Lyra Wanderleaf's Arc

Chapter 1 of 2

Lyra Wanderleaf sat cross-legged on the floor of her small shack, sorting scraps of maps she had collected for years. A tiny purple pixie zipped around her head, humming a tune only she seemed to hear. Lyra wanted one thing more than anything: to prove that the elven blood she felt in her bones was real, and that her true home, Erevan's Rest, was waiting somewhere out there. She picked up the weatherworn relic from its shelf. It was shaped like a strange, cracked key. She had carried it to the old elf statue in the clearing many times before, whispering questions to its quiet stone face. Today she went again, the pixie darting at her shoulder. Lyra knelt at the statue's feet and spoke aloud, as she always did. Then she noticed something new. A thin slot had appeared along the carved robe, narrow and key-shaped. Her breath caught. She slid the relic in. It clicked. A hidden panel swung open. Inside lay a folded letter and a worn map. Her hands shook as she read words written in a script she somehow knew. The map marked a path leading far from everything she had ever known. Proof. Real proof. Lyra ran home, clutching the letter and map to her chest. She burst through the door and held them up to the pixie, the only friend who never laughed at her. "Look," she whispered. "It's real. It was always real." The pixie spun in bright circles, and Lyra knew her search had finally begun.