CHAPTER 6
1355 Words
Lyra
“Mom! Dad!”
The scream tears out of me before I’m fully awake.
My body jerks violently, breath ripping into my lungs like I’ve been dragged up from the depths of the sea. Air burns as it fills my chest, sharp and frantic. Every nerve in my body screams in protest. Pain radiates everywhere—deep, aching, unfamiliar. My heart slams against my ribs as panic claws its way up my throat, wild and uncontrollable.
“Mom—Dad—!”
My voice breaks on the second word, cracking apart like glass under pressure.
I sit upright with a gasp, hands clutching at the sheets beneath me, fingers shaking so badly I can barely feel them. My surroundings blur, edges swimming, my mind scrambling to catch up with my body.
And then the memories crash in.
Not gently.
Violently.
Metal screaming against metal. The deafening shriek of tires losing control. The world spinning—no, flipping—again and again until I can’t tell which way is up. Glass exploding outward like shrapnel. Blood everywhere. Too much blood.
My mother’s hand in mine—warm, trembling, slick. Her fingers tightening weakly around my own like she’s afraid to let go.
My father’s voice shouting my name, raw and desperate, cutting through the chaos.
Lyra! Lyra, look at me—stay with us!
The cold weight pressed into my palm.
The necklace.
The necklace will lead you to the answers you seek.
A broken sob tears out of my chest.
I fold inward, curling around myself as if I can physically protect my heart from the pain ripping it apart. My arms wrap tightly around my torso, nails digging into fabric, into skin, grounding myself through the agony.
“No,” I whisper hoarsely. “Please… no…”
The word feels useless. Too small for the devastation flooding my chest.
Grief crushes me from all sides, heavy and suffocating, like I’m being buried alive beneath it. My breaths come shallow and uneven. Every inhale feels like effort. Every exhale trembles.
This isn’t real.
This can’t be real.
A soft sound breaks through my sobbing.
A door opening.
“Lyra,” a calm voice says gently. “Easy. You’re safe.”
I flinch hard, heart jolting violently as my eyes snap open.
The room snaps into focus—and everything feels wrong.
Too bright.
Too clean.
The ceiling arches high above me, carved from pale stone that gleams faintly, as though lit from within. Tall, elegant windows stretch upward along one wall, glowing with a silvery light that doesn’t resemble sunlight or moonlight. It’s softer. Otherworldly.
Strange symbols—runes, maybe—are etched into the walls, pulsing faintly, slowly, like they’re breathing.
I look down.
Thin tubes trail from my arm into glass vials mounted beside the bed. The liquid inside them isn’t clear or red or anything remotely medical. It shimmers—iridescent, almost alive, catching the light in soft hues of blue and silver.
Fear slams into me full force.
I scramble upright, ignoring the sharp spike of pain that shoots through my body. My pulse roars in my ears.
“Where am I?” I demand, voice shaking. “Where am I?!”
The man standing near the door steps forward.
He’s beautiful—but not in a way that overwhelms. His beauty is quiet, understated, almost reverent. His presence soothes and unsettles me at the same time. He moves with an effortless grace, his long robes flowing around him like liquid silk, every motion deliberate and smooth.
There’s something ancient about him. Something that doesn’t belong in the modern world I know.
Then he turns fully toward me.
And I see his ears.
Pointed.
Elegant.
Just like the ones in stories. In films. In fairy tales I was told weren’t real—weren’t possible.
My stomach drops.
Cold spreads through my veins.
“No,” I whisper. “This isn’t possible…”
“Lyra,” he says softly, his voice calm and steady. “You were in an accident. You’re currently receiving treatment.”
My heart pounds so loudly it feels like it might burst out of my chest. “Where am I?” I ask again, barely breathing, terrified of the answer.
“You are in Eldravale.”
The name echoes through me.
Not in my ears—but in my bones.
Something deep inside me stirs, shifts, like a door cracking open after centuries of being sealed shut. My head throbs as a strange sense of familiarity washes over me.
“My parents,” I choke, panic tightening my throat. “Where are my mom and dad?”
The doctor hesitates.
Just for a moment.
But that moment is enough.
It shatters me completely.
“I’m sorry, Lyra.”
The words hit like a blade straight through my chest.
They’re dead.
The realization settles with brutal clarity, sinking deep into my bones where it lodges painfully. Tears spill freely down my cheeks as my chest tightens so sharply I can barely breathe. I press a trembling hand over my heart, as if I can physically hold it together, keep it from breaking apart.
But I feel it anyway.
The crack.
The splinter.
The shattering.
Images flood my mind—my mother laughing in the kitchen, wiping her hands on a towel as she kissed my forehead. My father jogging beside me as I learned to ride a bike, cheering when I finally stayed upright. The way they looked at me like I was their entire world.
Gone.
A broken sound escapes my throat, raw and unrestrained.
And then—
The shadows move.
Not flicker.
Not shift.
They move.
The light in the room dims unnaturally as darkness pools in the corners, creeping along the walls like living ink. The air thickens, pressing down on my chest, making it harder to breathe.
The door opens again.
He walks in like darkness given form.
Tall. Broad. Dangerous.
The stranger from the club.
The one I couldn’t forget no matter how hard I tried.
The shadows cling to him, stretching and multiplying as if they recognize their master. They curl at his feet, reach toward his shoulders. His presence steals the air from my lungs.
He looks like a fallen angel—sharp jaw, dark hair, eyes so dark they seem endless, holding secrets I’m not meant to know.
My heart stutters violently.
“Kael,” the doctor says stiffly. “Good day.”
“Doctor,” Kael replies coolly, his voice smooth and controlled.
“The council wants her now,” Kael continues. “They’ve waited long enough.”
“She’s not stable,” the doctor argues, stepping protectively closer to my bed. “Forcing her to move could be dangerous.”
“What’s the council?” I ask, panic spiking. “What’s happening?”
No one answers me.
“Is this concerning the prophecy?” the doctor asks cautiously.
Kael’s gaze snaps to him.
Hard.
Cold.
“That,” Kael says quietly, “is not part of your payroll.”
The shadows surge forward at his command, coiling toward the doctor like living things.
The doctor pales instantly, backing away. “Alright,” he says quickly. “Alright. No need for threats. Shadow-wielder.”
Kael turns toward me and reaches out, effortlessly removing the drips from my arm.
“Wait—!” I protest. “You can’t just—”
“You’re coming,” he says simply.
The moment my feet touch the floor—
The world shatters.
The hospital vanishes in a blink.
I stand in a vast field stretching endlessly beneath a burning sky. Wind whips through tall grass, brushing against my legs, tugging at my clothes. The air hums with power.
A boy stands before me.
He looks at me.
And then he changes.
Bones crack. Flesh reshapes. In the blink of an eye, he becomes a massive black horse, eyes glowing with intelligence—and something ancient.
I gasp, knees buckling.
“Am I dreaming,” I whisper, “or dead… or both?”
The world tilts.
Darkness rushes up to claim me.
- Writer
