Page 5

"Something like that." Cade's voice was still rough, but some of the wildness had faded from his eyes. "Can you stand?"

"I think so." Lyra tested her legs, grateful when they held her weight. The silvery marks on her palm and wrist had stopped spreading, settling into an intricate pattern that looked almost like circuitry. "The rune—it's different now."

They both looked down at the obsidian stone.

The crack was still there, but it no longer looked like damage.

Instead, it seemed purposeful, like a door that had been opened just a crack.

Light leaked through the fissure—not the harsh white light from before, but something softer and more complex, like moonlight filtered through water.

"It's claimed you," Cade said, his voice carefully neutral. "I can smell it on your magic."

"Claimed me how?"

Before Cade could answer, footsteps echoed on the stairs again. Nico appeared in the cellar doorway, took one look at the scene, and sighed dramatically.

"Well," he said, settling onto the bottom step with practiced ease. "I see we've moved past the 'look but don't touch' phase of supernatural crisis management."

"She's marked," Cade said without preamble. "The rune's bound to her now."

"I can see that." Nico's pale eyes studied the patterns on Lyra's palm with professional interest. "Quite elegantly done, actually. Much more sophisticated than the usual founder's mark."

"The usual founder's mark?" Lyra held up her hand, staring at the silvery traceries. "This happens to other people?"

"Not for about two hundred years," Nico said cheerfully.

"But theoretically, yes. Each founder bloodline carries the potential for bonding with their ancestral rune.

Most people never get close enough to trigger it, and those who do usually have the good sense not to touch ancient magical artifacts with their bare hands. "

"So what does this mean?" Lyra gestured at her marked palm. "Am I stuck here now? Magically bound to the inn forever?"

"Not exactly." Nico rose from the step and moved closer to examine the rune itself. "The mark creates a connection, not a leash. You're tied to the rune's purpose now, which means you're tied to keeping the seal strong."

"What seal?"

"The one that's been keeping something very old and very hungry locked beneath this inn for the past two centuries," Nico said matter-of-factly. "The same something that's been stirring ever since you first touched the rune."

Dread washed the color from her face. "Please tell me you're joking."

"I'm afraid not." Nico's expression turned serious. "The founders didn't just build a town here, Lyra. They built a prison. And you've just volunteered to be one of its wardens."

"Volunteered?" Lyra's voice rose an octave. "I didn't volunteer for anything! I just touched a stone!"

"An ancient magical artifact that your bloodline was specifically designed to interface with," Nico corrected gently. "The choice was made the moment you inherited founder blood. Touching the rune just... activated your inheritance."

Cade's arm tightened around her waist, and Lyra realized she was swaying on her feet. The weight of responsibility, of ancient magic and terrible purpose, was settling over her like a lead blanket.

"I can't do this," she whispered. "I'm not equipped for ancient seals and magical prisons. I make pottery explode when I'm nervous."

"Your chaos magic is actually perfect for this," Nico said, surprising her. "The seal requires constant small adjustments to maintain stability. Chaos magic is inherently adaptable, able to respond to changing conditions without conscious direction."

"That doesn't make me feel better."

"It should." Cade's voice was quiet but certain. "You're not doing this alone."

Lyra looked up at him, startled by the unshakable certainty in his tone. "What do you mean?"

"The founders' binding required three bloodlines," Nico explained. "Witch, wolf, and fae. The seal is stronger when all three are present and working together."

"You're saying we're all connected to this thing now?"

"We always were," Cade said. "We just didn't know it until you woke everything up."

Lyra stared down at the rune, at the soft light leaking through its crack, and felt the weight of centuries pressing down on her shoulders. Her grandmother's legacy wasn't just an inn—it was a responsibility that stretched back to the founding of Mistwhisper Falls itself.

"Holy sage," she breathed. "What have I gotten myself into?"

"Something much larger than any of us expected," Nico said. "But also something that might finally bring balance back to this town."

"Balance?"

"The seal has been weakening for decades," Nico explained. "Without active founder bloodlines to maintain it, it's been slowly degrading. Your awakening the rune might actually be the key to strengthening it again."

Lyra looked between them—the grumpy wolf shifter who'd carried her to safety and the mysterious fae who seemed to know far more than he was telling—and felt something settle in her chest. Fear, yes, but also a strange sense of rightness.

Maybe this was what she'd been looking for without knowing it. A place to belong. A purpose beyond just fixing up an old inn.

"Okay," she said, surprised by how steady her voice sounded. "Where do we start?"