Stolen Magic

Evermoor

The clearing was silent, save for the faint crackle of embers from the sparks Lyra had accidentally created. She stared at the charred leaves, her mind spinning with disbelief. This stranger—Calen—had somehow calmed the chaotic energy inside her, but it didn’t make sense. None of it did.

“I don’t know who I am,” Lyra said finally, her voice trembling. “That’s what I’m trying to figure out.”

Calen studied her, his green eyes sharp yet curious. “Well, I can tell you this much: you’re not ordinary. Whatever’s happening to you, it’s big. And it’s tied to this forest.”

Lyra crossed her arms, trying to steady herself. “Why should I trust you? You show up out of nowhere, acting like you know something about me, and expect me to believe you?”

“I don’t expect anything,” Calen said, raising his hands in mock surrender. “But if I’m right, you’re connected to the Evermoor. That means we might be on the same side.”

Lyra narrowed her eyes. “The Evermoor. You keep saying that. What is it?”

Calen hesitated, as if weighing how much to tell her. “It’s... a place. A sanctuary for those like us. Magic thrives there, and it’s protected by powerful wards. Most people can’t even get close to it.”

“People like us?” Lyra repeated, her stomach twisting. “You think I’m—what? Magical? I'm a nobody. I'm from the pack. I'm 19 and I still don't have my wolf - I may never have my wolf. There's nothing magical about me.”

Calen’s gaze softened. “You saw what you did just now, didn’t you? That wasn’t an accident, Lyra. It’s who you are. And it’s why I think the Evermoor is calling you. So who are you? You're definitely not a wolf. If you are from the pack, I'm surprised you've made it this long. Who are your parents? Where did you come from? How are you just finding out you have magic?”

“Calling me?” Lyra laughed bitterly. “You make it sound like some kind of fairy tale. I don’t even know what I am at this point, let alone why this forest or... magic would care about me. I'm not answering any of your questions about me, I don't know you or your intentions. I just want to go home!”

Calen’s expression darkened slightly. “Listen, I'm just trying to help. You’re not the only one who cares about you, Lyra. If you don’t figure this out soon, someone else will.”

The words hit her like a punch to the gut. “What do you mean?”

“Magic like yours doesn’t go unnoticed,” he said. “If I found you, others can too. And not all of them will have good intentions.”

Lyra didn’t remember how she made it back to the cottage. The sun was already setting by the time she slipped inside, the letter and locket still tucked safely in her pocket. Her parents were in the kitchen again, their voices low and tense as they cleaned up after dinner. She didn’t dare face them—not yet.

Her legs felt like lead as she climbed the stairs to her room. Once inside, she locked the door and collapsed onto her bed, clutching the letter in her hands. Asteria Everhart. The name pulsed in her mind, refusing to let her rest.

She unfolded the letter again, her eyes scanning the elegant script. “Sacred blood… dark forces… trust no one but her own heart.” The words filled her with equal parts fear and determination.

If this Asteria person was the key to her past, then Lyra had to find her. But how? She didn’t even know where to start. Her parents had clearly hidden the truth from her, and Calen’s cryptic warnings only added to the confusion.

Sleep came reluctantly, dragging her into restless dreams.