Lyra Books Novels & Stories

And then she taught the machine to fear her ghost. Now, she was Lyra. A myth. A contractor who could make problems disappear, whether they were data streams or people. She worked for credits, yes, but she curated her clients and her missions with a secret moral code—one that preyed on the predatory, that balanced scales in a universe that loved to tilt them. Billionaires and crime lords sought her out, communicating through dead drops and encrypted, self-deleting channels. They didn’t know her face, her gender, her species. They knew only that she delivered, and that her price was absolute discretion.

"No you can't. You're the only one who knows the truth. The only one who can help me." "I've already helped you. Told you what you are. What they did." Lyra reached into her robes. Pulled out the old book. The one with the symbols. "The rest is in here." She pressed it into Aria's hands. "Everything I know about Luna power. Every technique. Every warning. Every mistake I made learning this magic." Lyra's voice was getting weaker. "It's all there. You just have to figure it out." "I can't do this alone."

“You didn’t.” “They fought. What did you expect?” Rage burned through grief. “I’ll kill you. All of you.” Daemon laughed. “You? A healer? You don’t have it in you.” “Then I’ll find it.” She bolted. Past wolves. Past fire. Into the dark woods. Daemon yelled behind her. “Let her run. She’s no threat.” He was wrong. The memory jumped. Months flashed by. Lyra alone in a cave. Ancient books scattered. Forbidden spells.

Like approval. Somewhere in the distance, a wolf howls. Not a hunter. Not an enemy. Just a wolf. Calling to the moon. Calling to me. I am Lyra. Daughter of a dead woman. Heir of a forgotten bloodline. Mate of a cursed Alpha. I am not nobody. I never was. And the war has only just begun. --- END OF CHAPTER 20

Elara's words hung in the air long after she had spoken them. "A bloodline that changes everything about who has the right to rule." Lyra stood in the middle of Draven's chamber, the book open between them, and felt the floor shift beneath her in a way that had nothing to do with the news of war or poisoned food or rogue conspiracies. This was something deeper. Something about who she was, underneath all of it. "I do not understand," she said. "Rule what?"

Lyra — Age 6 Blackwood Pack Territory, Alaska Night after night, the dreams returned, unrelenting as the arctic tide. That was the first truth Lyra grasped. The second was that she did not want them to cease. At six years old, she already knew Alaska kept certain things immutable: the hush of fresh snow, the weight of silence draping the world, the way people could stand shoulder to shoulder and still feel oceans apart. But this—this belonged to her alone.

“Because we burned the records. To prevent the Sovereign’s kind from ever finding it.” “And now?” Lyra asked. Ysara turned to Iris. The child met her gaze, calm as still water. “The seals call to her,” Ysara whispered. “And if the second opens… nothing you’ve faced so far will compare.” --- That night, Lyra stood at the edge of the northern cliffs. Kaelen found her there, as always. “You knew it wasn’t over,” he said. She didn’t answer. “You always knew,” he said again.

Now she stood at the center of the chamber, every eye on her. And she didn’t flinch. “The girl returns,” sneered Elder Vorek, his fur-lined mantle heavy with silver rank. His ancient eyes glinted beneath the crown of thorns woven from sacred ashwood. “And now she thinks herself a flame reborn.” Lyra raised her chin. “I don’t think so. I know it.” The dozen elders murmured. Some with interest. Others with disdain. “I stand here as Lyra Vale. Daughter of Elira of the Celestial Blood. Survivor of betrayal. Heir to the Moonbreaker line.”

With Lyra at her side, they wouldn’t just be unstoppable, they’d be untouchable. Lyra turned around like she'd just opened a regular door on a regular Tuesday, walked back to the patch of grass where a weather-worn box lay, crouched, and picked it up with both hands. “What are those?” I blinked at the box. I hadn't even noticed it before. “My mother’s spellbooks,” she said, dusting off the top. “If we hurry we could still catch up to her.” “You’re not seriously thinking of going after her,” I croaked, trying to catch my breath.

Lyra Helena and I spend three days sorting out the boxes filled with books and as we stand there proud of our handy work, I feel a sense of accomplishment. Not that we’ve accomplished something huge, but we did turn an old storeroom into a small library. We each grab a book and find a seat and I immediately get to work. Sadly, life intervenes and I have to rush off to sort out a problem between two omegas. I have just returned and started reading when Hunter starts to cry, and I have to take care of him.