Stolen Magic

Secrets Unearthed

The warlock’s house sat deep within the forest, nestled between two massive trees whose roots seemed to cradle it like ancient hands. The structure was unassuming—a crooked, moss-covered cabin with smoke curling lazily from the chimney. Despite its outward simplicity, Lyra could feel the weight of power radiating from it, a low hum that pressed against her senses as she approached.

“This is Artemis,” Calen said, gesturing toward the house as they stopped at the edge of the clearing. “If anyone can help you, it’s him.”

Lyra hesitated. “You trust him?”

“As much as I trust anyone,” Calen replied, his green eyes unreadable.

Before she could question him further, the door creaked open, and a man stepped out. Artemis was tall and wiry, his graying hair tied back in a loose braid. His sharp eyes glinted like shards of obsidian, and his long fingers clutched a staff that hummed with quiet energy.

“Well,” Artemis said, his voice deep and smooth, “if it isn’t the girl everyone’s been whispering about.”

Lyra bristled. “I didn’t realize I was so famous.”

“You’re not,” Artemis said with a faint smirk. “But your pendant is. Come inside. We’ve much to discuss.”

The interior of the cabin was a chaotic maze of shelves overflowing with books, jars of strange substances, and glowing crystals. The air smelled faintly of herbs and smoke, and the walls were covered in faded runes that seemed to shift when Lyra wasn’t looking.

Artemis motioned for them to sit at a rough-hewn table in the center of the room. He leaned on his staff, his sharp gaze fixed on Lyra.

“You wear the crescent moon of the Evermoor,” he said. “Do you know what it means?”

Lyra glanced at Calen, who nodded encouragingly. “I’ve been told it’s a symbol of the royal family. Of their magic.”

Artemis inclined his head. “That’s correct. The Evermoor royal line was unique, their magic unlike anything the world had seen. It wasn’t just power—it was connection. To the earth, the stars, the very fabric of creation.”

“And you think I’m part of that?” Lyra asked, her voice hesitant.

“I don’t think,” Artemis said, his tone firm. “I know. Your blood carries that magic. But what intrigues me is why you were hidden. Why your parents—assuming they are your parents—would keep this from you.”

Lyra hesitated, how did he already know so much about her and her parents? She hasn't told him anything? She then proceeded to tell him about the letter and the name Asteria Everhart. Artemis listened intently, his expression growing darker with each word.

“Asteria was the last queen,” he said quietly. “If she sent that letter, it means she knew you’d be in danger. And if you’re her blood… the danger hasn’t passed.”

Artemis stood abruptly, motioning for Lyra to follow him to the center of the room. “Show me,” he said, his tone leaving no room for argument.

“Show you what?” Lyra asked, confused.

“Your power,” Artemis said. “The spark inside you. Let me see it.”

Lyra glanced nervously at Calen, who nodded. Swallowing her unease, she raised her hands, focusing on the energy she could feel humming just beneath her skin. The memory of the sparks in the clearing came rushing back, and she willed them to appear.

For a moment, nothing happened. Then, faint flickers of light danced across her fingers, growing brighter with each breath. But the power quickly spun out of control, the light surging wildly before a small burst of flame erupted and fizzled out.

Lyra yelped, stepping back. “I can’t control it.”

“I can see that,” Artemis said, though his tone wasn’t unkind. He tapped his staff against the floor, his gaze thoughtful. “Magic like yours requires discipline, balance. You’ll need training.”

“Training?” Lyra asked, her voice rising with disbelief.

“Come back here every morning,” Artemis said. “We’ll begin your lessons immediately. In the meantime…” He turned to a nearby shelf, retrieving a small amulet on a silver chain. The stone at its center shimmered faintly, its colors shifting like oil on water.

“Wear this,” Artemis said, handing it to her. “It will mask your magic when you’re not practicing. The less attention you draw, the better.”

Lyra slipped the amulet over her head, its weight reassuring against her chest. “What about my family? Should I tell them?”

“No,” Artemis said sharply. “No one must know who you are. Not yet. Your so called parents know who you are - but they needn't know that you know, not yet. I have much to learn of their pasts but I do not believe we should trust them.”

She nodded, though unease curled in her stomach.

After their lesson ended, Calen offered to escort Lyra back through the woods. They walked in silence for a while, the tension between them growing heavier with each step.

Lyra broke the silence. “You said you’d help me figure this out, but you haven’t told me anything about yourself. Why are you helping me?”

Calen hesitated, his jaw tightening. “Because it’s the right thing to do.”

“That’s not an answer,” Lyra pressed.

Before he could reply, a branch snagged her sleeve, scraping her arm. A thin line of blood welled up, and she winced.

Calen froze, his eyes fixed on the wound.

“Calen?” Lyra asked, but her voice faltered when she saw his face. His green eyes darkened, his features sharpening as something primal took hold. His teeth—were they sharper?

“Stay back,” he said, his voice strained.

Lyra’s heart pounded as she stepped back. “What’s happening to you?”

Calen closed his eyes, forcing himself to breathe. Slowly, his features softened, the transformation receding. He looked at her, guilt and fear etched into his face.

“Wha-what just happened,” Lyra said, her voice trembling. “What are you?”

He hesitated, then said quietly, “Half warlock, half vampire.”

Her stomach twisted. “You didn't think to tell me? No, of course you didn't. You probably have some ulterior motive in all this, why tell me who you are if you're one of the people trying to kill me right?”

“I didn’t think it mattered,” Calen said, his voice raw. “Not until now. I'm not going to hurt you, please believe me, I'm trying to protect you. I thought we had more pressing matters to worry about than my race.”

Lyra’s eyes sunk to the ground as she took a deep breath, then said, “I'm sorry.” She paused, "Why are you working with the Evermoor? What’s your stake in all of this?”

He looked away, his silence speaking volumes.

“Calen,” she said, her voice hardening. “Tell me the truth. Why are you here?”

He met her gaze, his expression unreadable. “Because I owe the Evermoor my life. And because… I think I was meant to find you.”

Lyra stared at him, uncertainty and anger swirling in her chest. For the first time, she questioned whether she could truly trust him—or anyone.