Chapter 8 - Much We Do Not Yet Know

Lyra

In the morning, Lyra and Kyline left on horseback. The greenwood Lyra had known her entire life gave way to deep, fertile topsoil. Trees thinned until they were little more than scattered clusters on the horizon. 

Tall, golden grass swayed in the ever constant wind, stretching endlessly before her, the horizon broken only by distant hills. Seeing Lyra shiver, Kyline handed her her cloak.

The magic in the air shifted as they crossed the boundary into another alpha’s territory, forsaking the familiar hum of home. It felt like an unseen predator watching, warning her she was unwelcome.

Kyline and Lyra exchanged only a few words throughout the day, small comforts about shared loss and reassurances that Lyra wasn’t alone. Lyra clung onto her Aunt’s kindness, but it couldn’t drown out her thoughts or Aunt Maris’s final words, tangling with her dream.

Kyline wouldn’t answer her questions about the plan. “Not yet,” her aunt assured her every time. “There’s no use worrying until it’s time.” 

But worry was all Lyra could do.

By the time the buildings emerged on the horizon, her legs ached, and her nerves were frayed. The wooden walls and scattered buildings brought little comfort, as she stepped into a life she didn’t understand, so far from home. She glanced at Kyline, hoping for a hint of what lay ahead, but her aunt’s expression was as unreadable as ever.

The wind cut through her cloak, biting at her neck and hands as they rode through the settlement. She pulled it tight around her shoulders, its wool scratching her skin. This place was so different from what she knew, so... bare. She skimmed over one weathered shack to the next.

The settlement was simple. There were no banners or towers. Just tents, wooden shacks, and dusty roads. People moved around them.  Was this the extent of Alpha Veyron’s territory? Rumors led her to expect so much more. Curious faces wore caution, as though they could see Lyra didn’t belong.

Kyline glanced nervously over her shoulder. "Keep your head down," she murmured.

“But where are we going?” Lyra asked, just as low.

"Trust me.” She responded softly. “Just… be patient, please." 

Lyra nodded, tugging her hood higher, hiding her face as best she could. What would happen if these people discovered who she was? Where she came from?

At a small splintery post, Kyline dismounted, hitching the horses to the side. Lyra followed, her boots crunching against the dirt as she climbed down. 

Kyline knocked on the door of a modest cabin. A small woman, bent with age, answered. Her gray hair was tied back in a loose bun, and her wrinkled hands nimbly swept through the air in greeting. 

"Oh, Kyline. What have we here?" she asked.

"I need somewhere we can get cleaned up, Alma" Kyline replied quickly, looking around nervously.

“Well, hurry along,” Alma said, stepping aside to usher them in. “We don’t want to be caught out here, do we?”

As the door closed behind them with an ominous thud, Lyra’s stomach tightened. She had no idea what was coming. She just had to trust Kyline. 

****

The bath’s cool water splashed over Lyra, washing away the filth. But the grime of her past life clung to her soul. The soap’s scent mingled with the cabin’s ancient wood.

After getting out of the tub, Lyra hesitated as Kyline handed her a modest dress much softer than anything she had ever worn. 

"This dress…” Lyra murmured, pulling it over her head with a rustle. “I’ve never worn anything like it."

The clean cotton felt foreign against the rough patches on her body, scars she’d never escape. Kyline gently adjusted the dress on Lyra’s shoulders.

Her aunt smiled, serene. "It’s nothing extravagant, but it suits you better than those rags."

A lump formed in Lyra’s throat as she looked down at the dress. Was this a belated birthday present? A beautiful gift. 

“Why are you doing this for me?”

"Because you deserve to be treated with kindness."

The old woman in the corner hummed her agreement in tandem with  the soft click of her knitting needles.

“Besides, we need you to be ready.” Kyline stated matter of factly, giving the dress a once over before pulling her over to a chair and motioning for her to sit.

Lyra obeyed. Kyline brushed her tangled hair. The motion was soothing, despite the painful tug on the knots. Lyra stared into a small mirror, watching herself being transformed into a stranger.

"When the moon grows dark, and the Luna Stone is bound to its heart…" Lyra’s whisper was barely louder than the rhythmic combing. 

Kyline paused. “What?”

“It... was on the wall of the ruins, where you found me. What does it mean?" Lyra turned to look at her.

Kyline’s hands tightened briefly in her hair, then relaxed.

“It’s just an old legend,” she said, her voice hesitant, but gentle as she braided.

“But Aunt Maris…” Lyra’s voice broke as the memory surged within her. “She said it too. Right before—before she died.”

“Did she say…” Kyline sucked in a deep shaky breath, before she continued. “anything else?”

“That I had power…?” Lyra shrugged, struggling to make sense. “But I don’t understand.”

Silence filled the room. Lyra’s thoughts churned. 

“It’s like my dream,” she whispered.

Kyline slowly tied off the last braid. 

“A dream?” She probed, hesitant, as if Lyra’s words were dangerous.

“There was a light… and chaos… and a man holding it all together… I can’t… I can’t explain it…” Lyra shook her head.

Kyline’s voice dropped, thoughtful. “There’s much we don’t yet know.”

Her eyes locked on Kyline, willing her to say something that would make sense of this situation. But when she didn’t offer anything else, Lyra’s impatience bubbled up and she stood to face her aunt.

“What’s the plan? I need to know.”

Kyline moved slowly as she adjusted the hem of Lyra’s dress. “You’ll become a maid in Veyron’s household.”