Lyra awoke in a cage of light.
Not true light—this was something sharper, colder, like moonlight distilled into blades. Her throat burned where the Scourge's thorns had pierced it, but no blood dripped from the wounds. Instead, faint tendrils of shadow coiled around the marks, stitching her flesh with whispers.
She sat up, her head swimming. The ground beneath her was neither stone nor soil, but a shimmering black expanse that reflected fractured versions of herself. Above, a sky of writhing stormclouds pulsed with green lightning. This wasn't the forest. This wasn't *anywhere*.
*"Welcome to Umbra,"* purred a voice. *"The cradle of storms. The prison of gods."*
The Scourge stood before her, its thorned body shifting like smoke. Up close, Lyra saw that its "face" wasn't empty—it was a vortex of tiny, dying stars, each one winking out as she stared.
"What do you want from me?" she demanded, her voice steadier than she felt.
*"What you've always wanted,"* it said, circling her. *"Answers. Power. A purpose louder than a village girl's whisper of a life."*
Lyra's fists clenched. "I didn't break the Stones for *power*. I did it to save Kellen. To stop the lies."
*"And yet here we are."* The Scourge flicked a clawed hand. The air rippled, revealing a vision of Elmshadow. The Hollowing had spread, devouring cottages and twisting villagers into grotesque statues of frost and rot. Among them, Mara stood frozen mid-scream, her hammer raised defiantly.
"You promised they weren't the enemy!" Lyra lunged, but an invisible force slammed her back.
*"I said they were *my* enemies,"* the Scourge corrected. *"Yours are still alive. For now."* The vision shifted to Kellen, huddled in a cavern with a handful of survivors. The boy clutched a jagged runestone shard, its faint glow holding the encroaching shadows at bay.
Lyra swallowed. "Why show me this?"
*"Because you're the Vessel. The bridge between my world and theirs. And tonight, you'll help me finish what the Sentinel began."*
---
The Scourge called it the *Eclipse Court*—a cathedral of living wood and shattered constellations. Vines heavy with black fruit curled around pillars, and the air tasted of burnt honey. Lyra trailed the Scourge through its labyrinthine halls, the wind (her traitorous, cursed wind) nudging her forward whenever she hesitated.
*"The Sentinel was not always a jailer,"* the Scourge said, pausing beside a mural etched into obsidian. It depicted a radiant figure cloaked in sunlight, standing beside a shadowy twin crowned in thorns. *"We were sovereigns once. Twin rulers of a realm unbroken. But the Sentinel craved worship. *Order*. And so it carved our world into pieces, trapping me here and feeding on the fear of mortals."*
Lyra studied the mural. The shadowy figure's face had been chiseled away. "If you're equals, why do you need me?"
*"Because the Sentinel's chains bound my name as well as my body,"* the Scourge hissed, thorns bristling. *"Your blood carries the mark of the Stones. You can walk the path it cannot."*
"What path?"
Instead of answering, the Scourge led her to a pool of liquid night. *"Look."*
Lyra peered in. The surface showed a memory not her own: a young woman with her face, standing in a circle of elders. *No—not elders. Figures in robes of starlight.* They chanted as the woman plunged a dagger into her heart, her blood splashing onto a stone altar. The earth shook. The first Standing Stone erupted from the ground.
*"The first Vessel,"* the Scourge said. *"She gave her life to create the Sentinel's prison. But her bloodline endured. Yours."*
Lyra recoiled. "You want me to undo what she did?"
*"I want you to choose better than she did."* The Scourge's starlit void of a face tilted. *"Break the Sentinel's throne, and I will spare what's left of your world. Refuse…"* The pool's image shifted again, showing Kellen's makeshift camp overrun by Hollowing. *"…and watch them die, knowing you could have saved them."*
---
The Scourge gave her a dagger.
Its hilt was bone, its blade a sliver of glacial ice that never melted. *"The Sentinel's heart lies in the heart of Elmshadow,"* it said. *"Find it. Cut it out. And you will free us all."*
The wind carried her back.
One moment, Lyra stood in the Eclipse Court; the next, she stumbled into the ruins of her village. The Hollowing had turned the air to poison, thick and greasy, but the dagger's chill kept the shadows at bay. She crept past the frostbitten corpses of neighbors, her stomach churning.
A hand grabbed her wrist.
Lyra nearly stabbed the figure before recognizing Kellen's gaunt face. The boy's eyes were fever-bright, his fingers clutching the runestone shard. "They said you freed the Scourge," he whispered. "They said you're one of *them* now."
"I'm trying to fix this," Lyra said, pulling free. "Where are the others?"
"Gone. Taken by the shadows. Only me and *her* left."
"Her?"
A crossbow bolt embedded itself in the post beside Lyra's head.
"Move, and the next one goes through your throat," said a woman's voice.
Lyra turned. On the roof of the granary crouched a stranger in a tattered cloak, her face obscured by a mask of beaten copper. A name was etched into the metal: *Aelin*.
"You're late, Vessel," the woman said, reloading her crossbow. "But now that you're here, let's negotiate."
---
**Chapter 3 Word Count**: 1,497
---
**Preview of Chapter 4: The Shattered Altar**
Aelin reveals herself as a former Vessel who resisted the Scourge's influence, and warns Lyra that destroying the Sentinel's heart will unleash a far greater calamity. Meanwhile, the Scourge's patience wanes, and the survivors of Elmshadow discover a hidden truth about Lyra's lineage in the ruins of the Standing Stones…
Ready for more twists? Let me know how you'd like to steer the story next! 🌑