The sky above Lunareth Glade was alive with light.

  Soft ribbons of opalescent hues wove through the air, casting their glow upon the fae gardens below. The scent of moonbloom flowers drifted in the breeze, their petals shimmering like captured twilight. Fireflies pulsed lazily between the branches of silver-barked trees, their light reflecting off the tranquil streams winding through the heart of the glade. It was a night of quiet magic, the kind that made the world feel endless and safe.

  Until the radiance shattered.

  A sudden explosion of brilliance split the sky, turning the soft dusk into a jagged, blinding white. Lyric Stardust barely had time to react before a shockwave tore through the glade, rattling the trees and sending ripples across the crystal-clear water. Her basket of luminous blossoms tumbled from her hands, the petals scattering like falling stars.

  The magic in the air lurched—a strange, unnatural silence swallowing the once-lively hum of the garden.

  Then came the sound.

  A piercing, inhuman screech sliced through the night, curling around Lyric like a living thing. She gasped, pressing her hands to her ears, but the shrill noise still coiled deep into her bones. A shadow stirred at the edge of the trees, shifting and writhing—a darkness that did not belong in the fae realm.

  Then it moved.

  A mass of pulsing void slithered forward, its tendrils undulating like liquid night. Flowers withered at its touch, their glow snuffed out in an instant. The silver-barked trees dulled to gray, their leaves curling inward as if recoiling in fear. Even the air seemed thinner, struggling to carry breath, sound—life.

  Lyric tried to move, but her legs refused to obey. Her luminous teal eyes, wide and unblinking, stayed locked on the approaching abyss.

  A wraith.

  A creature that devoured magic.

  She opened her mouth—to scream, to call for help—but all that escaped was a trembling breath.

  Then—golden light erupted before her.

  "Lyric, get behind me!"

  Her mother's voice rang out, steady as steel.

  Maia Stardust materialized in a swirl of radiance, her hair lifting as if caught in an unseen current. Power rippled from her, the brilliance of her presence holding back the encroaching void. She raised a hand, fingers shimmering with raw energy. The wraith recoiled, its form writhing in protest.

  But it did not retreat.

  It lunged.

  Another explosion of light—brighter, searing—slammed into the creature before it could reach them. It convulsed, a screech ripping through the air as it shrank back, tendrils thrashing violently.

  Elric Stardust strode into the clearing, his staff a column of white-hot brilliance. The glow did not simply illuminate—it burned.

  "Move, Lyric."

  Her father's voice was calm. Unshaken. A command woven from certainty.

  Her legs finally obeyed. She stumbled toward the golden shield Maia conjured, slipping behind its protective warmth as the battle erupted before her.

  Her parents moved in perfect sync. Maia lifted her hands, fingers carving delicate sigils into the air, and the wind obeyed—silver gales spiraled outward, slicing through the wraith's writhing tendrils like a thousand ethereal blades. The creature shrieked, its form unraveling in the storm of magic.

  Elric struck next. He thrust his staff forward, and light exploded from its tip—brilliant, blistering. Lyric flinched at the intensity, her vision swimming with afterimages. The wraith convulsed, its screech twisting into a fractured wail before it shrank in on itself, trying to escape the relentless radiance.

  Lyric barely had time to breathe before something flickered at the edge of the clearing.

  Another shadow peeled itself from the trees, gliding forward in eerie stillness.

  Her throat closed. She tried to call out, but Elric was already moving.

  A pivot. A flash of silver light.

  The second wraith disintegrated before it could strike.

  And then—silence.

  The garden exhaled, its glow hesitantly returning, as if testing whether it was truly safe.

  Lyric stepped from behind the barrier, her legs trembling beneath her weight. The scent of burnt magic clung to the air, sharp and acrid. The unease in her chest refused to settle.

  Maia turned first, eyes sharp, scanning every inch of her. "Are you hurt?"

  Lyric swallowed. "No." The word barely left her lips.

  Elric approached next, his staff dimming to a soft ember. He studied the fading shadows, his expression unreadable, then exhaled. "Good. The wraiths were only scouts. A real assault would have been much worse."

  The words barely registered. Lyric's fingers curled against the fabric of her dress, her knuckles white. Scouts. The creatures that had drained the life from the glade, that had sent her trembling behind a shield—those had only been scouts.

  Her parents had cut them down with effortless precision, their magic shaping the battlefield like artists at work. Maia's sigils had danced through the air, the wind itself bending to her will. Elric's light had burned through the darkness, unraveling it as if it had never existed. And Lyric—

  Lyric had stood there.

  Rooted. Silent. Helpless.

  A cold knot tightened in her stomach.

  Maia stepped closer, brushing a stray lock of silver hair from Lyric's face. "You did well to stay out of the way," she murmured, the warmth in her voice meant to soothe. "The barrier was for your safety."

  The words settled over her like a blanket too heavy to bear.

  She knew her mother meant to reassure her—knew Maia was simply being kind.

  But all Lyric heard was what had been left unsaid. You weren't strong enough to fight.

  Later that evening, the crystalline pond shimmered under the moon's radiance, its surface a shifting mirror of pewter and dusk. Lyric sat at the edge, her arms wrapped tightly around her knees. The cool night air pressed against her skin, but it wasn't enough to chase away the heat prickling behind her eyes. She dipped her fingers into the water, watching the ripples distort her reflection—warping the weariness in her gaze, the tremor in her lips.

  A single drop fell. Then another. The pond swallowed them whole.

  Liora.

  The name carried the weight of laughter, golden and bright, twirling through the air like fireflies. Lyric could almost hear it—her sister's delighted giggles, the way she darted between the trees, chasing pixie lights as if they were shooting stars she could catch in her hands. Sunlight had draped the glade that day, warm and endless, wrapping them in a world that had never known fear.

  "Slow down!" Lyric called, chasing after her, but Liora only spun in place, arms outstretched, her honey-blonde hair catching the glow. "The pixies will wait!"

  "But what if they don't?" Liora's grin stretched wide, her green eyes sparkling with mischief. "What if they're playing a game? What if we have to catch them before they disappear forever?"

  Lyric rolled her eyes, but she was smiling.

  Then—Liora's scream.

  The world cracked apart. The golden light fractured into shadow. Trees loomed like skeletal fingers. Cold, unnatural, suffocating.

  Lyric had whirled around, her heart hammering against her ribs. And there it was. A monstrous shape, shifting like liquid darkness, slipping between the trunks. A wraith.

  The air turned to ice in her lungs.

  Liora stood frozen, her tiny hands clenched into fists, her chest rising and falling too fast. The wraith slithered forward, drawn to them, to their light.

  "Liora! Move!"

  Her sister didn't.

  Lyric threw herself in front of her, arms outstretched. Magic. She just needed her magic. She squeezed her eyes shut, reaching inward, feeling for the spark, the pulse, the warmth—

  A flicker. A breath of luminance.

  Then nothing.

  The shadows surged. Tendrils lashed out, curling around Liora's waist. She let out a choked sob, struggling against them, her fingers stretching desperately toward Lyric.

  Lyric lunged, the scent of burnt air filling her nose as she grabbed for her sister's hand. "I've got you! Hold on—"

  Their fingertips brushed—just for a moment—before the darkness swallowed her whole.

  The wraith vanished. Silence fell.

  Lyric stood there, empty hands trembling, her skin stinging where the gloom had burned her. The world around her remained unchanged, the trees still swaying, the pixie lights still drifting.

  As if nothing had happened.

  But the space beside her was empty.

  She dug her nails into her arms, pressing against the phantom touch of Liora's fingers, trying to hold on to something that was already gone.

  The years blurred together, a slow, suffocating drift of grief and unspoken regret. Lyric went through the motions, but the magic that had once flickered inside her—soft and uncertain, like candlelight—had dimmed into nothingness.

  On the morning of her eighteenth birthday, she had stood barefoot in the meadow, her breath shallow, her fingers curled into the fabric of her tunic. Fae wings were supposed to emerge like dawn breaking over the horizon—an inevitable, glorious transformation. She had closed her eyes, waiting, willing something to shift beneath her shoulder blades.

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  But the wind had passed her by.

  By nightfall, the truth had settled over her like a shroud: nothing had changed. She remained earthbound, her back as bare as the day she was born.

  The whispers had started soon after.

  "She's the broken one."

  "A fae who cannot fly? Impossible."

  "Maybe if Liora had survived—"

  Even when her parents tried to shield her, their silence spoke volumes. Her mother's fingers lingered too long over Liora's old hair ribbons. Her father hesitated before setting out two plates instead of three at dinner. The house wasn't empty, but without Liora's laughter, it felt like a shell of what it once was.

  Lyric never asked if they wished it had been her instead. She didn't need to.

  Now, sitting by the pond, she traced circles in the water, watching as her reflection wavered beneath the ripples. The moonlight cast her features in silver, but she barely recognized the girl staring back.

  "I couldn't save her," she whispered. The words barely made a sound, but they carried the weight of a thousand sleepless nights. "I wasn't strong enough then, and I'm not strong enough now."

  A droplet splashed onto the surface—whether from the sky or her own eyes, she couldn't tell.

  A faint shimmer broke the darkness, and Astraea flickered into view beside her, her glow dim, her tiny form a quiet presence against the stillness. Astraea had been with Lyric for as long as she could remember, a steadfast presence crafted by her parents in the aftermath of Liora's loss.

  She didn't speak at first, only hovered near, the way she always did when Lyric's thoughts became too heavy to carry alone.

  "They didn't need me," Lyric murmured, her voice raw. "I couldn't save my sister, and today... I just stood there. I didn't even try to help."

  Astraea's light pulsed faintly. "Lyric, you were just a child back then. No one expected you to fight."

  Lyric let out a hollow laugh. "Then why does it feel like I should have?"

  She clenched her fists, nails digging into her palms, but the pain was nothing compared to the ache that had settled in her chest years ago—a wound that refused to close. The memory of her parents wielding their power so effortlessly burned in her mind. They had swept aside the wraiths like dust in the wind, their magic fierce and absolute. And she had only watched—helpless, useless.

  "I'm nothing like them," she admitted, the words scraping against her throat. "Their power runs in my veins, but somehow, I'm still... nothing."

  Astraea drifted closer, her luminescence brushing against Lyric's cheek like a whisper of warmth. "You're comparing yourself to two of the most powerful fae alive," she murmured. "That's hardly fair."

  Lyric exhaled sharply. "They're my parents. I should be stronger. I should be something more than this."

  "Power takes time," Astraea said, her voice steady. "Your parents didn't master their abilities overnight."

  "But they had something to master," Lyric snapped, frustration spilling over. "What do I have? I can barely fly, my magic is pathetic, and—" Her voice broke. She pressed a hand to her chest, where the ache of inadequacy burned the most. "I'm not even sure why they keep believing in me."

  Astraea hovered in silence before speaking. "Because they see what you can't. They see what's there, even if it's not ready yet."

  She clenched her fists again, tighter this time, until her knuckles paled. The air around her stirred—not just a passing breeze, but something deeper, something unseen. The scent of damp earth and wildflowers sharpened, the very air shimmering with a presence just beyond reach. A breeze curled through the glade, stirring her hair, swirling around her like a whisper of unseen wings.

  The pond's surface shivered, not just with ripples, but with patterns—delicate spirals that faded before they could fully form. The leaves near her feet quivered, lifting as if drawn by invisible currents, only to drift back down in silence.

  Neither Lyric nor Astraea noticed.

  Lyric shook her head, blinking hard against the sting of tears. "That doesn't make it any easier."

  She hugged her knees to her chest, curling inward as if she could fold herself small enough to disappear. The night air pressed against her, thick with unshed grief, with years of waiting for something that never came.

  Then—footsteps.

  She stiffened, quickly brushing at her eyes before turning. A tall figure approached, his stride sure, his presence unmistakable even without the staff that usually accompanied him.

  Elric Stardust.

  Astraea's glow wavered, dimming like a fading ember before she drifted back, her form dissolving into the night. "Please," she whispered, her voice barely more than the wind stirring the leaves. "Help her understand she's not alone."

  Elric exhaled softly, his eyes lingering on the space where Astraea had been. He inclined his head slightly, more to himself than anyone else. "I will."

  He stepped forward, his boots pressing into the damp earth with a quiet firmness. Settling down beside Lyric, he let the silence stretch, the weight of his presence grounding her in a way words never could. He didn't speak at first, only gazed at the pond, its surface still rippling from unseen forces.

  "You're upset," he finally said, his voice gentle, as if acknowledging the truth would lessen its burden.

  Lyric stiffened. She wiped at her eyes quickly, fingers brushing away the evidence of her tears. "I'm fine."

  A muscle in Elric's jaw twitched, but his tone remained steady. "You're not." There was no judgment in his voice, only certainty. "And that's alright."

  She swallowed hard, drawing her knees tighter to her chest. "I wanted to help. I wanted to stand with you and Mother, but... I couldn't. I was useless." Her voice cracked on the last word, shame curling around it like smoke.

  Elric turned to her, his silver gaze steady, unwavering. "Do you think Maia and I were born this strong?"

  Lyric let out a short, bitter laugh. "You make it look easy."

  "That's because we've had centuries to refine our magic." A small smile ghosted his lips, but there was something distant in his eyes, a flicker of memory. "When I was your age, I wasn't much different from you."

  She scoffed, skeptical. "You? Struggling with magic?"

  Elric chuckled, the sound warm and deep, like distant thunder rolling over the hills. "I was a disaster. My light magic was erratic at best, dangerous at worst. I once nearly blinded an entire assembly of elders."

  Despite herself, Lyric's lips twitched. "Seriously?"

  He nodded, smirking. "It wasn't until I faced true adversity that I began to understand my power."

  Lyric frowned, tracing patterns in the dirt with her fingertips. "So what am I supposed to do? Just wait until some great crisis forces me to grow?"

  "No." His expression sobered, the quiet authority in his voice sinking into her bones. "You train. You fail. And you keep going. Power isn't handed to us, Lyric. It's earned."

  The words settled over her, heavy yet reassuring. She still felt small, still felt like a shadow cast by her parents' brilliance—but maybe, just maybe, she could start carving out her own light.

  Elric rose, brushing stray leaves from his mantle. Before he left, he glanced back at her, something softer flickering behind his gaze. "You are not a disappointment, Lyric. Never forget that."

  She watched as he stepped back inside, his presence fading beyond the warm glow of the home.

  The pond's surface stilled, yet the echoes of his words rippled through her, deeper than she expected.

  She had spent so long convincing herself she was alone in her struggle, but the quiet weight of grief in her father's eyes told her otherwise. They never spoke of Liora, but the loss was there, woven into the spaces between words, stitched into every unspoken moment.

  Maybe she wasn't as alone as she thought.

  Lyric inhaled deeply, the cool night air filling her lungs, washing over her like a silent promise.

  Behind her, soft footsteps rustled against the grass. She turned to find her mother standing in the doorway, moonlight weaving pale strands through her midnight hair.

  "Lyric," Maia called gently. "Come inside. Elder Verena has returned. Your father would like you to join us."

  Lyric hesitated but nodded, following her mother inside. As she stepped through the doorway, the soft radiance of runes etched into the wooden frame flickered in response to their presence before settling back into a steady shimmer. The familiar scent of starpetal incense lingered in the air, blending with the faint crackle of the enchanted hearth that burned with a steady frost-blue flame.

  Her father sat in the main hall, his gaze distant. Across from him, Elder Verena adjusted the folds of her deep indigo robes, the embroidered constellations shifting slightly as she moved.

  "Elder Verena," Lyric greeted, dipping her head slightly.

  "Ah, Lyric Stardust," Elder Verena greeted with a knowing smile, her voice carrying the weight of wisdom. "It is good to see you, my dear."

  As she turned her attention back to Elric, she said, "The elders expect your family to join us for the ceremony at Luminaries Sanctum." With a slight bow, Elder Verena rose from her seat, preparing to take her leave. "I will see you all there," she added before departing, the sigils on the doorframe pulsing softly as she stepped through.

  Lyric's curiosity piqued, and she glanced at her father. "What ceremony, Father?" she asked, her brow furrowing.

  Elric looked at her, his expression serious. "It's a ceremony being held by Sentinel Emberwing at Luminaries Sanctum," he explained. "A significant event for our community."

  Lyric's breath caught as she recalled the stories of the sacred place where the Eclipse Heart resided, hidden within the heart of the Sanctum. The very air surrounding it was said to shimmer with ancient power, protected by the Sentinel's unwavering watch.

  "That place? The one where the Eclipse Heart is? And the Sentinel is the guardian of Luminaries Sanctum?"

  "Yes, that very place," Elric confirmed, his gaze steady. "The elders believe it is important for our family to attend."

  Maia added, "We'll be going tomorrow morning. It will be a chance to honor our traditions and connect with all other communities."

  As Lyric absorbed this information, a wave of tension washed over her. The thought of standing before the Eclipse Heart—before all those who had mastered their magic—made her heart race. What if she embarrassed herself? What if she couldn't control her powers?

  Sensing her unease, Elric placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "Lyric, it's normal to feel nervous. Just remember that you are part of this family and our community. You belong, and you will find your place."

  She looked up at him, finding comfort in his words, the warmth of his presence soothing the knots of anxiety in her stomach. "Thank you, Father," she said softly, a small smile breaking through her worry.

  Elric stepped back, nodding toward the stairs. "Let's prepare for tomorrow." His smile was small but certain. "Together, we'll face whatever comes."

  As Lyric followed her parents deeper into the house, a flicker of something stirred in her chest—not quite confidence, not yet—but something close.

  Hope.

  And maybe, just maybe, that was enough to begin.

  Morning light spilled through the trees, casting golden threads over the Stardust estate. Lyric stood at the threshold of their home, her fingers brushing against the smooth, engraved wood of the doorframe—ancient symbols pulsing faintly beneath her touch. A cool breeze carried the scent of blooming moonlilies, mingling with the faint hum of magic in the air.

  Before her, a magnificent Celestial Chariot awaited—its body carved from enchanted stardrift wood, shimmering with iridescent hues that shifted with the light. Constellations wove across its sleek surface, the delicate carvings coming alive as faint pulses of energy traced the intricate astral designs. The ethereal reins, spun from luminescent star-thread, hovered weightlessly in the air, awaiting their rider's command.

  Maia strode forward, her movements fluid as she placed a hand against the chariot's frame. A subtle surge rippled through the structure, as if the magic within recognized her touch. With a flick of her wrist, the reins lifted, responding to her command like a living entity.

  Lyric stepped inside, sinking into the plush twilight-hued seats, adorned with intricate pattrens that reflected the ever-shifting sky above. Elric settled across from her, his gaze distant, as if he could already see the horizon beyond.

  With a whispered incantation, Maia set the chariot in motion. The wheels lifted effortlessly from the ground, and with a smooth, almost weightless ascent, they soared into the sky. Below them, Lunareth Glade unfolded in a breathtaking cascade of color—rolling emerald hills, crystalline rivers winding like silver veins, and ancient trees whose golden leaves shimmered as if catching stray fragments of the the cosmos itself.

  Lyric watched, awed by the sheer vastness of their world.

  "Lyric," Maia began, her voice soft but serious, the kind of tone that meant she expected full attention. "I want you to tell about the significance of the Eclipse Heart. It is the mediator of balance in our world. Whenever danger threatens, it chooses those who are destined to protect our realm. These chosen ones are marked by fate."

  The chariot glided past a floating archway of crystalline vines, their tips dripping with liquid light. Lyric pulled her gaze away from the sight, her brows drawing together.

  "And it chose Sylvara Everbloom?" she asked, shifting slightly in her seat.

  "Yes," Maia confirmed. Her fingers hovered over the glowing control sigils of the chariot, but her gaze drifted elsewhere, lost in the past. "Sylvara was one of the most powerful fae in our history. Intelligent and wise, she understood the true meaning of her strength. She became one of the five protectors destined to safeguard our world from peril."

  Elric, sitting across from them, exhaled slowly, his fingers drumming against the ornate armrest. "Sentinel Emberwing is the only one who truly knows the protectors," he said at last, his voice carrying the weight of respect. "He is a revered figure in all communities, a wise dragon with an understanding of our realm that few possess. It is said that his bond with the Eclipse Heart runs deep, and he carries the knowledge of what it means to be a protector."

  Lyric's stomach tightened. She had heard stories of Sentinel Emberwing before—his name spoken in hushed, reverent tones. A guardian, a legend. Someone who had stood at the heart of history itself.

  She hesitated, then murmured, "How did she prove herself?" The question felt fragile, almost afraid to be spoken.

  "She faced great dangers," Elric replied, his voice steady, but beneath it lay something heavier, something old. "When darkness loomed over Zephyros, she and the other protectors gave up their lives to defend our world. Their bravery and sacrifice inspired many. That's why the elders want us to be present today. They believe the ceremony will honor their legacy and remind us all of the importance of our role in maintaining balance."

  The words settled deep in Lyric's chest, pressing against something raw. She turned her head slightly, watching the landscape blur beneath them. Somewhere below, entire cities continued their lives, unaware of the conversation taking place high above.

  The air changed as they neared Luminaries Sanctum, growing thicker with magic. The very atmosphere shimmered, woven with ethereal energy, as if the Sanctum itself existed between the folds of reality. Spires of translucent crystal emerged in the distance, their surfaces refracting light in impossible hues.

  Lyric's hands tightened into fists against her lap. Would she belong among those who carried such weight? Among powerful fae, esteemed elders, and warriors molded by fate?

  A faint tremor ran through her. The chariot carried her forward, unrelenting, toward something far greater than herself.

  She swallowed hard.

  There was no turning back.