The Enemy Within
The moon hung low, casting fractured silver over the council's courtyard as Lyra stood staring at the ancient runes carved into the stone. Her fingers traced the grooves as if she might extract some forgotten memory buried in them. But her thoughts were elsewhere—on the Triad, on her aunt Thea's revelations, and on the sudden knowledge that her life had been carved to fit a prophecy she hadn't even known existed.
"You're not sleeping," came a voice from behind.
She turned slightly. Mira.
"Couldn't if I tried." Lyra exhaled. "Every time I close my eyes, I see the fire again. My parents... and the Circle. It feels like I've stepped into someone else's nightmare."
Mira moved beside her, the tips of her boots brushing frost-lined grass. "You're living in your own story now, Ly. A brutal one. But yours."
Lyra nodded, swallowing the knot in her throat. "The prophecy—do you think it's real?"
"I think the world is full of stories people are too afraid to believe. This one just happens to be wrapped around your throat."
A shadow passed over the moon.
Lyra looked up. "We need to move before the Circle makes another strike. The Council's buying us time with their vote, but it won't hold forever."
Mira nodded. "And there's something else. Kade asked me to tell you. He found something in the eastern archives. A list."
Lyra's stomach coiled. "A list?"
"Of those connected to the Circle. Past and present. But one name stood out."
Lyra's pulse quickened. "Who?"
Mira hesitated. "It's better if you see for yourself."
The archives were colder than Lyra remembered.
She descended the spiral staircase behind Mira, the candle in her hand barely cutting through the dark. The place felt alive with silence, like the books themselves whispered warnings to those who dared pry too deeply.
Kade stood by a circular stone table, a scroll spread open before him. His face was paler than usual, and his eyes darted up as they entered.
"You found it?" Lyra asked, stepping forward.
He nodded once. "Read the fifth line."
Lyra's eyes scanned the parchment. Her breath caught.
"Ronan Thorne, operative—disavowed."
She blinked. "That's a mistake. It has to be."
Kade didn't move. "It's his name. His original surname is Thorne. I double-checked the records."
"No," Lyra whispered. "He helped me. He saved me. He fought with us."
"He may have once," Kade said gently, "but that doesn't erase the past. He could be hiding something—something bigger."
Mira's face paled. "Ronan couldn't... he wouldn't betray us."
But Lyra wasn't so sure anymore. Suddenly, every quiet glance, every careful omission in Ronan's stories—it all clattered into a shape she hadn't seen before.
"What do we do?" she asked.
"We confront him."
They found Ronan training in the courtyard, his shirt soaked in sweat, his movements precise as his blade sliced through air. He noticed them instantly, his stance shifting.
"You all look like you've seen a ghost," he said, lowering the weapon.
"Is your name Ronan Thorne?" Lyra asked.
He stilled.
Kade stepped forward. "Answer her."
Ronan's jaw worked before he nodded once. "It was. A long time ago."
Lyra's voice was thin. "Why didn't you tell us?"
"Because that name's tied to blood I tried to wash off my hands. My father was one of the original founders of the Crimson Circle."
Silence.
Mira staggered back, clutching the railing.
"But I left," Ronan said. "I ran. I broke every tie. I swore to destroy what he built."
Lyra's eyes filled with tears. "You should've told me."
"I didn't think you'd trust me if I did."
"You were right."
He flinched like she'd hit him.
Kade's voice was hard. "How do we know you're not still one of them?"
Ronan's eyes narrowed. "Because I have more reason than any of you to burn them down. My father sacrificed my mother to bind a blood oath. I watched her die screaming."
Silence fell again, colder this time.
"I've bled to protect her," Ronan said, turning to Lyra. "I won't ask for your forgiveness. But I swear to you, I'm not your enemy."
"I want to believe you," Lyra whispered. "But I don't know if I can."
That night, Lyra walked alone.
She found herself at the edge of the warded forest, where the whispering pines bent under the weight of ancient magic. Her thoughts spiraled like the wind—Ronan's betrayal, or maybe just his silence. The prophecy. Her aunt.
She knelt by a small brook, watching her reflection ripple.
"Who are you now?" she whispered.
Behind her, something cracked.
She spun—only to see Thea emerge from the trees.
"You shouldn't be here," Lyra said.
"I could say the same." Thea stepped forward. "You saw the list?"
Lyra nodded. "He said his father was a founder."
"He was. And so was mine."
Lyra's stomach dropped. "What?"
Thea's voice was soft. "We're tied to them by blood, Lyra. That's why the prophecy matters. Because it's not just about breaking the Circle—it's about breaking us."
"You said I was the key."
"You are. But only if you choose the truth over the past. Even when it hurts."
Lyra clenched her fists. "Then let it hurt."
The next morning, alarms rang.
Smoke curled from the west wing of the stronghold. Warriors rushed through the halls, weapons drawn.
Lyra bolted from her chambers, Mira behind her. "What happened?"
"The Circle," a guard shouted. "They breached the gate!"
Lyra's blood turned to ice.
"They're not here for a battle," Mira said. "They're here for you."
In the distance, a shriek echoed through the halls.
And then a voice—familiar and mocking—rang out over the fire.
"Come out, little wolf. We have your aunt."
Lyra froze.
"No," she whispered.
Mira looked at her. "It's a trap."
"I know," Lyra said, turning toward the blaze. "But I'm going anyway."