Chapter Two: Taken
841 Words
The morning after Lyra lost her powers, Ashvale no longer felt like home.
Word spread quickly through the village. People who had once greeted her with warm smiles now watched from behind half-closed doors. Whispers followed her wherever she walked.
“She has no Aether anymore.”
“Maybe the spirits abandoned her.”
“Without magic, she’s just like everyone else.”
Lyra kept her head down. Every word stung, but none hurt as much as the emptiness inside her. Since childhood, Aether had been as natural as breathing. Now there was only silence where a vibrant current of energy had once flowed.
Her mother tried to reassure her.
“We’ll find answers,” Elara said, gently brushing a strand of hair from Lyra’s face. “Your gift cannot simply disappear.”
Lyra forced a faint smile.
“I hope you’re right.”
That evening, rain poured over Ashvale, turning the narrow paths into streams of mud. Thunder rolled across the mountains, and the villagers hurried indoors.
Lyra sat beside the fire, staring into the flames. Sleep felt impossible.
Then came the sound.
A heavy knock.
Once.
Twice.
Then—
Crash!
The front door splintered inward.
Masked men dressed in black leather armor stormed into the cottage, swords flashing in the firelight.
Finn leapt to his feet.
“Get away from my family!”
He grabbed the nearest chair and swung it wildly. It shattered against one of the attackers, buying only a heartbeat.
The man struck Finn with the hilt of his sword, sending him crashing to the floor.
“Finn!” Lyra cried, rushing toward him.
A rough hand seized her arm.
She twisted free on instinct and reached for her magic.
Nothing happened.
The realization hit her like ice.
She truly was powerless.
One of the masked men laughed.
“So the rumors are true.”
“The witch has lost her gift.”
Another produced a scroll bearing a crimson seal.
“Alive,” their leader ordered. “She’s worth more that way.”
Worth more?
Lyra’s heart pounded.
They weren’t here to kill her.
They were here to take her.
Elara stepped between them and her daughter.
“You’ll have to go through me.”
The leader hesitated for only a moment before striking her with the flat of his blade.
She collapsed.
“Mother!”
Lyra lunged forward, but two men caught her before she could reach Elara.
She struggled with all her strength, kicking and pulling against their grip.
“Let me go!”
The leader removed his mask.
A jagged scar stretched across his left cheek, and his cold gray eyes showed no trace of pity.
“My name is Garrick,” he said. “People pay well for rare merchandise.”
“I am not merchandise.”
“No,” Garrick replied with a thin smile. “But you’ll fetch an excellent price.”
He nodded to his men.
One wrapped a cloth over Lyra’s mouth before she could scream again.
Her vision blurred as the strange scent filled her lungs.
The last thing she saw was Finn crawling across the floor toward her, reaching out with trembling fingers.
“Lyra…”
Darkness swallowed everything.
When she awoke, the world swayed beneath her.
The rhythmic creaking of wooden wheels echoed around her.
She opened her eyes.
Iron bars.
A cramped wooden cage.
Rain dripped through the canvas overhead.
Her wrists were bound with thick rope.
Across from her sat an elderly man with hollow cheeks and tired eyes. Beside him, a young girl no older than twelve hugged her knees, silently crying.
“You’ve finally woken,” the old man whispered.
“Where… where are we?”
“On the road to Aurelia.”
Lyra’s stomach dropped.
The Golden City lay hundreds of miles away.
“They’re slave traders,” the old man continued. “They raid villages along the frontier. Those with beauty, talent, or unusual gifts are sold to the highest bidder.”
Lyra looked around the wagon.
There were six cages.
Every one of them occupied.
Fear settled over the prisoners like a heavy blanket.
No one spoke above a whisper.
Outside, Garrick rode at the head of a long caravan.
Even from inside the cage, Lyra could hear him laughing with his men.
“The capital will love this shipment.”
Lyra lowered her head.
For the first time in her life, she had no family beside her.
No magic to defend herself.
No idea where she was being taken.
Only one thing remained.
Hope.
She silently vowed that no matter what awaited her in Aurelia, she would survive.
Even if she had to face it powerless.
As the caravan disappeared into the misty mountains, none of the prisoners noticed the faint golden glow that briefly shimmered around Lyra’s wrist before vanishing again.
Far away, deep beneath the Heartspire, the Veiled One opened its unseen eyes.
“It has begun,” the ancient voice whispered into the darkness.
“And soon… she will come to me.”
- Writer
