The glade trembled.
The Guardians of the Rift closed in, their chant rising, swirling like smoke around Lyra and Raven. The relic's impossible light throbbed in sync with Lyra's heartbeat, faster, harder, hungrier.
She couldn't stand. Her body was betraying her—magic seeping from every pore, feeding the relic as if it owned her.
Raven stood over her protectively, his fangs now bared, voice low and lethal. "If you take her, you'll never see the next cycle."
The lead guardian didn't flinch. "She's already given herself to the bond. She is the key. The sacrifice must be made."
"No one touches her," Raven growled, his shadow twisting, curling like a serpent around his arm.
Lyra reached for him weakly. "Raven… it's pulling me apart."
And it was—inside her, the ancient cold was fighting the fire, two forces clawing at her ribs. Her veins burned with frost. Her breath was smoke.
The relic pulsed again—and this time, Raven staggered.
His blood hit the earth.
"No!" Lyra screamed, dragging herself to him.
The relic didn't just feed—it linked. It was tethered to both of them now, and it wanted everything. Their bond. Their magic. Their pain.
One of the guardians thrust their staff toward Lyra, but the earth beneath them split open. Roots—burned and twisted—burst from the soil, knocking the figure back.
Lyra stood. She shouldn't have been able to. But something inside her rose—old, vengeful, and divine.
She reached out, and the relic answered.
A blast of colorless light exploded from the stone, flinging the guardians into the trees.
But it was too late.
Raven was still on the ground. His eyes were dimming.
"No, no, no—" Lyra dropped beside him, hands glowing wildly as she tried to pour magic into him.
He coughed. Smiled faintly. "You look… scary right now."
Tears spilled down her cheeks. "Shut up. Don't say anything stupid."
"I'm not dying," he murmured, barely conscious. "Just… fading."
The relic dimmed at last. The chant had stopped. Smoke curled in the air, and the guardians were gone—vanished like mist after a storm.
But so was a piece of Raven.
His body remained. But his magic… it wasn't whole anymore.
Lyra cradled him in the silence, the bond still humming between them—but hollow, frayed.
The relic didn't want him dead.
It wanted him broken.
And it succeeded.