Branches whipped against their faces. Roots caught their ankles. Their lungs burned, but they kept running—children in the forest, hunted like prey by monsters in human form.
None of them knew where they were going. There was no path. No plan. Only the thunder of feet behind them, the snarls of beasts that once wore armor.
They ran.
"Faster!" Lyra shouted, grabbing Aylea's wrist.
"I—I'm trying—!" Aylea's voice cracked, her breath ragged.
Suddenly—a scream.
Lyra turned.
Aylea had stumbled over a hidden stone, crashing hard to the ground. Her ankle twisted at an unnatural angle.
She tried to stand—but collapsed.
Thalen skidded to a halt, spun around, and without a second thought, lifted Aylea onto his back. Her weight pressed down, but he gritted his teeth and kept running.
Behind them, the forest screamed.
The enemy was closing in.
They ran until their bodies begged them to stop.
Then, finally, they did.
Their legs shook. Their hands trembled. Their hearts pounded in fragile, irregular beats.
"Put me down," Aylea whispered.
"No—" Thalen began, but she pressed her hand to his shoulder.
"I said—put me down!"
He did.
She slumped against a tree, pain etched across her face. "You have to go. Both of you. I can't run, I'll only slow you down. Go."
Lyra's eyes widened. "What are you saying—"
"Leave me!" Aylea shouted, tears mixing with dirt on her face. "I can't fight, I can't run—just go!"
Then, a shadow dropped from above—an enemy soldier.
Thalen spun, caught the creature mid-air, and slammed it into the ground. It snarled and thrashed, but Thalen grunted, drove it back, then raised his eyes.
They were surrounded.
Ten. No—twenty. Creatures creeping out from the mist, blades raised, claws shining in the dim light.
No escape.
Only one option.
"Get behind me!" Thalen barked.
Aylea crawled toward a tree, covering her face.
Lyra stood beside Thalen, both of them raising their hands, breath syncing. They chanted the mantras they had practiced—small, defensive spells, just enough to block or push.
Golden light shimmered from Lyra's palms. A flash of white burst from Thalen's fists.
They fought. The monsters lunged. They struck back. Barely. Desperately.
But they were just children, and the enemy kept coming.
Blood sprayed. Thalen cried out. Lyra's fingers bled from pushing too much energy.
Still—they stood.
Then Thalen looked to Aylea, then to Lyra. His face changed.
He had made a decision.
He met Aylea's eyes—and nodded.
She understood.
"NO!" Lyra screamed.
But it was too late.
Aylea completed the transportation mantra—a forbidden spell they had barely seen in the scrolls. She whispered Lyra's name into the casting.
A spiral of wind and light wrapped around Lyra's body.
She screamed.
She reached out for them.
"Aylea! Thalen!—don't do this!"
Her world shattered into pieces of light.
In the Deep Forest
Lyra landed hard on soft moss. She rolled once, then scrambled to her knees.
The forest around her was unfamiliar—ancient and thick, cloaked in mist and moonlight.
She stared blankly, shaking. "No…"
A vision burned in her mind—Aylea's last smile.
A farewell.
"No…"
She stood slowly, trembling. "Not again… I lost my mother, I lost them—I won't lose anyone else!"
Then, she heard something.
A rustle. A metallic drag.
She crept forward, heart stuttering.
Then she saw them.
Two enemy soldiers. Dragging bodies.
Aylea.
Thalen.
Unconscious, bloody—but alive.
The sight shattered something in her.
No. It didn't shatter.
It awakened.
A sound—not quite a scream—escaped Lyra's lips. The air shivered.
Her body stilled, but the air around her changed. Energy hummed through the trees like lightning about to strike.
Her hair shimmered into silver, catching the moonlight like spun frost.
Her eyes glowed faintly.
She walked forward, and the forest held its breath.
The enemy soldiers stopped moving.
They didn't know why.
But their instincts—long forgotten—screamed in terror. The way a deer senses a wolf before the pounce. They froze, hearts pounding.
Lyra didn't run.
She walked—slowly, confidently—between them.
They stepped aside.
They had no choice.
She reached Thalen and Aylea. Her hands shook.
She whispered the mantra of healing, one she had never used before—but now, it obeyed her like it had always known her name.
Light wrapped around their bodies. Slowly, their wounds closed.
Aylea stirred first, her eyes fluttering open.
She blinked, disoriented.
"…Lyra?" she whispered, tears forming.
Lyra knelt, smiling faintly. A single tear ran down her glowing cheek.
Aylea reached up, touched her face… then slipped back into healing sleep.
Lyra stood. Around her, the army remained frozen.
She whispered a second chant—and in a blink, they vanished.
They reappeared at the entrance of the old cave—the one where the symbols on the walls had once glowed in Lyra's dreams.
Lyra laid Aylea and Thalen down gently inside.
Then—something broke.
Her legs gave out. Her glow flickered. Her hair faded.
And she screamed.
A scream of grief, of rage, of fear. A scream for everything taken from her. A scream for every death she had witnessed. A scream for herself.
The forest shook.
Enemy soldiers sensed the energy vanish. They followed.
Lyra stood again, her knees shaking. Blood dripped from her nose.
But she stood.
At the mouth of the cave, she waited.
They came.
And she fought.