Lyra Gelatine's Arc

Chapter 2 of 3

Morning came, and the village had not burned the woods. The boy had kept his word, at least for a night. But a safe cave meant nothing if no one else came to live in it. Lyra stood at the mouth of her sanctuary and looked at the empty stone rooms she had cleared. She had built a home for awakened monsters. She did not know where a single one of them hid. She pulled the black cloak over her blue skin and left the cave. She had heard of one person who traded with monster folk. The herb merchant came through this stretch of road every few weeks. Lyra waited near the trees until the woman appeared, leading a mule packed with bundled flowers. The merchant stopped without fear. She had dark braids threaded with small yellow blooms and a satchel worn soft at the strap. She looked at the hood, then past it, as if she already knew what hid underneath. "You're not a customer," she said. "Customers don't hide their faces from me." "I need to find others like me," Lyra said. She let the hood slip. Her hair glowed faint green in the shade. "Awakened ones. Where do they go?" The merchant did not step back. She checked a strap on the mule instead. "They go where humans don't look. I sell to them. I don't hand out their doors." "I'm not hunting them." Lyra pressed her palm to the ground. A shoot rose and opened into a small flower. "I made a place for them. It sits empty." The merchant studied the flower. She crouched, pinched a petal, and rubbed it between her fingers. "Grown clean. No rot." She stood. "That buys you one thing." She reached into a padded pocket and drew out a crystal on a small brass stand. Thin threads of light twisted inside it, green and violet and pale gold. "Mana leaves a trace. Awakened blood leaves a strong one. This finds it." She held it out. "Point it. Follow the threads. It won't lie." Lyra took the crystal. It hummed faint against her palm. "Where do I start?" "East. Past the marsh edge." The merchant tightened her satchel and clicked her tongue at the mule. "There's an old temple under the moss. Monsters live in its shell. They won't trust you fast." She began to walk. "Bring them flowers next time. Trust comes cheaper with something in your hands." She did not wait for thanks. She led the mule down the road and did not look back. Lyra closed her fingers around the crystal. The threads inside pulled faintly east, toward the marsh. She no longer stared at empty rooms with no answer. She had a direction and a tool. But a nest of frightened monsters would not open its doors to a stranger. Convincing them would be the next hard thing.