Lyra's Books Novels & Stories

"Lyra!" someone yelled, shaking me awake, my hand shot to my neck as my eyes flung open to find myself looking into Lilly's. Her gaze reflected the exact same shade of golden brown as her father, Nael's. "You were sweating and tossing around. I thought you were seizing," Lilly explained, unaware of the inner turmoil I was fighting. There was no way she could know what I had just dreamed about or what she had saved me from reliving again. She didn't know about that night when everything went wrong. She didn't know that the fire magic I wielded had once belonged to her brother, or that I treasured it as much as I treasured Ignatius' memory.

“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 thinks she can pretend she doesn’t care?” Zara wanted me. She always had. She made it easy. She made it simple. She made it familiar. No complications, no questions, no challenge. Lyra… Lyra was a storm pretending to be rain. She looked fragile, but she had a spine sharp enough to draw blood. She didn’t bow. She didn’t plead. She didn’t break. And yet tonight… I had expected something different. Some crack. Some tremble. Anything to show she still felt.

She wasn’t going to allow Ezra mark her and she was certain about that. While still in the library, she heard noise of men chattering approaching and she grunted as she knew Ezra was here once more to disturb her. “This is Lyra; she is one of the members of the pack” apparently Ezra had brought a strange guest who he wanted to introduce to her. She hesitated before accepting the handshake from the man before her and eventually retired back to her reading without saying anything more. “I must say the she is quite a book addict” the man stated and Ezra simply chuckled.

“You have stirred old debts, broken sacred chains, and now the truth comes calling.” I frowned. “Polite way of saying ‘You are doomed’? Asking for a friend.” She did not laugh. “You are… complicated.” Her gaze flicked past me. The Rift pulsed as if it were alive. “Lyra, child of no wolf, hollow by decree, born soulless, cursed from your first breath, not by fate, but by punishment.” “Punishment?” I asked, incredulous. “For what? I mean, I tripped over my own feet once. Does that count?”

She fell quiet, her brows furrowed. “You said you want to tell me something,” Lyra looked at me, and I nodded. I leaned back in my chair and took a breath. “There’s a reason I never told you before. I was waiting. Waiting to see if you would inherit any powers. And now… I suppose it’s time you knew.” “Knew what?” she asked quietly. “That you come from a long line of powerful women, Lyra. Women who were born with special gifts. Some could see the future. Some could manipulate elements - air, earth, water, and fire. Others, like me, had the ability to heal using herbs and the energy of flowers.”

“Okay. Story about a coat.” Lyra sat on the edge of the bed and reached for one of the books on the shelf. Her hand hovered over a battered copy of *Little Red Riding Hood*—then veered away. There are no big bad wolves tonight. She picked a different one instead. Something about a small dragon who refused to learn how to roar properly and became a doctor instead. As she read, Luna’s eyelids drooped. Her fingers loosened on the stuffed wolf. Her breathing slowed, evened out.

But gods, I wanted her anyway. I finally stood and walked to my tent. I lay on my cot, staring at the canvas ceiling, listening to the camp breathe. Sleep didn't come. Instead, I heard footsteps. Light. Careful. Not Raven's. I reached for my blade. The tent flap opened. Lyra stood there, silhouetted against the moonlight. Her hair was loose. Her eyes were wide. “Nicholas,” she whispered. I sat up. “What's wrong? Is it the Rogue King? Did you dream of him again?”

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’s voice purred, completely dripping with smug satisfaction. I slowly turned the page, completely ignoring her. Lyra took a step closer, her heels clicking loudly against the floorboards. She was practically beaming, her golden hair perfectly styled and her chin tilted up like she’d already been crowned queen of the world. She honestly thought that my approval of her temporary ambassadorship during breakfast meant she was winning. She thought she’d successfully run circles around me and forced me to accept her presence in the palace.