Lyra Wanderlight's Arc

Chapter 2 of 14

Lyra met the creature's black eyes and started to ask what it wanted. The words died in her throat. The thing went rigid, every leaf-wing trembling. Its gaze locked on something behind her. The amulet screamed cold against her skin. She turned. In the tall grass fifty paces off, white bones gleamed. A skeleton rested among purple flowers, its skull too wide, its ribs curved wrong. Something hung from the bones — a blade half-buried in the grass, its silver handle wrapped in purple scales. A citrine stone glowed at its pommel, bright as a trapped sun. Lyra's amulet pulsed ice through her chest. She took a step toward the bones. The creature shrieked behind her, wings snapping open. Lyra stopped. She looked back at the creature, then at the blade again. The citrine in that dagger matched her amulet's stone. Whatever it was, her amulet recognized it. Wanted it. But the creature was afraid — so afraid it had frozen solid. She could grab the blade and leave. Or she could trust the warning. She stepped back. The cold faded from the amulet. The creature folded its wings and tilted its head, watching her with something that looked like approval. Lyra felt the question settle in her chest. The amulet didn't just pull toward power. It pulled toward things that could destroy her. And now she knew — when the cold came, it wasn't a command. It was a choice.