Eira’s Manipulation
Eira’s presence dominated the cavern, her every movement exuding power and control. She paced slowly before the twins, her silver eyes gleaming as she spoke. “Your mother suffered greatly for you,” she began, her voice cold and precise. “But she wasn’t the only one.”
Lyra and Eryon exchanged uneasy glances, the weight of Eira’s words settling over them like a thick fog.
“I was there when Isla betrayed her,” Eira continued, her tone sharp. “Seraphine was the strongest of us, the one destined to lead. But Isla—she was consumed by jealousy. She wanted what your mother had and was willing to destroy her for it.”
Lyra frowned, her instincts screaming against Eira’s narrative. “Isla saved us,” she said quietly. “Didn’t she?”
Eira’s gaze snapped to Lyra, her expression softening, though her tone remained icy. “She saved you to take you for herself,” she said. “She didn’t want Seraphine to raise you because she knew you would surpass her. She wanted you weak, dependent on her.”
Eryon clenched his fists, his amber eyes flickering with barely contained anger. “If that’s true,” he said, his voice low, “why didn’t Seraphine come for us sooner?”
“She tried,” Eira said smoothly, her expression unreadable. “But Isla’s treachery ran deep. She cast your mother into a pit of suffering and left her to rot.”
Lyra’s heart twisted, doubt and confusion warring within her. She glanced at Eryon, who seemed less conflicted, his shoulders squared as though he were preparing for a battle yet to come.
Eira’s gaze softened as she stepped closer to Lyra, placing a hand on her shoulder. “You’ve endured so much, my dear,” she said gently. “But with the artifact, you can rise above it all. You can rewrite your destiny. No one will ever take from you again.”
Lyra hesitated, her grip on the artifact tightening. The whispers grew louder, their insistent voices tugging at the edges of her mind.
Eryon, emboldened by Eira’s words, nodded. “If we have the power to stop them, we should use it.”
Eira smiled faintly, her silver eyes gleaming with triumph. “Good,” she said. “You’re beginning to understand.”
