Lyrae's POV
Mom's blade doesn't waver.
"Release my daughter," she says, her voice ice-cold. "Or Elder Thorne becomes Elder Headless."
The soldiers holding me freeze. No one expected Lady Seraphine to threaten a council elder. No one thought she'd choose her daughter over her duty.
But she is.
Elder Thorne's smile never falters, even with a blade at his throat. "Kill me, and you condemn your entire family. The council has already voted. The girl comes with us. The law is clear."
"What law?" I demand, struggling against the soldiers. "What are you talking about?"
"The old laws. The ones written before this war began." Elder Thorne's eyes gleam with something that looks like greed. "Laws about what we do when Aetheria's chosen appear among us."
"I'm not—"
"You are. The powers you've displayed. The way ash-wolves bowed to you. The golden barrier that stopped two armies." His voice drops to something reverent. "You're a Bridge, child. Born once every thousand years. A living connection between our world and Aetheria itself."
The words hit me like a physical blow.
"That's impossible," Mom whispers, but her blade wavers.
"Is it?" Elder Thorne gestures at me with his free hand. "Look at her. Really look. When was the last time you saw her bleed red? When was the last time she got sick like a normal child?"
Mom's face goes pale. Because he's right. I haven't bled red in years—my blood always had a faint golden shimmer that we dismissed as a trick of the light. And I never got sick. Never caught the fevers that swept through our village. Never broke bones that didn't heal within days.
"You knew," I breathe, staring at Dad. "You knew what I was, and you never told me."
Dad finally meets my eyes, and I see guilt there. "We were trying to protect you. If the council found out—"
"Found out WHAT?" I'm shouting now, power crackling around my hands. "What am I really? Why does everyone keep saying I'm not Verdana?"
"Because your mother didn't give birth to you," Elder Thorne says calmly. "You appeared in the Sacred Grove nineteen years ago. A baby wrapped in light, with no parents, no explanation. Just... there. Aetheria's gift to us."
The world tilts sideways.
"No," I whisper. "No, that's not true. Mom, tell him he's lying."
But Mom's weapon has dropped completely now. Tears stream down her face.
"I wanted to tell you," she chokes out. "So many times. But we were afraid. Afraid of what it would mean. Afraid of losing you."
I can't breathe. Can't think.
Everything I thought I knew about myself is a lie.
"The council wants to study you," Elder Thorne continues. "To understand your connection to Aetheria. To harness your power for—"
"For winning the war," Draven finishes, his voice hard. He's still restrained by soldiers, but his amber eyes burn with anger. "You want to use her as a weapon."
"We want to save our people."
"By turning a girl into a tool? By studying her like an experiment?" Draven struggles against the guards. "She's a person, not a resource to harvest!"
"She's the key to ending this war!" Elder Thorne snaps. "With her power, we could heal our lands, strengthen our soldiers, create barriers that make us invincible. The Ashborn would have no choice but to surrender."
"Or you'd start an arms race," Draven counters. "The moment the Ashborn learn what she is, they'll hunt her. They'll want that power too. You're not protecting her—you're painting a target on her back."
Elder Thorne's face darkens. "The Ashborn don't get a vote in this."
"Neither do I, apparently," I say bitterly. My power surges, breaking free from the soldiers holding me. They stumble back, and I stand alone in the center of the stable, golden light wreathing my body. "You all keep deciding my fate without asking what I want. Mom, Dad, the council, everyone. But I'm done being a pawn in your war."
"Lyrae—" Dad starts.
"No!" The light brightens, making everyone shield their eyes. "I didn't ask to be born in a grove. I didn't ask for these powers. I didn't ask to be a Bridge or Aetheria's chosen or whatever. I just wanted to be normal. To have a family. To belong somewhere."
My voice breaks. "But I don't belong anywhere, do I? I'm not really your daughter. I'm not really Verdana. I'm just... something you found and kept."
"That's not true," Mom says desperately. "We loved you from the moment we saw you. You ARE our daughter, Lyrae. Blood doesn't matter."
"Then prove it. Let me choose my own path."
Silence falls. The golden light around me pulses with each heartbeat.
Elder Thorne breaks the silence. "The council's orders stand. The girl—"
"The girl has a name!" Draven roars. He breaks free from the guards, despite their attempts to restrain him. "Her name is Lyrae. And if you want to take her, you'll have to go through me."
He stands beside me, weaponless and outnumbered, but his presence feels like a shield.
"Touching," Elder Thorne says coldly. "But ultimately meaningless. Guards, seize them both."
The soldiers advance.
I look at Draven. He looks at me. In his amber eyes, I see the same desperate determination I feel.
Neither of us is going down without a fight.
My hands start glowing brighter—gold mixing with green mixing with red. All my powers at once, fueled by emotion I can't control.
"Lyrae, stop!" Mom shouts. "You'll hurt yourself!"
But I can't stop. The power is building, growing, threatening to explode like it did in the cave. Except this time, there are dozens of people in range. This time, people will die.
Including me.
"Everyone GET OUT!" Dad orders, finally taking charge. "Clear the stables now!"
But it's too late. The power reaches critical mass.
Draven grabs my hands, and suddenly—
The power doesn't explode.
It flows.
From me to him. Through him. Around us both. The gold and green and red lights merge into something new—something white and pure and impossibly beautiful.
The light spreads out in a gentle wave, washing over everyone in the stable. And where it touches, wounds heal. Exhaustion fades. Even the horses calm.
It's not destruction.
It's creation.
When the light fades, I collapse. Draven catches me before I hit the ground, both of us breathing hard.
"What just happened?" Elder Thorne whispers, staring at us in shock.
I look up at Draven, and I see the same confusion in his eyes. But also wonder. And something else—something that makes my heart race.
"I think..." I swallow hard. "I think you stabilize my power. When you touch me, you keep it from going out of control."
"That's impossible," Elder Thorne breathes. "Unless..."
He stares at Draven with new understanding. New hunger.
"Unless you're one too," he finishes. "Another Bridge. From the Ashborn side."
"No," Draven says flatly. "I'm just a warrior. Nothing special."
But Elder Thorne is already signaling his guards. "Seize them both. Take them to the research facility. This changes everything."
"Father, NO!" A new voice cuts through the chaos.
We all turn. Riven stands in the stable doorway, and he's not alone. Behind him are at least thirty people—villagers, farmers, people I've known my whole life.
And they're all armed.
"Riven?" I gasp.
My younger brother steps forward, his jaw set with determination. "Let my sister go. And the Ashborn warrior. Or we're going to have a problem."
Elder Thorne laughs. "You're threatening me? A child with farmers?"
"I'm threatening you with people who remember what it means to have honor," Riven says quietly. "People who know that what you're planning is wrong. That using my sister as a weapon makes us no better than the enemy."
Murmurs of agreement ripple through the crowd behind him.
Elder Thorne's smile fades. "This is treason."
"Then I guess we're all traitors." Mom steps away from the elder, moving to stand beside Riven. "Because I'm not letting you take my daughter."
Dad looks between Mom and the Elder, torn. Finally, with a heavy sigh, he moves to stand with his family.
"The council isn't going to accept this," he says quietly. "We're starting a civil war."
"Then we start a war," Mom replies. "But we do it together."
Elder Thorne's face turns purple with rage. "You're all making a terrible mistake. That girl is too dangerous to be free. She needs to be contained, studied, controlled—"
"She needs to be protected," Draven interrupts. His arms are still around me, still holding me up. "And whether you like it or not, I'm going to do exactly that."
"You?" Elder Thorne spits. "You're Ashborn. You have no say in—"
A horn sounds in the distance. Then another. And another.
Everyone freezes.
That sound. I know that sound.
Ashborn war horns. Dozens of them.
A soldier runs into the stable, panting. "Sir! Ashborn forces approaching from the west! At least three battalions! They're demanding we surrender the traitor Draven and the girl with golden powers, or they'll attack!"
My stomach drops. Three battalions. That's hundreds of warriors.
"How did they find us so fast?" Dad demands.
"I may have an answer to that," a cold voice says from the stable rafters.
We all look up. A figure drops down, landing in a crouch.
Zephyr.
He's been here the whole time. Listening. Watching.
"Hello, brother," he says to Draven with a vicious smile. "Miss me? Because War Chief Mordain certainly missed you. And when I told him about the Bridge girl, about her powers, about what she could mean for our people..." He spreads his hands. "Well. He decided she's too valuable to leave in Verdana hands."
"You brought an army here?" Draven's voice is deadly quiet. "You're going to start a war over—"
"We're taking the girl," Zephyr interrupts. "One way or another. And Draven? Mordain says you have one chance to come home. Bring us the Bridge, prove your loyalty, and all is forgiven."
He pulls out a blade, spinning it casually.
"Or stay with the Verdana and die with them. Your choice."
All eyes turn to Draven.
He's still holding me. Still standing between me and danger.
"Well?" Zephyr presses. "What's it going to be, brother? Your people? Or the enemy?"
The war horns sound again. Closer now.
And in the terrible silence, I realize something.
Whatever Draven chooses, everything changes.
If he chooses his people, I lose the one person who makes me feel safe.
If he chooses me, he becomes a traitor to both sides.
There's no good answer.
His arms tighten around me, just slightly.
And when he speaks, his voice is steady.
"I choose—"
An explosion rocks the compound, cutting off his words.
The Ashborn attack has begun.