She Didn’t Belong
1292 Words
The nightmare always ended the same way. With a woman crying, a wolf howling and someone whispering, Find your way home. Then flames swallowing everything.
Lyra jolted awake, her breath catching in her throat as sweat clung to her skin. She pressed a trembling hand against her chest, trying to slow the frantic pounding of her heart. The room was dark except for the pale moonlight peaking through her window. Yet another full moon, another nightmare.
She turned her head toward the old clock on her bedside table.
3:17 a.m.
The nightmare was always around the same time.
Every full moon for as long as she could remember.
She pulled the strap of her tank top aside and stared at the crescent-shaped birthmark on her shoulder. Under the moonlight, it shimmered faintly, almost as if silver flowed beneath her skin.
“You’re glowing again,” she muttered.
No one had ever believed her. Doctors said it was a trick of the light. Dermatologists called it a rare skin pigmentation. Her friends thought she had an overactive imagination. Only one person had never dismissed her.
Her mother.
Well… her adoptive mother.
A gentle knock sounded on her bedroom door. “Lyra? Are you awake?”
She smiled despite herself. “I am now.”
Emily Harper pushed the door open carrying two steaming mugs. “I figured.”
She handed Lyra a cup of hot chocolate before sitting beside her. “The dream again?”
Lyra nodded. “It felt… different.”
“How?”
“I heard someone this time.”
Emily’s expression softened. “What did they say?”
Lyra looked down at the swirling chocolate. “‘Find your way home.’”
The room fell silent. Emily lowered her eyes, hiding an emotion Lyra couldn’t quite place.
“I’ve been thinking,” Lyra said quietly. “I want to go back.”
Emily looked up. “To the orphanage?”
“No.”
“The town records office.”
Emily sighed. “You’ve searched those files three times already.”
“And every time something feels wrong.”
“What do you mean?”
“My adoption file doesn’t make sense.”
Emily frowned.
“The dates don’t match. The signatures are different. There are pages missing.”
“You’ve mentioned that before.”
“Because they are missing.” Lyra stood up and walked to the small desk by the window.
She opened a folder filled with copies she’d made over the years. “Look.” She spread the documents across the desk. “My intake record says I was found at sunrise.”
She pointed to another page. “But this report says I arrived after noon.”
She picked up a third sheet. “And this one lists the officer who brought me in.”
Emily glanced down. “So?”
“He retired six years before I was supposedly found.”
Emily blinked. “I never noticed that.”
“Someone changed my records.” The words hung heavily between them. Emily reached for her hand. “Maybe it was just clerical mistakes.”
“Three different mistakes? On the same file?” Lyra shook her head. “I don’t believe in coincidences anymore.” She looked toward the moon outside. “I think someone wanted me to disappear.”
The town archives closed at six. By eight, the streets were nearly empty.
Lyra pulled the hood of her jacket over her head and slipped into the narrow alley behind the old municipal building.
She knew the security guard’s routine. Every Thursday he left his desk for exactly seven minutes to smoke behind the courthouse. Tonight was Thursday.
“Please let this work,” she whispered.
The back window still hadn’t been repaired after last month’s storm. She pushed gently. It slid open with a soft creak. Her heartbeat thundered as she climbed inside. Everything was coated with dust. Rows upon rows of shelves stretched into darkness. She switched on the flashlight on her phone and headed toward the adoption records. Drawer C. Folder H. It was more of a routing now, except there was nothing. She checked again. Still nothing.
“No…” She searched another cabinet. Then another and eventually she found it. HARPER, LYRA. For a moment, she was relieved until she opened the folder. Half the pages had been torn out. The most important ones. The ones that had information on her birth records, the report from the officer who found her. Every document explaining where she’d come from. It was all gone.
Who would do something like that? And why?
A sudden click echoed through the room. The lights snapped on. “You shouldn’t be here.”
Lyra froze. A tall man in a security uniform stood at the end of the aisle. His flashlight shone directly into her face. “I can explain.”
“Can you?” He reached for his radio.
Lyra shoved the cabinet toward him and folders went exploding across the floor. She sprinted down the aisle, her footsteps echoing through the empty building.
“Stop!”
She darted through the broken window she’d entered from and landed hard in the alley. Ignoring the sting in her palms, she ran. She didn’t stop until the lights of the town square came into view.
Only then did she realize…
She was still clutching a single page she’d accidentally taken from the file. She unfolded it beneath a streetlamp. It wasn’t part of her adoption papers. It was a handwritten note. The ink had faded with age but she could still make out the words.
Do not tell her who she is. If the Crescent child is found, they will come for her.
Lyra stared at the words. The Crescent child? Who was that? Before she could read further, headlights flashed across the street. A little boy was chasing his ball into the road.
“Leo!” The mother screamed.
A delivery truck was coming round the corner far too fast. Without thinking, Lyra ran. She threw herself toward the child. They hit the pavement just as the truck roared past, missing them by inches. The boy burst into tears.
His mother collapsed beside him, hugging him tightly.
“You saved him,” she sobbed. “Thank you… thank you.”
Lyra smiled weakly. “It’s okay.” Just then, a sharp pain shot through her arm. She looked down. A deep scrape stretched from her wrist to her elbow, and there was blood trickling onto the pavement. She turned away, searching for something to wrap around it.
By the time she looked again…
The wound was closing. The torn skin knitted together before her eyes and the blood disappeared except for the one on her shirt.
Within seconds…
There wasn’t even a scar.
Her breath caught. “No…” She rubbed her arm. It was as though she’d never been injured at all.
Across the square, hidden beneath the shadow of an ancient oak tree, an elderly man lowered the hood of his cloak. He'd been watching Lyra with disbelief. His hands trembled around the pendant hanging from his neck.
A crescent moon.
The same symbol embroidered on the blanket Lyra had treasured since childhood.
Tears filled his eyes. “Our Luna…” he whispered. “After all these years…”
Before he could take a single step toward her, a cold voice spoke from the darkness behind him.
“So…” The old wolf stiffened. “You finally found her.”
He turned slowly. Three figures dressed in black stood beneath the trees, their eyes glowing with violet magic.
Witches.
One of them smiled. “Thank you for leading us straight to the Crescent heir.”
- Writer
