Lyra Books Novels & Stories

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.

I was loyal to my king and will forever remain loyal, now, my loyalty also extended to the Luna queen Ava. Although she hadn't been formally announced as the queen, I already saw her as one and would treat her accordingly. I ran my fingers along the spine of an ancient book on the shelf. Dust rose to the air slightly disturbing my nose making me sneeze. Rowan, Draven, Lyra and a couple of enforcers worked alongside me scanning the shelves for anything useful. “This place is a goldmine for knowledge. ” Lyra murmured, carefully removing a thick, leather-bound book from the shelf. She blew away dust from the cover to see it's title. “Guys!” She exclaimed making me rush over

LYRA The silence of the house is peaceful, but my heart is anything but. They say that morning brings calm, restores order, and offers a breath of fresh air to those who know how to listen to the world, but for me, none of this applies, because here, in this too-large house, where each room seems to hold the echoes of ancient stories and the forgotten whispers of our past lives, every minute, every breath amplifies my thoughts and sends them swirling like leaves carried away by an invisible wind, leaving me both fascinated and trembling before the inevitable confrontation that awaits me.

“She just barged in, Rivena.” “I can see that,” I replied, voice cold. He sighed. “She said some things about Lyra. Nonsense.” I folded my arms. “She tried to seduce you.” “Badly,” he muttered. I didn’t say anything. Because something inside me was boiling and I needed a second to keep it from exploding. Lyra's POV As I walked through the hallway with my head buried in my books, the last thing I expected was to crash into someone. My books tumbled to the ground as I stumbled back, blinking in confusion.

She knelt beside me, yellow skirts brushing the grime and dirt “I bribed every damn guard with coins, jewelry and my favorite scarf.” I interrupted her immediately. “That was the only thing you have of your parents.” I said. Mira was too good for her own good, she shouldn't have done that. “But you are the only person I have now.” I didn't even know I was crying till hot tears touched my cheeks. “Don't cry Lyra, you'll make me cry the bastards would not let me bring food—but I smuggled this.” She pullsx out a tiny glass vial, and for a second, I swear it shines like moonlight.

Lyra. White hair, silver eyes, silent mouth. She shoved a folded note into my palm. Mother, you need to see something. Her handwriting trembled. I crouched. “What is it? What’s wrong?” She didn’t write. She pointed to the stairs, urging me to follow. We rushed through the corridors, curiosity gnawing the edges of fear. Lyra led me to the library, where sunlight spilled through arched windows and the dust of old books drifted on air.

a curious classmate asked. Calla glanced at Lyra beside her and asked, "Lyra, are you familiar with her?" Lyra curled her lips, shook her head, and said, "Not really." Calla turned her head and said slowly, "Lyra is the designer of the Love Series!"