The Weight of Power
Zyra's body still felt wrong.
The fire in her veins clashed violently against the abyss, but instead of tearing her apart, it wove itself into her very essence.
She should have burned.
She should have been consumed.
She should have ceased to exist.
Yet, she stood. Whole. Changed. More.
Her fingers twitched, instinctively curling as power surged beneath her skin—unpredictable, chaotic, and dangerously intoxicating.
She barely noticed the air shifting around them, the battlefield now deathly silent.
They were watching her.
Riven. Kieran. Their warriors. The enemy.
All of them.
Not with awe. Not with admiration.
But with fear.
Even Kieran, her mate, hadn't let go of her yet, as if uncertain of what she had become. His grip on her wrist was firm, possessive. His golden eyes burned as they raked over her, searching—for her.
"Zyra," Kieran finally said, his voice low, strained.
It was all he needed to say.
Because she understood what he wasn't asking.
"Are you still you?"
Zyra exhaled, forcing herself to push past the strange, unnatural hunger clawing at her insides.
"I am."
At least… she thought she was.
But before she could answer, the enemy moved.
---
The Enemy Unleashed
The dark-armored figure who had been watching stepped forward, his sword gleaming under the fractured moonlight. His voice was cold amusement and calculated danger.
"Tell me," he said, tilting his head, "how does it feel to wield something that shouldn't exist?"
Zyra met his gaze, her pulse slow but heavy. Measured. Controlled.
"What do you want?" Kieran's voice cut in, sharp and protective.
The warrior smiled, unfazed. "I want to see what happens when the impossible becomes real."
Without warning—he lunged.
His blade moved too fast.
Zyra had no time to think, no time to react—
But her body moved before her mind did.
A force erupted from her palm, neither pure abyss nor fire, but something twisted and fused.
It lashed out—ravenous, alive, deadly.
The enemy warrior barely had time to gasp before the energy collided with him, ripping through his armor like paper.
The battlefield stilled.
Then—screams.
The man convulsed, choked. The energy didn't just strike him—it devoured him. The power inside Zyra pulsed, thrumming in response. It was hungry.
For the briefest moment, a part of her wanted to let it.
But then—Kieran.
His hand found hers again, a grounding force. A reminder.
"Zyra," he said, but this time, there was something urgent in his voice.
And she knew why.
The power inside her wasn't stopping.
She could still feel the dying man's soul unraveling, sinking into her, fueling her.
A shudder wracked through her body.
"No."
She ripped her hand back.
The moment her connection to the energy snapped, the man collapsed, lifeless.
Zyra staggered, breathless.
The battlefield was silent again.
And everyone was looking at her now—not as a warrior, not even as a fated mate.
But as something far more dangerous.
---
The Rift Between Them
Riven was the first to react.
His expression was grim as he turned to Kieran.
"You need to get her out of here," he muttered. "Now."
Kieran's jaw clenched, but he didn't disagree.
Zyra, however, did.
"No." Her voice was steady, despite the storm inside her. "I'm not running."
"Zyra—"
"I am not running."
Her power had chosen this moment to awaken. If she left now, it would prove what they all feared—that she wasn't in control.
And she refused to let that fear win.
But as she looked at Kieran, she realized he wasn't just afraid for her.
He was afraid of her.
That realization sent an ache through her chest, more painful than the fire and abyss fighting for dominance inside her.
She opened her mouth—to say what, she didn't know.
But Kieran stepped closer, lowering his voice.
"Then prove it," he said, voice low, dangerous. "Control it, Zyra. Because if you can't—"
His fingers brushed her wrist, and she felt the unspoken warning.
If you can't… I will.
A cold shiver ran through her.
She wasn't sure if that was a promise… or a threat.
---
The Next Battle
The enemy forces hadn't attacked again.
They were waiting. Watching.
Because now, Zyra was the unknown factor.
The unpredictability of her power had thrown fate itself into uncertainty.
And uncertainty was more dangerous than any war.
She squared her shoulders.
"Then let's give them an answer," she said, eyes blazing.
Kieran hesitated, then gave a slow, measured nod.
And together, they turned to face the next wave of enemies.
This time, they wouldn't be fighting just for survival.
They would be fighting for control.
Of power. Of fate.
Of each other.
---