Lyra Jinwood's Arc

Chapter 2 of 2

Lyra woke to a knock on the chapel door. The masked merchant stood in the gray dawn. He had bound her vow the night before, sealing her promise not to hang the sorceress. Now his hooded head tilted, and his velvet half-mask caught the light. "A binding leaves a mark on the one who casts it," he said, voice like honey over gravel. "I carry your oath's weight now. That costs." Lyra stepped outside. The red cord tugged as the sorceress followed, still chained to her wrist. "You named no price last night," Lyra said. "I name it now." Kael raised one gloved hand. "Refuse me, and I withdraw my witness. Your vow unravels. The sorceress keeps your rune and hangs you with it." He let the threat settle. "I want the pale stag that grazes the ridge above. Bring me its heart by dusk, and your oath holds." Lyra knew the beast. A silver stag with a moonlit sheen, quick as spilled water. Killing it meant leaving the sorceress behind, but the cord forbade that. So she dragged the woman up the slope beside her. They crouched in wet ferns near the ridge. The stag stepped into the clearing, antlers pale against the trees. Lyra drew her blade. The cord jerked. The sorceress had stumbled, and the stag's ears swung toward them. "Let me," the sorceress whispered. She lifted her bound hand. A soft light bloomed at her fingers. The stag froze, calm, as if it heard a familiar voice. "Now." Lyra threw the blade. It struck true. The stag folded into the ferns without a cry. She knelt and worked the heart free. Blood soaked her sleeve. The sorceress watched, quiet. "You could have run while it bolted," Lyra said. "The cord runs both ways." The sorceress wiped her light-touched hand. "And I want you free of it as much as you do." They carried the heart down to the merchant's cart. Its covered shelves held charms and rolled blankets, a lantern swinging by the tailgate. Kael took the heart in both gloved hands. He weighed it, then nodded once. "Paid. Your oath stands." As he turned to stow it, his hood slipped. Lyra saw the edge of his cart's lockbox left open. Inside sat a weathered leather book stamped with a guild crest, and beside it a dark metal token cut with occult marks. She knew that crest. It belonged to the very hunters who had hired her. Kael snapped the lockbox shut. But he was too slow. "You've seen nothing," he said, the honey gone from his voice. Lyra held his blank mask with her eyes. "I've seen enough," she said. Her vow was safe. But the merchant who held it in place was no simple trader. He kept the hunters' stolen records, and now she knew a secret worth more than a stag's heart.