Stolen Magic

Searching for Answers

Lyra took the locket and returned to her room.

The storm passed, leaving behind a chilling silence that settled into her bones. She lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, replaying her mother’s words over and over.

When dawn finally broke, she couldn’t take it anymore. Sneaking downstairs, she searched the house for anything that could give her answers. Her parents were still asleep, their heavy breathing carrying through the thin walls.

Her hands trembled as she opened the drawer in her father’s desk.

She wasn't allowed in here, if they woke - who knows what punishment could be waiting. Inside the desk, she found a pile of papers—bills, receipts, and then something that didn’t belong.

It was a faded envelope with her name scrawled across the front in elegant handwriting.

Lyra.

Her heart hammered as she opened it. Inside was a single sheet of parchment, the ink smudged and aged.

"To whoever finds her," it began, "this child is of sacred blood, born to the Evermoor Coven and heir to a power that will shape the fate of our world. Protect her well, for dark forces seek to claim her. She must not be found until her magic awakens and she can defend herself. Trust no one but her own heart."

The letter was signed with a name she didn’t recognize: Asteria Everhart.

Lyra stared at the name. Everhart. The same last name as hers. It couldn’t be a coincidence. Was she her aunt? Her mother? Why did she have the same last name as her and her parents? Her parents had never spoken of siblings and she's never even met her grandparents.

Lyra paused as she realized how little she actually knew about her parents. She'd never seen them shift - although they said once she got her wolf she could go with them. She knew nothing of their jobs, their wolves, their lives or well, anything.

Her legs gave out, and she sank to the floor, clutching the letter. Her mind raced with questions. Who was Asteria? What was this “sacred blood”? And why had her parents—no, her, her, what even were they?—lied to her?

Footsteps creaked upstairs. Her parents were waking.

She stuffed the letter into her pocket and slipped out the front door before they could stop her.

The forest at the edge of town had always felt f*******n. Her parents had warned her as a child never to wander there, spinning tales of hunters and dangerous strangers. But now, those warnings felt less like protection and more like control.

The letter burned in her pocket as she pushed past brambles and twisting roots. She had no idea where she was going—only that she had to get away.

The deeper she went, the stranger the forest became. The trees grew taller, their trunks twisted with veins of silver. The air shimmered faintly, and a strange warmth prickled her skin.

She didn’t know how long she walked before she stumbled into a clearing.

“Lost, are we?”

Lyra spun around, her heart leaping into her throat. The voice was low and rich, with a teasing edge. A man leaned casually against a tree at the edge of the clearing. His hair was dark and tousled, his green eyes gleaming with a knowing light that made her uneasy.

“I’m not lost,” she lied, her voice steadier than she felt.

The man arched an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth twitching into a half-smile. “You’re a terrible liar.”

“Who are you?” Lyra demanded, taking a step back. She reached instinctively for her pocket, her fingers brushing the crumpled letter.

“I might ask the same of you,” he said, pushing off the tree and stepping closer. There was something unnerving about how he moved—smooth and deliberate, like a predator.

Lyra held her ground. “I’m just passing through.”

The man tilted his head, studying her. “Strange. The forest doesn’t let just anyone in. And yet, here you are.”

She frowned. “What do you mean, ‘the forest doesn’t let people in’?”

He grinned, a spark of amusement lighting his eyes. “You really don’t know, do you?” He gestured around them. “This is the edge of the Evermoor. No ordinary human could wander this far.”

Lyra’s breath caught. The name Evermoor echoed from the letter, sending a chill down her spine.

“I have to go,” she said, turning to leave.

But before she could take a step, the man’s voice stopped her. “Wait.”

When she glanced back, his expression had softened, the teasing gone. “What's your name?”

Her pulse quickened. “Why do you want to know? I'm nobody.”

He stepped closer, his gaze steady. “Are you from the pack or the city?”

“I'm not telling you that, I don't know you. Nor do I want to.” she said assertively.

“Well,” he said, holding out a hand, “I don't think you came out here by accident.”

Lyra didn’t take his hand. Her instincts screamed to run, but her legs refused to move. “What do you want?” she asked, her voice sharper this time.

“Nothing,” the man said. “The name is Calen.” He hesitated, as if unsure how to continue. "I think I've been looking for you."

“Looking for me? Is that supposed to be a pickup line?”

He nodded. “I don’t know how to explain it, but when I saw you just now…I don't know what it is, but I don't want you to leave. I don't think you want to either.”

Lyra’s head spun. First the letter, now this stranger. It was too much. “Stay away from me,” she said, stepping back.

But as she did, the surrounding air shimmered. A faint glow surrounded her hands, and when she looked down, tiny sparks danced across her skin.

“What—” Lyra gasped, stumbling.

“Holy s**t,” Calen said softly. “Well you're certainly not from the pack OR the city.”

The sparks grew brighter, crackling like tiny bolts of lightning. Lyra clenched her fists, panic rising. “My names Lyra. I don't know what you are or how you're doing this but please make it stop!”

“It's not me, it's you,” Calen said, stepping closer. “Just breathe. Let it flow.”

She tried to listen, but then she felt the energy inside her as it became wild and uncontrollable. The sparks shot out from her hands, striking the ground and igniting the dry leaves around them.

“Stop!” Lyra cried, but the fire only grew.

Before she could completely lose control, Calen reached out and grabbed her hands. His touch was cool and steady, and the sparks immediately began to fade.

Lyra stared at him, her chest heaving. “What did you do?”

“Nothing,” he said, his voice calm. “That was all you. You just needed a little help finding balance.”

She pulled her hands away, her heart still racing. “I don’t understand any of this.”

“You will,” Calen said. “But first, you need to tell me who the hell you are.”