Chapter 9 Ashes Beneath the Crown

The quiet didn't last long.

Night had bled into the early hours, but no one slept. Not in the cathedral. Not under these stars. Lyra sat in the corner of the war room, watching the flicker of candlelight bounce off the stone walls. The place had once been a sanctuary-now, it smelled of blood, sweat, and old prayers that hadn't been answered in years. A map was spread across the table before her. Hand-drawn symbols marked out safe zones, enemy paths, traitor hideouts. Most of it was guesswork, stitched together from broken intel and rogue whispers. Still, it was all they had. Damon stood across from her, arms folded, his eyes fixed on the eastern ridge. "They'll regroup," he said. "Cassian doesn't take a loss like that and walk away. He's hunting again already." Lyra didn't disagree. "He'll want to make a statement next time. Something cruel. Loud."

Damon nodded, jaw clenched. "Then we beat him to it." Her gaze drifted over to the side, where Seraphina leaned against the doorframe, silent since the battle ended. She hadn't said a word about Marcus. Not one. Lyra stood, her knees stiff but steady, and approached the rogue commander. "You knew about him, didn't you?" she asked. Seraphina didn't look up. "Not enough to stop it. That's not what I asked." Silence stretched between them. Finally, Seraphina met her eyes. "He wasn't loyal. But I thought he was scared-not dangerous. That's on me."

Lyra didn't respond at first. She could've been angry. She was angry. But right now, anger wouldn't help. Strategy would. "We're going to lose more people," Lyra said softly. "You know that." Seraphina nodded. "Yes. But if you keep fighting like you did today... fewer than we would have." They shared a look-strange, hard-earned respect blooming between them. Behind them, Damon tapped the map.

"There's an old bunker north of the Hollow, he said. "Buried in the ridge. Long abandoned, but big enough to hide a small force. If Cassians's smart, he'll use it to regroup." Lyra studied the location, then looked up at him. "Then we hit it first." Damon raised an eyebrow. "You want to go to him? No," she said. "I want to remind him what happens when you underestimate a woman who's got nothing left to lose." A pause. Damon almost smiled. "He's going to hate you". "Good."

She stepped back from the table, her posture straightening, strength settling back into her shoulders. The weight was still there. It always would be. But now she carried it differently. She had chosen to fight. Not just for survival-but for change. The others began to stir, gathering weapons, whispering orders. The room shifted with quiet urgency. And Lyra, for the first time since her blood awakened under the moon, didn't feel like she was pretending to be a leader. She was one.