8. Lyra
Chapter 8
Lyra
We touch down in the only place I could think of, given my inebriated state and current lack of friends—the Lycan Realm. As soon as we arrive, the familiar sight of the midnight trees greets me, their branches heavy with spectacular shades of blue. Everything here is in full bloom for spring, and the lush, vibrant colors are probably the only thing I miss from this realm. Well, that and Rhett.
This realm is where everything started. It’s where Aidan stole my innocence and where Athalda orchestrated the first ceremony. As much as I may truly hate this realm, I’ve owed my old friend Rhett a visit, and considering everything that’s happened, I fear he won’t be pleased to see me.
I remember Luke pointing out Rhett’s house to me during my first visit here, but it’s hard to say if he still lives there or how he’ll react to seeing me again. Gods, I haven’t seen him since before Nyx killed Aidan, and so much has changed since then. Now, after the council meeting where I killed Larc—their new leader and Rhett’s former pack leader and friend—I’m anxious .
My steps grow heavier as I draw closer to Rhett’s house. The memories of my last visit, mixed with the recent violent events, churn a storm of nerves within me. Despite the dread that tightens my chest, I know I need to see Rhett. I need to ensure he’s okay and need to know if I can call him an ally in the coming days. Especially if Kaine is starting an uprising against me and seeking Samaels help…avoiding the Lycans forever isn’t an option.
The village is eerily silent as I walk, the sun having long begun its descent from the sky. I glance over at Chepi, who’s staying close by my side, opting to fly rather than walk. “Neat trick you did back there with your new horns,” I say, and he swoops in close to lick my cheek.
I wonder what other magic Ryella gifted him. He doesn’t seem to change at all when he uses his new magic. Still my same sweet boy, no black eyes or anything.
I think I need to stop being so afraid of my dark magic and start using it more, giving into it and embracing it. I don’t care what anyone else thinks. They don’t know how I feel, and if I’m going to truly master this new magic, I need to practice using it.
It’s probably a good thing I didn’t go all black-eyed and release my shadows back at the tavern. That would have only helped to solidify their fears, making me appear like the monster Kaine is painting me to be. Who was that guy anyway? I can’t believe he recognized me and grabbed me like that.
I run a hand over my face, feeling the weight of the day’s events. All I want right now is another drink and to curl up in a warm bed. The temptation to channel back to Drew’s and retreat to my room is strong. But I know I need to face this, to talk to Rhett alone. It’s important and needs to be done without any more delays or distractions.
As I pass through another farm field, I turn down the trail that leads to Rhett’s cabin. I can already see it in the distance, and the plume of smoke curling from the chimney assures me someone is home. My pace quickens with anticipation, but as I draw nearer, I spot him sitting on the steps as if he’s been waiting for me. Rhett, with his jet-black hair and tan skin, those piercing baby-blue eyes cutting through the dimming light—it hasn’t been that long since we last met, but he looks even more imposing now. He rises, his figure looming larger as he takes a few steps toward me.
I muster a smile, though his face remains stoic, unreadable. Swallowing the nervous lump in my throat, I brace myself. “Hi,” I manage to say cheerfully, my voice tinged with a silly, buzzed lilt. The simplicity of the greeting hangs awkwardly in the air as I approach.
“What are you doing here, Lyra?” Rhett asks as I come to a stop in front of him. His tone is guarded, not the warm greeting I had hoped for, but at least he’s not shifting into a wolf and attacking me.
“Can we talk?” I ask, managing a small smile in an attempt to lighten the mood. He regards me with a scrutinizing look, his arms crossed, taking a moment to weigh his options or decide how much to let his guard down.
“Come inside,” he finally says, turning back toward the cabin and gesturing for me to follow. I exchange a nervous glance with Chepi, who seems to sense the tension, and then I follow after Rhett.
Once inside, I quickly take in the cabin’s interior, relieved to see he appears to be alone. The space is charming in its rustic simplicity. A small stone fireplace sits in the corner of the main sitting room, surrounded by a couch and a few lounge chairs that, though worn, look invitingly cozy. A giant fur rug sprawls across the floor in front of the fire.
“Do you mind if I sit?” I ask awkwardly, still standing near the front door.
“Be my guest,” Rhett replies with a hint of irritation. I move to the fur rug and sit cross-legged, grateful for the warmth of the fire, and Chepi sprawls out next to me. I clear my throat, preparing to explain everything, but Rhett sits down across from me, leaning back against a chair and stretching his legs toward the fire. This gesture feels like a good sign. He doesn’t hate me if he’s inviting me in and sitting close.
“What’s happened to you, Lyra?” he asks, locking eyes with me.
“What do you mean?” I respond, puzzled by his question.
“Last I saw you, you’re with King Onyx looking for some old sorceress, then rumors spread that your Fae king is responsible for killing Aidan.” He runs a hand through his tousled black hair, looking genuinely confused and concerned. “Fuck, good riddance really, none of us cared for Aidan. But then you disappear for months, and all the realms are going to shit, being overrun by attacks. Then I hear Larc has to attend a meeting to discuss you and some new dark magic you’ve gotten into.”
He pauses, allowing the weight of what he’s saying to sink in, and I unconsciously start to chew on the inside of my cheek.
“And then he ends up dead, and according to Kaine, it was at your hand. I didn’t want to believe it—to believe all the things I’ve been hearing about you. I mean, what the fuck is going on with you, Lyra?”
His barrage of questions hits me harder than I anticipated, each one a reminder of the chaotic spiral my life has become. I realize I need to be transparent with Rhett, to explain the complexities and pressures that have driven my actions, hoping he can understand.
“First of all, I haven’t ‘gotten into’ dark magic,” I begin, trying to keep my voice steady. “You say it like I went seeking out trouble. I inherited my magic, which is dark magic, and it wasn’t by choice.” I pause, taking a deep breath to steady myself for the explanation that needs to come next.
“Larc was called to meet as part of this council, the Luminary Council, which has been around forever, I guess. They are responsible for ridding our world of dark magic, for getting rid of the last dark sorcerer to wield it,” I explain, hoping to clarify the gravity of the situation.
Before I can continue, Rhett interrupts harshly, “You say it like it’s a bad thing. We don’t need dark magic in Eguina. There’s already enough darkness here.”
I try to remain calm, not wanting to escalate the tension. “Rhett, you have to understand, the council was attacking me. They wanted to kill me or find a way to strip me of my magic. I had no choice...” The memory of that night’s desperation surfaces.
“Say it. I want to hear you say it. He was like a father to me. He was good to you when you visited here. He was a good man, and you killed him,” he presses, his tone hardening.
I swallow the lump in my throat. “I killed him,” I admit, the weight of the confession heavy on my tongue. I want to continue, to defend my actions, but Rhett doesn’t give me the chance.
“You killed him, and from what I hear, he wasn’t the only one. You killed half the people in that room that night because they were trying to protect Eguina from your dark magic. You killed innocent people. Now tell me, how does that make you any better than Aidan himself, or Samael for that matter?”
Hurt, I feel my magic stir, a dangerous boiling beneath my skin.
My shadows yearn to break free, to respond to his accusations with the fury they demand. Yet I know that yielding to that impulse would only prove his point. It’s a struggle to keep them contained, to avoid letting the darkness define me as it has defined so many before me. I clench my fists, fighting to keep control, to find a way that can explain and bridge the gulf of misunderstanding and hurt between us.
“Rhett, he may have been good to you, but that night I was cornered. I was provoked,” I say, my voice heavy with the burden of that memory. “I do regret that lives were lost—not because they didn’t force my hand but because it hurt you.” My plea hangs in the air, but Rhett’s shake of his head tells me he’s not ready to accept it.
“You don’t regret what you did. You think it was justified,” he challenges.
I pause, absorbing the accusation, feeling its weight. I have no idea how this escalated so fast, but I need to diffuse things. “Perhaps I don’t regret it, Rhett, because I’m exhausted. I’m exhausted from being a pawn, from being used and tormented. Everything has been stripped from me, and I refuse to let them take my magic too. I will not bow to those elders who parade as sages yet understand nothing of my struggle or my power.” My voice grows firmer, fueled by a mix of defiance and raw honesty.
“That night, I was surrounded by the fearful and the power-hungry, by the cruel and the ignorant, and I defended myself,” I assert. “I defended my very essence.”
I let out a heavy sigh, the air filled with tension and unspoken thoughts. Rhett looks down at his hands in his lap. Seeing his contemplation, I reach over and place my hand atop his.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper softly. He doesn’t pull his hand away, which I take as a sign to continue. “I’m sorry my actions hurt you. I’m sorry you lost someone you cared about. I’m sorry things have been so bad lately.”
I give his hand a gentle squeeze, hoping to convey my sincerity and my desire to mend what has been broken between us.
But when Rhett finally looks up, his eyes are filled with fury. “I don’t accept your apology. I can’t have you here right now. I thought I could, but I can’t,” he says sharply, knocking my hand away and rising to his feet.
“Rhett, please, I thought we were friends. Can’t we talk for a bit longer?” I plead, standing to face him.
“I’m the new leader of the packs now, and having you here looks bad. It looks like a betrayal to my packs, to my people,” he growls.
A flurry of thoughts swirls through my mind—I want to ask who he fought to become the leader and what kind of moon ceremony happened. I also want to give him a hug, knowing the Lycan Realm could benefit from a leader with a good heart. But he’s already walking to the door, and the reality that he’s ejecting me from his life hits hard. I bend over and pick up Chepi, who had fallen asleep in front of the fire.
“At least tell me this,” I say, stopping in front of the door. “Do you want Kaine to remain regent over Cloudrum? You know he’s actively looking for Samael in hopes he will reclaim the throne. Is that really better than me?”
He runs a hand through his hair, a gesture of frustration, and sighs. “I can’t promise I’ll be your ally, Lyra, if that’s what you’re asking. But I’ll try to keep the packs out of it,” he replies.
“What does that mean?”
“It means I can’t be your ally, but I won’t stand against you either. Now go before someone spots you and decides to do something stupid,” he says, opening the door.
I step outside, pausing to turn back, and catch Rhett’s gaze one last time. “Goodbye, Rhett,” I say. He nods once, his expression unwavering. But as he begins to close the door, I catch a fleeting softness in his eyes—an echo of past closeness.
The door closes with a gentle thud, and I’m left with the lingering sense of what once was and what might have been.