Chapter 1
Things never change all at once. They never do. There are always signs, warnings... visible to those who know where to look.
Lyria could feel it in her bones, stirring deep within her blood. The forest was unnaturally quiet; no animals, no whisper of wings, no footsteps, no rustling leaves, no swaying branches... nothing. A silence that set every nerve in her body on edge. A stillness that screamed of danger.
She had felt that way all morning, barely aware of her grandmother’s instructions, moving like an automaton. She knew something was wrong, but she couldn’t pinpoint it. And she knew that by the time she finally did... it would already be too late.
— Lyria! I’m talking to you.
The annoyance in Eiria’s voice was unmistakable.
— Sorry... I zoned out.
Eiria let out an exasperated sigh.
— You don’t say? You’ve been miles away all morning. You’ve been turning that poor flower over in your hands for so long it’s already half-wilted.
Lyria lowered her gaze to her hands; the lily had faded beneath the constant brush of her fingers, its petals beginning to curl in on themselves.
She let out a weary sigh.
— I’m sorry. Today... I don’t know...
— Lyria, are you alright?
Concern spread across Eiria’s freckled face. Lyria was usually quiet, reserved, and taciturn, but something was clearly troubling her, and she had never been one to overreact.
— Maybe we should head back. I think all you need is something ridiculously sweet. Enough that they’ll have to roll us all the way back down to the valley.
Lyria smiled.
Eiria couldn’t have been more different from her. Outgoing, affectionate, endlessly cheerful. Her fiery red hair was a perfect reflection of the boundless energy she carried inside her. As far as Eiria was concerned, there wasn’t a problem in the world that dessert couldn’t fix, and on that point Lyria couldn’t have agreed more.
— I think you’re absolutely right.
They picked up their baskets and started back down the trail, laughing as they planned what they were going to eat and argued over who could eat the most.
Just as the knot in Lyria’s stomach was finally beginning to ease, every muscle in her body tightened. Her skin prickled. Her heart lurched. She seized Eiria’s hand, bringing her to an abrupt stop.
— Lyria?
— Run.
Barely a whisper, a single word that slipped from her lips without conscious thought. It didn’t even make sense to her; she only knew they had to run, that they were in danger.
— Lyria, have you lost your mind?
— Run.
This time louder. More urgent.
— Now! — she shouted.
She didn’t wait for Eiria to move. Still holding her hand, she broke into a run. The forest sprang to life. The deathly silence that had haunted Lyria all morning was shattered by birds taking flight in a frantic burst, branches snapping, and the sound of heavy footsteps closing in. Someone was coming.
The moment the village came into view, they both stopped dead in their tracks. Smoke was already twisting into ghostly shapes across the sky, while flames devoured everything, casting a hellish glow over the entire village. Figures running. Screams of terror. Cries of battle. The clash of steel...
They were under attack.
The footsteps behind them were closing in.
— We have to take the escape route — Lyria whispered.
— We can’t go around the village. They’re right behind us, they’ll catch us. And going through there is suicide.
— We don’t have a choice.
She tightened her grip on Eiria’s hand and pulled her straight into hell.
It was a nightmare. Mutilated bodies. Lifeless faces frozen in masks of terror.
— My parents...
— Eiria...
— I have to find them.
— Eiria, no.
— I have to.
Eiria looked at her friend, terrified but resolute. She wasn’t leaving without her parents.
— I’ll meet you there.
She pulled Lyria into a brief, desperate embrace before running off, her figure swallowed by the smoke.
Lyria ran toward her house. Grandmother had to be there. Their home stood apart from the rest of the village. Surely the horror hadn’t reached it yet.
It had. The house was ablaze, its windows shattered. But there was no blood. No body.
— Grandmother!
Lyria fought to steady herself, to master the panic threatening to consume her.
— Focus — she ordered herself —. Focus, damn it!
She dropped to one knee, pressing a hand against the earth. Closing her eyes, she forced herself to take slow, steady breaths, again and again, until her breathing eased and her racing pulse began to settle.
Then she felt it. A faint pull, barely there, but enough.
She ran into the forest. The darkness of the new moon made it impossible to see where she was going, but it would hide her from the enemy as well.
She hadn’t gone far before she saw her, a frail figure curled against the trunk of a tree.
— Grandmother! I’m here. I’m here.
Lyria tried to help her sit up. She was barely clinging to life.
— Child... — Her voice was little more than a whisper, but hearing it was the greatest relief Lyria could have hoped for — Child... they didn’t find you?
— Me? Is this because of me?
— My dear... why else would they attack this village? We’re too small, too insignificant. We have no power, no wealth, no place in the affairs of the world. We have nothing anyone would want.
— But that’s impossible.
— No, child. Nothing is impossible. You should know that better than anyone.
— Then... what do we do now?
The old woman opened her eyes and looked at her intently. A thousand thoughts passed through her gaze, but Lyria couldn’t read a single one.
— You go on. You know what you have to do.
Her voice was firm, leaving no room for argument.
— Grandmother... I can’t. Not yet. Not without you.
— You can’t change my fate, child. My path ends here.
— Stop!
Lyria tried to help her up, only to be met with a muffled groan. She looked down at her hands. They were covered in blood. A dark stain spread across the old woman’s abdomen. The wound was far too deep... there had already been too much blood.
Even so, she had to try. She pulled the fabric aside, exposing the wound, her hands trembling.
The old woman’s weathered hands gently closed around hers, calm in the face of terror.
— Grandmother, please... Let me try.
The old woman simply smiled and gave a slow shake of her head, gently stroking Lyria’s hands.
She placed something in Lyria’s palms. The moment she saw it, it felt cold and heavy. A simple pendant, elegant, unadorned, delicate. A gift... and a curse.
— Never forget the path you must walk. Never forget what you’ve been taught. Your duty. Promise me you never will.
— Grandmother...
— Promise me!
Lyria could only look at her helplessly, not knowing what to say or what to do. All she could manage was a nod, a broken sob escaping her lips.
The old woman’s expression softened.
— My child... the greatest gift the Goddess ever gave me was bringing you into my life and granting me the privilege of guiding you. I regret nothing. I’ve lived a long and happy life. I only hope you’ll have the chance to live one too.
Her wrinkled fingers brushed the tears from Lyria’s face, pouring the last of her strength into that single, tender gesture.
— You can’t stay any longer. Go. Now.
The woman who had guided every step of her life, the only family she had ever known, was slipping away with every passing second, and Lyria knew there was nothing she could do. Nothing she should do except let her go. But her body refused to obey.
She had to let her go.
She had to turn her back and keep moving. Everything that woman had taught her was etched into her soul. She couldn’t fail her now.
She rested her forehead against the old woman’s. Pain squeezed her heart with merciless force.
— Thank you... for everything... — the words were little more than a tear-choked whisper, yet perfectly clear to the old woman’s ears — I love you.
— My little girl... go.
Lyria closed her eyes, powerless. She clenched her jaw as she held tightly to a body that was already slipping from this world. A part of her shattered as her fingers slowly loosened their grip. Then, after a few agonizing seconds, she turned and ran without looking back.
The village had an escape route, a hidden passage meant for times of emergency. It would give them enough time to flee unseen. Lyria headed straight for it.
The pain hollowed her out, numbing every physical sensation. She had a promise to keep, a duty carved into her soul from the day she was born. She could not fail. She would not.
The old woman watched Lyria disappear into the distance. It was her duty. Her sacred calling. Oh, what a cruel calling it was. She had never wanted to be a mother. Her sacred duty had always come first. She had never questioned it, never wished for another life.
But teaching that little girl... guiding her... raising her... had been a gift beyond anything she could ever have imagined.
— I lied to you, child. There is one thing I do regret. I’m sorry I couldn’t be more of a grandmother to you than a teacher. Live, my little one...
Lyria kept running, unaware of the old woman’s final words, yet somehow sheltered by them.
As she neared the waterfall, she caught sight of several shadowy figures moving silently ahead.
Lyria drew her dagger. She wasn’t a skilled fighter, but she knew how to take people by surprise. Her slight frame made others dismiss her as harmless, and she’d long since learned that being underestimated could be an advantage. She didn’t need more than a single distraction, a single mistake.
She tightened her grip on the dagger. Slowing her breathing, she tried to disappear... to melt into the shadows.
