
"So what does that mean?" she asked. "What am I supposed to do with this... gift?"
"That," said High Councilor Pyrion, "is what we need to figure out. Because the Shadow King has been gathering power for twenty years, and his forces grow stronger every day. If you truly are the bridge-child of prophecy, then you may be our only hope of stopping him."
"And if I'm not?"
"Then we're all dead anyway," he said cheerfully. "So we might as well assume you are and act accordingly."
"That's... not reassuring."
"The life of a prophesied savior rarely is," said Councilor Thorne gently. "But you won't be facing this alone, Lyra. You'll have teachers, protectors, allies. And time to learn and grow into your power."
"How much time?"
The councilors exchanged those weighted glances again.
"Not as much as we'd like," High Councilor Verdania admitted. "Our scouts report that the Shadow King's forces are massing near the border between realms. He's planning something significant, and soon."
"Which brings us to another important matter," said the crystal councilor, and her tone made Lyra's stomach drop. "Your Guardian."
Every eye in the room turned to Kieran, who had been standing silently at Lyra's shoulder throughout the entire exchange. She felt him tense, his hand moving instinctively toward his sword.
"What about him?" Lyra asked, though she was pretty sure she didn't want to know the answer.
"Guardian Shadowmere has served with distinction for over a century," the starlight councilor said formally. "His dedication to protecting the realm is unquestioned. However, there are... concerns... about his ability to remain objective regarding your safety."
"What kind of concerns?"
"The kind that involve public displays of affection in the main hall," High Councilor Pyrion said dryly. "Along with certain magical resonances that suggest a mate bond may be forming between you."
Lyra felt heat flood her cheeks. "That's how could you possibly know that?"
"The same way we know everything else," the crystal councilor said. "Magic tells us. And a mate bond between a Guardian and his charge is problematic for obvious reasons."
"Such as?"
"Such as the fact that bonded mates will prioritize each other's safety over literally everything else," Councilor Thorne said quietly. "Including the fate of both worlds."
"That's not true," Kieran said, speaking for the first time since they'd entered the chamber. "I would never"
"You would," High Councilor Verdania said gently. "If it came down to a choice between saving Lyra and saving the realm, you would choose her. It's not a moral failing, Guardian Shadowmere. It's biology. The mate bond doesn't allow for any other choice."
Lyra looked between Kieran and the Council, panic rising in her chest. "So what are you saying? That he can't be my Guardian anymore?"
"We're saying," the starlight councilor said carefully, "that we need to consider whether it's wise to allow the bond to fully form. There are ways to prevent it, to ensure that both of you can think clearly about the larger picture."
"You want to break something that hasn't even formed yet?" Lyra's voice was rising, and she could feel power stirring in response to her emotions. "You want to take away our choice?"
"We want to save both worlds," High Councilor Pyrion said firmly. "And sometimes that requires sacrifices."
"Not this sacrifice." Lyra stepped forward, silver light beginning to dance around her fingers. "I don't care about your prophecy, I don't care about your politics, and I sure as hell don't care about your opinions on who I should or shouldn't be bonded to. Kieran stays with me, or I walk out of here right now and take my bridge-child powers with me."
The chamber erupted in startled murmurs. Clearly, no one had expected the prophesied savior to start making demands five minutes after meeting the Council.
"Lyra," Kieran said quietly, "you don't have to"
"Yes, I do." She turned to face him, and the look in her eyes made his breath catch. "I meant what I said earlier. I've spent my whole life feeling incomplete, and for the first time, I feel whole. I'm not giving that up for politics."
"Even if it means both worlds might fall to the Shadow King?" the crystal councilor asked coldly.
"Especially then," Lyra said, turning back to face the Council. "Because if you're right, if Kieran and I are mate bonded, then our connection makes us stronger, not weaker. And if you're wrong about the mate bond interfering with judgment, then you're probably wrong about a lot of other things too."
She was taking a huge gamble, and she knew it. But something deep in her chest, some instinct that felt older than thought, was telling her that this was important. That the connection between her and Kieran was more than just romantic attraction it was a source of power, a foundation she could build on.
The Council fell silent, and Lyra could feel them communicating again in that wordless way that excluded her. Finally, High Councilor Verdania spoke.
"Very well," she said. "Guardian Shadowmere will remain as your protector, for now. But if we determine that the mate bond is interfering with either of your abilities to make sound strategic decisions, we reserve the right to intervene."
"Fair enough," Lyra said, though privately she was already planning to be long gone before they could make good on that threat.
"In the meantime," Councilor Thorne said, "you'll need quarters here at the Court. Training will begin tomorrow you'll need to learn to control your abilities before you can be of any use in the coming fight."
"And tonight?"
"Tonight, you rest," the starlight councilor said. "Tomorrow, you begin the most intensive magical education in the history of either world. Because ready or not, Lyra Nightwhisper, war is coming."
As they were escorted from the chamber by a pair of guards who looked like they'd been carved from living shadow, Lyra felt the weight of destiny settling on her shoulders like a lead cloak.
But she also felt Kieran's hand slip into hers, warm and steady and real, and that made everything else bearable.
She was the bridge-child of prophecy, the key to saving or destroying two worlds, and apparently the most powerful mage either realm had seen in a thousand years.
She was also twenty-one years old, completely out of her depth, and falling in love with a man who might be her soulmate or might be her doom.
But as they walked through corridors that shifted and changed around them, heading toward whatever tomorrow would bring, Lyra found that she wasn't afraid anymore.
After all, she'd already survived the impossible once today.
How much harder could saving the world be?