The Iron-Spine Mountains weren't just watching Lyra anymore; they were her prison.
Behind her, black smoke from what was left of Solis-Vara climbed into the sky, messing up the clean mountain air. But the smoke wasn't the worst thing. Way up in the swirling storm clouds she'd made, a bright gold circle glared. The Heavenly Eye was hunting. Every time Lyra used a bit of her moon power, the gold spot pulsed, and a burning ray of sun shot through the clouds, hitting the mountain like a whip.
Lyra stumbled into a crack in the rocks, gasping for air. Her hands were black from the Inversion trick she'd done at the gate, and it felt like her insides were full of hot, broken glass.
Sun-Burn. Every cultivator's worst fear—when the wrong kind of energy gets past your defenses and starts burning your soul up. If she couldn't stop the fire inside her, the third silver drop she'd worked so hard on would vanish, and her power would be ruined.
Need to hide, she whispered, her voice rough.
She leaned against the cold cave wall. She had to get her energy flowing, but as soon as she touched the silver drops in her core, a bright light lit up the cave entrance.
BOOM.
A bolt of sun energy struck the ledge right outside, sending hot rocks flying into the cave. The Eye had found her.
It's tracking my energy, she thought, her silver eyes wide with fear. The more I fight the burn, the easier I am to spot.
She forced herself to be still. She stopped using her power, letting her moon energy sleep. It was awful; without her magic, the Sun-Burn started eating her up, making her shake from the heat.
The quiet in the cave broke with a sound that froze her: metal clanging on stone.
They were here.
Not just regular soldiers, and not the High Priest. These were the Solar Hounds—killers who hunted down heretics in the dark. They wore light armor that reflected light, making them hard to see in the shadows. Each carried a Scent-Orb that tracked moon energy.
The trail ends here, a voice said at the cave entrance. The heretic is hurt. Her frost is leaking.
Lyra peeked out. Three of them. They moved like predators, their boots quiet on the ground. One held a glowing orb that pulsed yellow when it pointed at Lyra's hiding place.
She couldn't use her powers. If she shot out ice, the Eye above would burn the whole mountain to get to her. She had to fight like a normal person.
Reaching back, she grabbed the Sun-Iron sword. It was heavy and cold. She couldn't use its magic, but a strong sword was still a good weapon.
The leader stepped into the cave, holding a curved dagger dripping with orange liquid—Sun-Venom, that would stop a cultivator's power.
Come out, girl, the Hound whispered. Make this easy. The Emperor is quick to forgive those who admit their mistakes.
Lyra didn't admit anything. She attacked.
No fast moves. Just raw strength born from desperation. She swung the claymore. The Hound jumped, trying to get over the blade and attack from above.
But Lyra knew how to move, from years of pulling in fishing nets.
She let go of the sword with one hand, using its weight to spin. As the Hound hung in the air, she slammed her shoulder into his chest, crushing him against the cave wall.
CRUNCH.
The armor broke. Lyra didn't stop. She grabbed his wrist and twisted until he dropped the venom dagger. Catching it, she stabbed him through the gap in his helmet.
He didn't even scream; the venom worked fast, turning him into a boiling mess.
KORAN! the other two Hounds yelled. They gave up on being sneaky, their armor glowing to light up the cave.
Lyra stood over the dead killer, dagger in one hand, sword in the other. She looked like a frost demon, hair bloody and skin glowing with a strange light.
Two left, she said.
The Hounds charged. They were smart; they didn't try to fight head-on. They danced around her, making small cuts on her arms and legs. Each cut added to the burning inside her.
Lyra's vision blurred. She could feel the Eye above getting closer, the mountain shaking as it got ready to attack.
If I'm going to die, I'm taking the mountain with me, she thought.
She stopped holding back. She let the silver drops spin as fast as they could.
LUNAR ART: THE FROZEN HEART!
She didn't throw the energy out. She pulled it in.
Every bit of moon energy in her body went into her heart, making a point of cold. For a second, Lyra's heart stopped. The Sun-Burn was gone, frozen by her power.
The shockwave pulled the two Hounds toward her. As they got close, Lyra swung the sword in a circle.
The blade, powered by her soul, made a sad sound. It cut through both Hounds, armor and bone, like they were nothing.
But the Eye had seen her.
The clouds vanished, burned away by a column of light. The Judgment of the Sun was coming.
Lyra looked up, her silver eyes showing the end. She was too weak to move, and her Frozen Heart had paralyzed her.
So this is the end, she thought.
As the light was about to hit, a shadow fell over the cave. It wasn't a cloud. It was a thing—a black cloak that seemed to eat the light.
The golden beam hit the cloak and vanished. No bang, no heat, no sound. The cloak just drank the sun.
A person landed quietly at the cave entrance. He was small, bent over, and wrapped in bandages that smelled old. He looked at the dead Hounds, then at Lyra.
The Shroud of Shadows, the old man coughed, his voice like dry leaves. You're late, little Empress. I've been holding this cloak for six hundred years.
He tossed a corner of the cloak over Lyra. The Eye in the sky lost her. The golden light faded, and the mountains went back to being cold and dark.
Lyra looked at the old man, losing consciousness. Who...?
A librarian, he chuckled, showing his empty gums. And you have a big fine to pay.
Lyra's world went black as she fell into his arms.