Chapter 2797: Story 2798: The Daughter Who Belonged to Hunger

“Father, I’ve missed you.”

Lyra’s voice was hers, yet the words carried the weight of a thousand forgotten lifetimes.

The faceless giant lowered its head. Across its body, dead stars began to glow, one after another, as if the universe were remembering its first sunrise.

Ronan tightened his grip on Lyra’s hand.

“Lyra, look at me.”

She turned toward him, but her eyes had changed. Golden light filled them, surrounding seven tiny black stars that pulsed with her heartbeat.

“I know you,” she whispered to the giant. “I remember the silence before the first breath. I remember when you held me.”

Seratha stumbled backward.

“No. That memory was erased.”

Lyra smiled sadly. “You erased the daughter. You never erased the heart.”

The silver chains around the giant trembled. Every screaming world at their ends fell silent.

Then the creature extended one enormous hand toward her.

“My little star,” it said. “You have carried my stolen heart for so long.”

Ronan stepped between them.

“She isn’t yours to take.”

The giant tilted its faceless head.

“Then tell me, First Son. Who does she belong to?”

Ronan opened his mouth, but no answer came. The forgotten child inside him stirred, and his two heartbeats suddenly fell out of rhythm.

One beat belonged to Ronan.

The other belonged to something that had never been born.

Don’t let her touch him, the forgotten child warned. If she returns his heart, he will remember what he was.

“What was he?” Ronan whispered.

The child did not answer.

Instead, black cracks spread across Ronan’s chest. Through them, he saw a vision: himself kneeling beneath a sky without stars, holding Lyra’s lifeless body while six crowned figures stood behind him.

And at his feet lay the heart of the faceless giant.

Ronan gasped.

In the vision, Lyra opened her eyes.

“You promised you would forget me,” she said.

The vision shattered.

“Ronan?” Lyra reached for him.

He caught her wrist. “What did I do to you?”

Pain crossed her face. “You saved me.”

“Then why do I remember killing you?”

“Because both things are true.”

The chamber split with a thunderous crack.

Beyond the broken floor, a vast battlefield emerged, stretching beneath a blood-red moon. Armies of the dead stood opposite armies without faces. Above them, a throne made from seven beating hearts waited beneath a crown of black fire.

Seratha fell to her knees.

“The second war,” she whispered. “It has found us.”

The giant reached toward Lyra again.

But this time, she raised her hand.

“Not yet, Father.”

The seventh heartbeat thundered.

The giant froze.

For the first time, a face appeared upon its head—not Ronan’s, not Seratha’s, but Lyra’s own.

And that face was weeping.

“My daughter,” the creature said, “you must choose which of us survives.”

A blade of black light appeared in Lyra’s hand.

One end pointed toward the giant.

The other pointed toward Ronan.

Then a new voice rose from the battlefield below.

It sounded exactly like Lyra.

“Kill the First Son,” it commanded, “or I will destroy creation again.”

Ronan stared at the woman beside him.

Lyra’s lips had not moved.

And somewhere inside his chest, the forgotten child began to scream.

“THAT IS NOT OUR SISTER!”