Lyra Titanica's Arc

Chapter 1 of 2

Lyra Titanica lay across the forest floor, and the hunger would not stop. She was already a giantess, tall as the oldest oaks. But she wanted more. She wanted the sacred grove at Entwood's heart, that ring of ancient trees where mortals left offerings. She would rule it, and no small creature would dare climb her toes to argue. To claim it, she had to keep growing. To grow, she had to eat. Her stomach twisted like a landslide. She had stripped the valley of berries and swallowed whole ponies, yet the hunger only sharpened. She dragged herself upright and searched the ridge. Then she saw it. A single tree stood alone, and from its highest branch hung one golden apple. Even far off, the fruit glowed. It was larger than a barn, its skin polished bright. Something in her belly told her that apple was made to feed a giantess. Lyra crossed the valley in three steps. She reached for the branch. A voice stopped her. "Halt, foul giantess! That fruit is under my protection!" She looked down. On a rock beside the tree stood a knight no taller than her thumbnail. His armor shone. A red feather nodded on his helmet. He held a tiny sword high, pointed at her ankle. This was Sir Gallant Tinwright, and he did not tremble. Lyra laughed. The sound bent the grass flat around him. "You would guard my supper?" "I would guard the whole wood from you," he shouted. He swung his sword and struck her heel. It felt like a splinter, nothing more. Still, he swung again. "The golden apple grants growth to whoever eats it. I will not let it feed your greed." So the little knight had just told her exactly what she needed. Lyra smiled. She plucked him off the rock between two fingers. He kicked and cursed, but she only set him down far in the grass, gentle as picking a flower. She would not waste time crushing him. Then she seized the golden apple. She bit down. Juice ran hot down her chin. Sweetness flooded her, and the ache in her belly finally eased. The hunger died. But something new began. Her bones stretched. Her skin pulled tight. She grew, and grew, and could not stop. The oaks that once matched her height now brushed her knees. The ridge shrank below her. She rose past the clouds, and the whole valley became a map at her feet. Lyra laughed with joy. Her hunger was gone. She was larger than any creature in Entwood. Below, Sir Gallant climbed to his feet. He stared up at the growing shadow that swallowed the sun. Then he turned and ran toward the sacred grove, faster than his little legs had ever carried him. He had to warn them. He had to bring help before she came to claim it.