Stolen Magic

Truth Will Set You Free - or Will It?

The walk back to the cottage was tense, neither Lyra nor Calen speaking. The woods felt darker, the air heavier, and Lyra’s mind churned with questions she couldn’t yet articulate. Calen kept his distance, his hands shoved into his pockets, his gaze fixed on the path ahead. Whatever fragile trust had existed between them was now strained, and Lyra didn’t know how to feel about it.

When they reached the edge of the clearing where her cottage stood, Calen stopped.

“I’ll leave you here,” he said quietly.

Lyra hesitated, part of her wanting to ask him to stay, to help her face whatever storm waited inside. But his guarded expression stopped her. “Thanks,” she said shortly, turning toward the house.

The door creaked as she stepped inside, and she was immediately met by the sharp voices of her parents.

“Where have you been?” her mother demanded, standing in the kitchen with her arms crossed. Her face was flushed, her dark eyes narrowing as she took in Lyra’s disheveled appearance. “You think you can just disappear all day and not do your chores?”

“And leave the house a mess?” her father added, his tone clipped but less biting. “We work all day, Lyra. The least you can do is keep up with what’s expected.”

Lyra clenched her fists, anger rising in her chest. She had spent her entire life cleaning, cooking, and carrying the weight of their expectations. But now, after everything she’d learned, their demands felt hollow.

“I’ve been busy,” she said, her voice trembling with restraint.

“Busy with what?” her mother snapped. “What’s so important that you can’t pull your weight around here?”

Lyra’s resolve broke. “Finding out the truth,” she said, her voice cutting through the room like a blade.

Her mother stiffened. “What truth?”

“I heard you,” Lyra said, her electric blue eyes blazing with defiance. “The other night. You said I wasn’t your real daughter. So tell me—who am I? Who are you?”

Her mother’s face twisted with fury, and before Lyra could react, her mother’s hand struck her across the face. The sound echoed in the small kitchen, and Lyra stumbled back, her cheek burning.

“Don’t you dare ask questions,” her mother hissed, her voice low and venomous. “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Enough,” her father said, grabbing her mother’s arm and pulling her back. “She has a right to know.”

Her mother rounded on him, her anger flaring. “A right to know? And what happens when she runs off to that coven, hmm? When she finds them and leads them right to us? They’ll kill us, Derrick! You know they will!”

Her father sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. “We can’t keep this from her forever. She’s not a child anymore, Clara.”

“I’m standing right here,” Lyra said, her voice cold.

Her mother let out a bitter laugh, throwing her hands in the air. “Fine! Let’s tell her! Let’s see how she handles it when she learns that she was never supposed to be ours. That this entire life was a mistake!”

“Clara, enough,” her father snapped, his voice firm.

Her mother’s glare burned into both of them before she stormed out of the room, slamming the door to her bedroom behind her.

Lyra turned to her father, her chest heaving. “She’s right, isn’t she? I was never supposed to be here.”

Derrick sighed, sinking into a chair at the kitchen table. “No, you weren’t,” he admitted. “You’re not our daughter. And you’re not a wolf.”

Lyra’s legs threatened to give out. “What do you mean I’m not a wolf? Everyone else in the pack shifts. You told me it would happen when I was ready.”

“I lied,” he said, his voice heavy with regret. “Clara and I aren’t wolves either. We were never part of this pack—not really. We came here to hide.”

Lyra sat down across from him, her hands trembling. “Hide from what?”

Derrick looked her in the eye, his face etched with years of guilt. “Your mother—Clara—used to work for a family. A powerful family tasked with protecting you. But they were attacked. The head of the family used his last breath to cast a spell on Clara, binding her to you. She was forced to take you and flee, to protect you at all costs.”

Lyra’s mind reeled. “She didn’t want to?”

“No,” Derrick said softly. “Clara never wanted children. She hated everything about the Evermoor Coven. She despised their queen—your mother.”

Lyra’s breath caught. “My mother was the queen?”

“Yes,” Derrick said. “Asteria Everhart. The last queen of the Evermoor. When the rebellion started, she hid you away, hoping to keep you safe. Clara was just a servant, but that spell bound her to you, and she couldn’t fight it. When we met, she was already on the run with you.”

“And you helped her?” Lyra asked.

Derrick nodded. “I didn’t understand what I was getting into at the time. I thought I was just helping a woman and a child escape danger. But once I learned the truth… it was too late.”

Lyra stared at him, her chest tightening as the weight of his words sank in. Everything she had believed about her life—her parents, her place in the pack—was a lie.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” she whispered.

Derrick looked down at his hands. “We thought it was safer this way. If you didn’t know who you were, no one else would either. But I see now… we were wrong.”

Lyra stood abruptly, her chair scraping against the floor. “You lied to me my entire life. You let me believe I was part of something I’ll never belong to. And for what? To keep me hidden?”

“To keep you alive,” Derrick said firmly. “You have no idea how dangerous the world is for someone like you.”

“I’m starting to figure it out,” Lyra said coldly.

She turned and left the room, her mind racing. The truth had finally been laid bare, but it brought no comfort—only more questions.

As she climbed the stairs to her room, she clenched the pendant around her neck, the crescent moon pressing into her palm. Her parents—no, her keepers—had built her life on lies.

But now, Lyra was done with lies. She was going to uncover the whole truth, no matter what it took.