The cathedral's shattered stained glass cast fractured light over the hybrids, their amber eyes fixed on Lyra. They knelt in unison, their voices a haunting harmony: "Mother."
Lyra recoiled, her cobalt veins dimming. "I'm not your—"
The largest hybrid crawled forward, its form shifting—mirroring her face. "You gave us life. We are yours."
Kael edged toward the altar, where a pulsating time-crystal hovered, its core swirling with stolen youth. Gideon's essence clung to it like mold, whispering: "Take it. Reclaim what I stole."
Lyra gripped his arm. "It's a trap."
"We don't have a choice." Kael's withered hand grazed the crystal.
The cathedral trembled. A hybrid lunged from the shadows—a perfect replica of Kael at sixteen, his blade gleaming, eyes unburdened by loss.
"Father," it hissed. "Join us."
Kael froze. The hybrid fought like his past self—relentless, arrogant, alive.
"Kael, move!" Lyra shouted.
The hybrid's blade nicked his throat. Blood dripped, but Kael couldn't strike. This was him, the prince who'd trusted Varyn, who'd let Lira die.
The crystal flared. Gideon's laughter echoed. "Kill him, and reclaim your youth. Or die as you are—weak."
Lyra's hybrids stirred, torn between loyalty and Gideon's residual command. The teen-Kael sneered. "You've always been a coward."
Kael's blade trembled. To survive, he'd have to murder his own innocence.