Calyx stood in the ashes of the broken grove, watching the tear in the sky slowly stitch itself closed. The forest, once trembling with the fury of ancient magic, had gone still—too still.
He wasn't dead.
But something inside him was.
Lyra and Raven had vanished beyond the veil, and Calyx knew what that meant. The bond had not only awakened—it had claimed them. He touched the jagged edge of his blade, watching blood trickle down the hilt. A vow broken always tasted like iron.
"You warned them," came a voice behind him—soft, female, and wrapped in old power.
Calyx didn't turn. "And they didn't listen."
The woman stepped forward, her dark robes dragging moss and flame with them. High Priestess Elira. Her presence made the remaining shadows hiss and retreat.
"Maybe they weren't supposed to," she said. "Maybe this storm was always meant to tear through everything."
He clenched his jaw. "We swore to stop this. To protect the balance."
"The balance was already broken the moment the prophecy was buried and forgotten," she replied coldly. "You should've told her."
Calyx said nothing. There had been nights he'd watched Lyra from afar, the way her power pulsed in rhythm with the earth. He'd known. Long before she did. But to tell her would have been to admit that the prophecy wasn't just real—it was already unraveling.
"She chose him," he muttered bitterly.
"No," Elira said. "They chose each other. And now the bond has fed the relic."
Calyx turned sharply. "You mean it's complete?"
She nodded once.
"Then it's only a matter of time," he whispered.
Elira's gaze hardened. "You should leave. Before the council arrives. They'll blame you."
"I don't care."
"You should. If the realms collapse, they'll come hunting the hunter."
But Calyx wasn't listening anymore. His eyes were fixed on the ground, where Lyra's rune had scorched the earth into a pattern he recognized—one of unity, not destruction.
"She still has a choice," he said softly. "She hasn't surrendered to it completely."
"Then pray she makes the right one," Elira murmured. "Because if she doesn't…"
Her voice trailed off, but they both knew how it ended.
If Lyra falls—everything else falls with her.