Chapter 18 — The Glow Beneath Her Skin
Lyra didn't notice it at first.
It began quietly — like warmth settling into her bones, like sunlight lingering longer on her skin. She thought it was the palace, or the lullaby, or the way the Dragon King looked at her now with something softer than fire.
But it was her.
She was changing.
---
It happened one morning in the garden.
She knelt beside a patch of frostbloom flowers — delicate things that only opened under moonlight. One had wilted early, its petals curled in sadness. Lyra reached out, gently, and whispered:
"You're not alone."
She didn't expect anything.
But the flower stirred.
Its petals unfolded slowly, shimmering faintly — not with moonlight, but with something else. Something golden.
Lyra gasped.
Her hand glowed.
Just for a moment.
A soft, pale light pulsed beneath her skin, like a heartbeat made of stars. Then it faded.
She looked around. No one had seen.
But the flower remained open.
---
That evening, she found the Dragon King in the observatory — a quiet tower filled with star maps and glass instruments that hummed when touched.
He turned when she entered, his expression unreadable.
"I felt something," he said.
Lyra nodded. "So did I."
She told him about the frostbloom. About the light. About the way her hand had glowed without pain, without fear.
He listened in silence.
Then he walked to her, slowly, and placed his hand over hers.
Nothing happened.
But his eyes widened.
"You're carrying it," he whispered. "Not my fire. Something older."
Lyra tilted her head. "Is it dangerous?"
"No," he said. "It's sacred."
She blinked. "What is it?"
He looked out the window, toward the stars.
"Long ago," he said, "dragons were born from skyfire — the breath of stars and the hush of wind. But there was a second flame. A gentler one. It didn't burn. It healed. It listened."
Lyra's voice was soft. "And that's what I have?"
He nodded. "It's rare. It chooses only those who love without asking for anything in return."
She looked down at her hand.
"I didn't mean to carry it," she said.
He smiled — quiet, reverent. "You didn't need to. It found you."
---
That night, Lyra sat by her window, watching the stars blink slowly.
She didn't feel powerful.
She felt… trusted.
And as the wind brushed her cheek, she whispered:
> "I'll protect it.
> I'll protect him."
And somewhere deep in the palace, the walls sighed — not with sorrow, but with peace.