Chapter 226

Lark's POV

I led the dragon deeper into the twisting tunnels, my heart racing beneath the illusion of Lyrien's calm exterior. Every few steps, I glanced back, making sure Kael was still following. His expression remained concerned, focused—exactly as I needed it to be. My performance had to be flawless; dragons were notoriously difficult to fool.

"I can sense Lorcan just ahead," I said, allowing my voice to tremble slightly, the perfect imitation of Lyrien's worried tone. "His energy is weakening by the minute."

As we navigated the narrow passages, my thoughts drifted to how I'd found myself in this position—playing a deadly game with one of the most dangerous creatures in existence.

One year ago. That's when everything changed.

Lorcan had returned from the divine realm, transformed. No longer the impulsive boy who'd once looked at me with desire in his eyes, but a man with power radiating from every pore. I still remember the way he strode into the Great Hall during the welcoming ceremony, his confidence magnetic, his newfound authority intoxicating.

"Lark," he'd said when I approached him at the celebration, his voice cooler than I remembered. "You look well."

I'd spent three hours preparing for that moment—my hair perfectly styled, my dress clinging to every curve, my smile practiced to perfection. Yet his eyes barely lingered on me before drifting across the room.

Following his gaze, I saw her for the first time. Tiny, fragile-looking, with those ridiculous transparent wings that sparkled in the candlelight. Pury. Even her name was absurd. A pixie—a literal pixie—had captured Lorcan's attention when he had once been mine.

"We should talk," I'd purred, placing my hand on his arm, feeling the new muscles beneath his formal attire. "I've missed you."

He'd gently removed my hand. "Lark, we've been over this. What happened between us was a mistake. I was young, immature."

"You loved me," I insisted, feeling desperate despite my pride screaming at me to maintain composure.

His eyes softened with pity—pity!—as he shook his head. "I was infatuated. There's a difference." Then he'd walked away, straight toward the pixie, who blushed as he approached.

For months after Lorcan's return, I tried everything. I wore my most revealing outfits when I knew he'd be around. I spread rumors about Pury's questionable past (mostly fabricated, but who would know?). I even attempted to rekindle our physical connection, cornering him after a Council meeting, pressing my body against his, reminding him of pleasures we'd once shared.

He'd firmly pushed me away, his eyes cold. "This needs to stop, Lark. I'm with Pury now. She's my mate—my true mate."

"That's impossible," I'd spat. "She's not even your species!"

"The divine realm has ways of revealing truths we can't see here," he'd responded. "I'm sorry if that hurts you, but it's reality. You need to accept it and move on."

But I couldn't move on. I wouldn't. The Luna position should have been mine. I'd prepared for it all my life—studied the traditions, cultivated the right friendships, maintained the perfect image. My family had invested everything in positioning me as the future Luna. Without that, what was I?

That's when she found me.

I was at The Creaking Beam tavern in the seedier part of town, drinking alone, something I'd never have done before my fall from grace. The hooded figure slid into the seat across from me without invitation.

"Your pain radiates from you like a beacon," she said, her voice melodic despite its underlying harshness. When she lowered her hood, I gasped at the silver hair and violet eyes—features so similar to Lyrien's, yet colder, more calculating.

"Who are you?" I demanded, my hand instinctively moving to the small dagger hidden in my boot.

"Some know me as Kely," she replied, a slight smile playing at her lips. "But my true name is Morgravia. I'm a practitioner of the darker arts."

"A witch," I whispered, immediately distrustful. Magic users were respected, but dark witches were feared even among supernatural beings. "What do you want from me?"

"To offer you what you desire most," she said simply. "Lorcan Blackwood."

I laughed bitterly, pushing my half-empty glass away. "If you know so much, then you know he's chosen that winged insect over me. Nothing can change that."

"Nothing?" Morgravia arched an eyebrow. "Are you certain?"

I studied her face, looking for the deception. Everyone wanted something; no one offered help without expecting payment. "What's your price?"

"Help with a mutual problem: Lyrien Blackwood."

The name sent ice through my veins. Lyrien—Lorcan's twin sister, the one who'd always looked at me with suspicion, who'd warned her brother against me from the beginning.

"I don't trust you," I said flatly, standing to leave. "And I'm not interested in your magic tricks."

Morgravia didn't try to stop me. She merely smiled. "Before you go, perhaps you'd like to speak with someone."

I turned, following her gaze to a dark corner of the tavern. A hooded figure sat alone, nursing a drink. There was something familiar about his posture that made my heart stutter.

"Who—?"

"Why don't you find out?" she suggested.

Curiosity overrode caution. I approached the table, and when the figure looked up, I nearly collapsed. Lorcan's face—exactly his face—stared back at me, his eyes filled with the desire I'd been desperate to see again.

"Lark," he said, his voice a perfect match, "I've been a fool."

I knew—intellectually, I knew—this couldn't be real. Yet when he stood and pulled me into his arms, his scent, his touch, the feel of his lips against mine—it was all exactly as I remembered.

"I've missed you," this false Lorcan whispered against my ear. "I made a mistake with Pury. It's you I want. It's always been you."

Words I'd dreamed of hearing. I melted against him, wanting desperately to believe.

Then, mid-kiss, his features began to shift. The handsome face morphed into that of a stranger—a tavern worker I'd seen serving drinks earlier. He blinked in confusion before Morgravia waved her hand, and he walked away in a daze, no memory of what had transpired.

"A simple illusion," Morgravia explained when I returned to her table, my legs shaking. "But it could be reality. Help me eliminate Lyrien, and I'll ensure Lorcan sees you as he should—as his true mate, his Luna."

I sat down heavily, my mind racing with possibilities. What she was proposing was dangerous, forbidden—yet the taste of Lorcan's lips, even from an illusion, had reignited every desire I'd tried to suppress.

"You can really make him love me?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper. "Make him forget about Pury?"

Morgravia's smile widened. "Love, desire, devotion—all can be influenced by the right magic. Once Lyrien is gone, his twin bond will be severed. In that vulnerable state, he'll be susceptible to... suggestion."

"And all I have to do is help you eliminate Lyrien?" The words felt strange on my tongue—not because of any moral objection, but because it seemed too simple. "Why do you need me?"

"Lyrien trusts her brother. Lorcan trusts you, despite everything. And they both know me as Kely, a figure of authority. Together, we can separate them, isolate them, and strike when they're most vulnerable."

I should have asked more questions. Should have questioned why she wanted Lyrien dead. Should have wondered about the consequences. But all I could think about was Lorcan looking at me the way he used to—the way he now looked at Pury.

"I'll do it," I said, extending my hand across the table. "Whatever you need."

Morgravia clasped my hand, her touch unnaturally cold. "You won't regret this, Lark. Together, we'll reshape both our futures."