Lyra Rae Novels & Stories

Could she really help us? “She is? I thought she was only blessed by the goddess.” Elliot narrowed his eyes at the sorcerer, seeming doubtful at the man’s account of who Raya really was. I knew he didn’t see her for her. She is strong, caring, and radiant. Her aura pulls you in, calling to you and never wanting to let go. It’s warm and caring and full of love, something I haven’t experienced in what feels like ages. “Oh no, Alpha. She is the child of Selene and Orion. She can do many things for your pack. So what say you? Will you join me? The pack I wish to attack currently holds her captive.”

She finally let out a long, deep breath. She was Lyra Vale. She was pregnant. She was a sovereign. And she was finally, truly, free.

“I won’t lose you.” Kaelen’s eyes fluttered open. Even through pain, his gaze burned with stubborn clarity. “You should… worry about yourself. Veynor won’t stop. He saw your power.” His hand found hers, weak but insistent. “You’ve shown them who you are, Serenya. The whole world will come hunting now.” “Then let them,” she snapped, gripping his hand tighter. “I’m done hiding.” Lyra Esthaven stormed into the glade, sword still dripping from the skirmish outside the forest. Her bronze hair was tangled, her armor streaked with mud, but her eyes blazed with the ferocity of someone who had carved her way through a battlefield.

Her posture was straight, her expression unreadable, and her eyes were so calm that Kael immediately felt like he had already done something wrong. She glanced at the floating status panel beside him. Her expression did not change. "You are late again," she said. Kael blinked. "Wait, wait… do I know you?" The girl looked at him as if the answer should have been obvious. "Lyra Windrune," she said. "And judging by your face, you forgot everything again." "Again?" he asked. Lyra gave him a flat look. "Do you always sound this useless, or is today special?"

Lyra. She was three months old now, a miraculous miniature of our combined love. Her cheeks were soft and plump, dimpling with every giggle. Her lashes, impossibly long and dark, curled delicately over her luminous eyes. And her laugh… gods, her laugh… it was a pure, melodic sound that could halt even the fiercest Alpha mid-command, disarming them with its sheer, unadulterated joy. Her hair, which had been dark at birth, had now settled into a shimmering, ethereal halo of silvery-gold, catching the sunlight like spun moonbeams. And her eyes… oh, her eyes… they were a perfect blend of mine and theirs. A breathtaking storm of moonlight and warmth and fire, holding a wisdom far beyond her tende

“Who are you, really?” She wiped her tears with the back of her hand. “All I know about myself is my name and my rank in the pack. My name is Lyra and I'm an omega in the pack. I don't know my family or anybody. The only people I know are the other omegas I grew up with.”

"How pretty! You guys don’t really need me here; I am just here to pretend to put makeup on her perfect face and sit back. What the hell?" Lyra blushed. She was unable to speak because of her shyness, but the girl ran towards her. "My name is Carla," she said. Her pink tutu immediately caught Rhian’s eye. "I am here to make you look pretty, but I guess you really don’t need that. But well, at least let me brush your face with nothing to get my paycheck." "You are being too kind, Carla," Lyra responded. "Please help me out today, I am extremely nervous because this is my first time to face a professional photographer."

Kathrine and Brayan joined this heavy aura. “Why? Who is this?” Miles jeered. “I don’t know, but she is freaking awesome.” “Listen to this,” she tuned in to the radio channel, and RJ Shanaya recited the same line I posted this morning. If you’re committed to somebody, you don’t allow yourself to find perfection in someone else. “She is freaking good. She works under the name Breathless, and I have been listening to her for the last week. You should tune in too.” Raya pulled my hand and winked.

“And you must be the moon-marked.” “Yes,” Lyra said, standing tall. “I’m Lyra Thorne. Daughter of no one. Mate to Kaelen Draven.I am cursed and trained. And i am not here to beg.” A low murmur moved among the other Elders emerging from the ruins. Ysara’s lips curled. “Good. We do not listen to beggars. Only to those who are ready to bleed.” --- That night, Lyra was given a room in the ancient stone fortress nestled behind the cliffs. She sat alone by a fire, breathing steadily.