Chapter 1 My Return

• Lyra's POV
• Before I opened my eyes, I took a moment to savor the air. It was crisp, clean, and gently laced with the fading warmth of summer. The early breath I drew felt friendly, familiar, and full of home. Autumn was creeping in; I could feel it in the slight chill brushing against my skin.
• I smiled before I could see anything. Even with my vision still adjusting, I could make out the familiar shapes in my room: the wooden cupboard next to my bed, the dangling yellow bulb swaying from its worn wire above. I had to be careful not to hit it when I stretched and I did.
• Golden shafts of light streamed through the gaps in my window, casting soft halos on the walls. One patch landed on the painting of a lion and her cub in the corner. Well, it was my favorite animal so I turned it into a mural. Another glow highlighted the small wooden box I kept beside my bed, the one housing one of my most important possessions: a .38 special revolver.
• Aside from a full-length mirror I’d hung beside the door, my room lacked any girlish charm. Then again, how many seventeen-year-old girls kept a gun in a box in their room?
• Still, it was good to be home.
• My grandfather raised me like a ranger, like a rancher, and like someone who had to be ready for anything. I started riding horses at seven; by ten, I was fast enough to challenge grown men. On my fifteenth birthday, he gave me Clover—a striking white horse with wild eyes and a gentle soul. A gift I treasured more than anything.
• Grandpa wasn’t just family. He was a parent, my mentor, my safe place. And today was his birthday.
• I tossed back the covers and planted my feet on the leathery floor, only to find it slick and wet.
• “Ugh!” I yelped, losing my balance. My legs splayed awkwardly as I hit the ground.
• Pain shoots up my thigh and hip before settling in my knees. I lay there for a moment, groaning softly while the ache simmered down.
• When I finally stood, I walked to the window and twisted my neck to the left to peer outside. The sun was low, casting a crimson hue over the fields, bathing our little town in warm light. A soft breeze stirred the trees, and birdsong floated in from afar, joyful, effortless, and nostalgic. It stirred something deep in me, something the city had buried under its noise and pressure while I was at school.
• I opened the creaking wooden door and stepped out into the hallway. As I descended the stairs, I was met with a low hum of chatter and laughter.
• The living room was full. Men, women, and children talking in cozy groups. I offered smiles and quick apologies for being late.
• Three familiar faces burst through the entryway: Emily, twenty and always energetic; Josephine, just a few months younger than me with a sharp tongue; and Abigail, the quietest of us, at sixteen.
• “We’re setting up a beef barbecue on the balcony,” Emily chirped, her emerald eyes sparkling. “Grandpa asked us to handle it. But we’re short on charcoal.”
• I frowned. “Didn’t Grandpa store some in the backyard shed?”
• Josephine shook her head. “The fire destroyed it two months ago. Most of the supplies were destroyed. The little we had left was used up this morning.”
• Aby and Josephine nodded in confirmation.
• “What now?” I asked.
• “We’re thinking Josephine and I will head to the mountain woods,” Emily replied. “There are coal deposits up there.”
• I looked between them and then at Abigail, who had remained quiet.
• “She’s staying behind,” Emily explained. “Someone’s got to manage the barbecue heat. Everything’s got to be just right.”
• I raised a brow. “And what exactly am I supposed to do while you all have your parts?”
• They exchanged glances and then laughed softly.
• “You,” Josephine said, “are going to stay put and let us do the heavy lifting. Today’s for your grandpa. Relax.”
• “Oh, please,” I huffed. “His birthday, not mine. Can you hear yourselves?”
• I folded my arms. “I’ve missed hiking the hills, galloping with Clover, visiting Lake Oswego. I want to do something. Not sit around being babysat like a princess. Right, Abigail?”
• “Ugh,” Abigail replied, furrowing her brows. She rarely said much, she preferred silence to revealing her stutter to people.
• Emily tried to interject. “But—”
• “But nothing.” I cut her off with a sharp glare, though the frustration in my chest wasn’t aimed at them. No one needed to feel bad today.
• I sighed. Their concern was genuine. I could feel it in the softness of Emily’s voice and the glances they shared. They wanted to spare me from stress. Sweet, but unnecessary.
• “You know what?” I grinned, wrapping my arms dramatically around Emily’s neck. “You’re going to stay behind and watch the beef while we go charcoal hunting. You’ve always been the kitchen queen anyway.”
• Emily burst into laughter, shaking her head as if to say, you win. I darted upstairs to change, the girls following suit. I hadn’t seen Grandpa yet, but I was sure I would once we returned.
• I drove his old truck, it was faster and had enough room to carry the coal. I parked under a grove of trees, the rocky terrain making further driving impossible. After a quick inspection of the tires, I turned to my friends.
• “This is as far as we go. From here, it’s boots and muscle. Abigail, grab the shovels and the bag.”
• Abigail obeyed. The crunch of dried leaves beneath our feet harmonized with the soft hush of the wind as we hiked.
• “Whoa!” I stumbled, nearly twisting my ankle in a hidden ditch.
• “Watch it,” Josephine called. “Don’t break your leg. No boyfriend’s coming to rescue you.”
• “Sorry,” Abigail muttered with a grin.
• “Maybe we could call Ethan,” I teased, glancing at Josephine. “He’d be delighted to help.”
• Josephine rolled her eyes. “Ethan and I are ancient history. I’ve forgotten the name.”
• “Since when?”
• “Since I heard he was cheating.”
• “Heard?” I asked, raising a brow. “From who?”
• “Forget the source.”
• I snorted. “Tell me you're sixteen without telling me you're sixteen.”
• “What are you implying?” she snapped. “Emily and Abigail know too. I’m not bluffing.”
• “Ugh,” Abigail said quickly, shaking her head. “Nope. No idea.”
• That broke me. I burst into laughter. Abigail’s instant denial was comedy, seriously.
• Josephine scowled at her. “Really?”
• “Josephine,” I said, still catching my breath, “we don’t have to always agree with you. And Abigail doesn’t owe you loyalty in gossip.”
• “But she’s heard this before!”
• “Which is exactly why it’s impressive she didn’t side with you this time. That kind of clarity might save your butt someday.”
• Josephine huffed. “Save my ass, my foot.”
• She stomped past us, shovel in hand, and marched ahead.
• Abigail flashed a sheepish smile. We let Josephine lead for a bit until she realized she had no idea where she was going. Quietly, I took the lead again.
• After fifteen silent minutes, we found it, the old coal deposit.
• A shallow cave opened like an arch on the side of the mountain. Thick, tangled tree roots draped over its mouth like webs. A fallen red cedar, massive and ancient, lay across the ground, forcing us to climb over.
• We made it inside.
• “Wow,” Abigail whispered, her voice hushed by the weight of the dark. “Here… it’s quiet.”