Chapter 4 TRUTH WRITTEN IN FLAME

Lyra's POV

I ran. Through the halls of Blackthorne Keep, past confused servants, out into sunlight that felt like lies. My car keys shook in my hands. The engine roared to life, and I drove home like demons chased me.

Maybe they did.

"Mother!" I burst through Moonhaven's front door. "Father! Where are you?"

They sat in the living room, side by side on the sofa, staring at nothing.

"Lyra." Mother's head turned toward me, movements too smooth. Too practiced. "You're home early."

"Something's wrong." I grabbed her hands. Cold. Why were they so cold? "Damon and Selene... I saw them..."

"Damon loves you," Father said. The words came out like he was reading from a script. "The wedding is tomorrow. Everything is perfect."

"No! Listen to me!" I shook Mother's shoulders. "They're planning something. Something terrible."

"You're having pre wedding nerves." Mother patted my cheek with those cold, cold hands. "Go rest. Tomorrow is a big day."

"Stop saying that!" My magic sputtered, trying to wake up. "What's wrong with you? Why won't you listen?"

"Everything is perfect," they said together. Same tone. Same empty smile.

I backed away from them. From these strangers wearing my parents' faces. "This isn't real. This can't be real."

They went back to staring at nothing.

I ran to Grandmother's study, slamming the door behind me. Her books still lined the walls. Her scent still lingered. Lavender and magic and safety.

"Help me," I whispered to her ghost. "Please. I don't understand what's happening."

My phoenix magic stirred. Just a little. Just enough. It pulled me toward the far wall, where Grandmother's portrait hung crooked.

I straightened it.

The wall clicked.

A hidden compartment opened, revealing a book I'd never seen before. Bound in scales that shimmered between red and gold. Grandmother's true grimoire. The one she'd mentioned but never shown us.

The moment my fingers touched it, the world exploded into visions.

No. Not visions. Memories. But not my memories.

I stood in Damon's study, but I wasn't me. I was... somewhere else. Watching. Listening. The soul echo spell, Grandmother's voice whispered in my mind. Our family's last defense. It shows truth when truth is hidden.

Damon sat at his desk. Selene draped herself across his lap. This was last night. While I'd been lying in bed thinking about claw marks, they'd been here. Together.

"Three years," Damon growled, and his voice held none of the warmth I knew. "Three years of pretending to love that pathetic girl. It ends tomorrow."

"Patience, my alpha." Selene traced his jaw with one finger. "The moonbane I've been feeding her has weakened her defenses perfectly. She can barely light a candle now."

Moonbane. The word echoed in my mind. A poison that killed magic slowly. Gently. Like going to sleep and never waking up.

"The extraction ritual is prepared?" A new voice made me turn. Magnus Blackthorne entered the study, powerful and terrifying. "We only get one chance."

"Everything's ready, Father." Damon pulled out papers. The same ones I'd seen this morning. "The ritual circle is complete. Once she's in position, the pendant will anchor her. She won't be able to move. Won't be able to fight."

"And her parents?" Magnus asked.

"Under compliance spells for weeks now," Selene laughed, and it sounded like breaking glass. "They believe what we tell them to believe. After tomorrow, they'll believe their daughter died tragically trying to share her power with her new mate."

"The phoenix magic will break the curse on our bloodline," Magnus said.

But I'd read every book in Grandmother's study. I knew every curse that plagued the great packs.

The Blackthorne curse didn't exist.

"Show me the extraction process once more," Magnus commanded.

Selene produced a crystal vial from her pocket. "The ritual pulls the magical essence from her soul. Drop by drop. It takes hours."

"Hours?" Damon frowned. "You said it would be quick."

"Quick deaths don't extract pure essence." Selene's smile was poison sweet. "She needs to burn slowly. From the inside out. Every scream, every plea, every moment of agony purifies the magic."

"Fine." Damon's voice held no emotion. None. "As long as we get what we need."

"The pendant is the key," Magnus reminded them. "Without it anchoring her, she might be able to use what's left of her magic to escape."

"She wears it constantly." Damon's laugh made me want to vomit. "Keeps touching it like it's precious. If only she knew it's drinking her power every second."

The vision shattered.

I came back to myself on the floor of Grandmother's study, tears streaming down my face. The truth burned worse than any fire.

Three years of lies.

Three years of kisses that meant nothing.

Three years of "I love you" while they planned my murder.

And tomorrow... tomorrow they would rip my magic from my soul while I screamed. Tomorrow they would kill me slowly, carefully, thoroughly.

Tomorrow was not my wedding day.

Tomorrow was the day I was scheduled to die.