LYRA'S REDEMPTION

AWorldComingUndone

A World Coming Undone

Lyra’s POV

Orion's face trembled, a strange mix of guilt and something else—probably sympathy. His boots

crunching on the ice, he stepped forward. "Lyra, I learned of what happened. Me...."

"Save your empathy." My voice was more sharp than I had intended, yet I helped it. It's not

necessary.

Stopped, only arm's distance away, his presence too intense for my sensitive state. He simply

stared at me for a minute, tracking my tears. His hand fell back to his side after moving as

though it were caressing my cheek.

"Lyra, also I never meant to upset you".

I had never before heard him speak that way to me. His

voice now sounded almost soothing, gentler. That annoyed me greatly. Of all times, when I was

the lowest, how could he visit here now?

"Then, why did you do it? "I spat, powerless to control the flare of fury. " Why turn away from

me?" "Knowing what would do to me, why would you distance me?"

He answered straight away later on. His silence felt heavy, laced with a tension that hummed

about between us. Then he stretched out and stroked a stray lock of hair behind my ear, his

touch causing chills down my spine.

"Lyra," he replied, his eyes softening to match mine. "I think we are meant to be partners, but...".

He halted and in that brief moment his face seemed to be inches from mine. His breath warmed

my chilly flesh.

Our surroundings vanished, leaving only the two of us in a horrific, suspended

moment. I hated myself for the way my heart skipped and for the automatic slant my body took

toward him. Yearning the link I had been denied, my own soul appeared to be calling him.

Then he turned away, the softness in his eyes replaced by something cruel and unforgiving, just

as his lips lightly, almost unintentionally, sparked sparks over me.

"But I cannot see myself supporting someone as weak and despicable as you."

His remarks transcend the reach of any knife. Every word stung more worse than his rejection

had ever done, they were laden with contempt. My breath froze, and I staggered back clutching

at the invisible gash he had lately sliced into my heart.

Orion's expression was unshakable, but I caught the faintest flutter of melancholy in his eyes—a

minor c***k in his otherwise firm front. But consumed in the cold arrogance that marked him, it

was gone as quickly as it first emerged.

"You don't get to say that,"

I said, the misery and guilt fighting inside me blurring out. "You

cannot bring me down and then pretend as though it makes no difference. You cannot kiss me

and then distance us.

He muttered nothing, but he clenched his jaw. Instead he turned away, his profile stark against

the early sky. "Lyra, you should develop in strength. Weaklings are not of importance in this

world."

He turned away with those last, nasty remarks, leaving me shivering at the lake's edge. Every

step he took as he went seemed like a nail pushed farther into my already damaged heart.

I thought about following after him, demanding answers, begging him to briefly undo his hateful

comments. But what good would that bring about? He had plainly set out his feelings. Orion

thought of me as nothing more than a weight, a flaw he could afford to carry.

I bent to my knees, the cold seeping into my bones.

Once a source of solace, the meadow

seemed to be a prison, isolating me in my grief. Desperate to feel something real, anything

significant, I grabbed at the earth as though grounding myself would keep me from collapsing.

"You're stronger than you know," my mother said, and her words stuck in my memory as a frail,

confused reminder of all I had lost. I had to believe her words and hold on to them like a

lifeblood. Without her or anyone else,

I was all I had left.

Still, strength was not something one finds naturally. Every painful breath I took seemed to be a

far-off fantasy drifting more apart.

How was I supposed to be strong when the weight of the

earth was crushing me?

The wind came up, bearing with it the distant howling of the pack—a reminder that life continued

even if my sense of existence was going to end. Every muscle resisting, I made myself stand

and dab away my tears with the back of my palm. Orion's awful words burned in my ears and

motivated me.

I wouldn't fail. Not by him nor by this.

I silently promised myself as I turned away from the meadow and bid farewell to the ghost of my

former self. I could refute him. I could refute all of them. As I did not feel weak. I was not

depressed.

Lyra was here, daughter of the strongest woman I had ever known. And I would

survive irrespective of the means.

Every event that had occurred continued playing back in my head, a scar not healing. Day after

day, my mother's death tore me apart and upset the delicate equilibrium I was clinging to. It was

still a new cut. But none of that really spoke to me as much as the shame I had standing in the

center of the pack's training area before Orion.

"Lyra," Orion replied, his voice devoid of feeling or resonance. For as long as I could remember,

he was the future Beta,

someone I respected and loved. But now he also saw coldness,

contempt, and something that made my stomach turn. "I must tell you something."

His words were cold, and the air appeared to stop around us.

I forced myself to meet his stare

by swallowing hard. "What are you?"

He looked at me as though he was seeing me for the first time and discovered something quite

unsatisfactory. "You're my fated mate," he said, each syllable weighty and disconnected, slung

from his mouth like stones. Still, that has no meaning to me.

I was shocked. I knew he had felt it too; I had sensed the link, that unquestionable force binding

us. Though those dreams broke as fast as they arrived, I had clung to a fleeting hope that he

may recognize.