LYRA

  Helpless, so painfully helpless. An overwhelming, suffocating feeling that clutched around one’s heart and squeezed. It could snatch your breath away faster than the wild flames of an endless inferno as far as the eye could see.

  A lingering smog of death fills her lungs in the moment she manages to free herself from the remains of a place she once considered her safe haven. Wood and stone melted down to ash and dust, barely even recognizable as a home anymore.

  Why…why did this…have to-

  ---

  Lyra could never forget it, the day of the Summer Solstice.

  The cat girl had gotten used to the event, as one does after so many years of it, but that never diminished the impact of it. While Lyra had never been too much of an extrovert, she had always participated in the events with her friends and especially to support Evander. This year the cat had heard through the grapevine that Evander would be performing by himself for the first time. She had faith in him, even if he always had his little ways of annoying her.

  “Dearie you should be getting ready, by now your friends are going to be left waiting for you.” Lyra’s grandmother sighs while watching her granddaughter flex her fingers in the cluttered space of her basement. The space had long since needed cleaning but her grandmother had been enlisting it to teach Lyra the ways of magic.

  Most would argue that magic requires an open space, a clear environment, and endless safeguards. While it was true that magic could go wrong at any turn, that was precisely why her grandmother chose such a dangerous space to work with, to stress the importance of getting your spells right. One poorly aimed Firebolt, a misspoken Invisibility, or potentially worse when you begin engaging in higher level magic. To call the responsibility daunting would be an understatement, yet Lyra was never dissuaded.

  In all her grandmother’s years, she’d scarcely seen a mage with as much pure talent and drive than her starry-eyed little kitten.

  “Hold on! Let me show you something!” Lyra excitedly squees, set to the side was both Lyra’s own spell book and her grandmother’s, the latter of which that she’s been peering into in her spare time outside of the lessons of her teacher. Though, she wouldn’t need either for this particular spell she had been practicing. She takes a deep breath, her ears flick up, magical energy runs through the tips of her fingers through the nerves all in her hands. It was begging for shape, for form, to be stretched and molded to the whims of Lyra’s will. Most Wizards utilized practiced, boring phrases for their spells, very textbook and rudimentary. Her grandmother had taught her that this was a poor way to execute spellcraft, or rather, it was limiting. If someone knows what you’re casting, they can react, and if you limit yourself then your spells become stale. So, while it was more complicated and difficult, Lyra preferred to get a little creative and fancy with it.

  “Brooms and buckets hear my tune, come and help me clean up this room!”

  With a sharp snap, the mana flowing in her hands expunged itself from her fingertips in the form of blueish green wisps of energy. In a flash, they flew around the room and buried themselves into different cleaning objects that Lyra had ensured were laid out for just this very purpose. For few a moments, it didn’t seem like anything had happened, until the assortment of wooden and metal objects began to tremble and sputter. They hopped up from their positions, buckets clanging as they jumped in a row, broom bristles stiffening once they straightened into attention as a group of soldiers might. A dustpan and duster managed to approach and salute Lyra, treating the cat girl as their new leader.

  Lyra brings her fingers to her lips and sharply whistles, sending the squad of animated tools off to work in removing the clutter and accumulated dust bunnies. The older cat woman chuckled in a mixture of amusement in bewilderment.

  “Didn’t I teach you this spell not one week ago?” Her grandmother grins with a proud warmth, “Yet here you are, already ordering the little gremlins around as if you’re a master.” The older woman approaches Lyra, her walking stick creaking against the floor. “Keep this up, and you’ll outpace me in no time.” Her wrinkled hand rests upon the top of Lyra’s head to pat her granddaughter. “But practicing magic on the Summer Solstice? Dearie, you can slings spells any day of the year, so please take this one to relax. You can’t be young forever.”

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  A doubtful look briefly appears on Lyra’s face before being swiftly met with a flick to the face by her grandmother.

  “None of those thoughts, immortality is a messy business. Don’t get involved.” Lyra had heard this warning from her grandmother more times than she could count. One of the big ‘don'ts’ of magic. Lyra didn’t understand what the big deal was, it’s not like she would actually choose to be immortal. She just wants to know the magic is all. Was it really so bad to want to know?

  “Fine fine, and I’ll go get ready in a second.” The cat girl relents, "It’s not like they see me almost every day or anything.”

  “You’ll miss it when you can’t.” Her grandmother remarks, briefly stepping aside so that Lyra can walk with her up the stairs, “I had so many friends at your age, now…well, now I’m just a boring old lady.”

  “Boring?! How can you say that Grammy? You’re the most interesting person I know!” Lyra’s tail begins to subtly sway from side to side, “You’ve told me way too many amazing stories to be boring.”

  Her grandmother snorts, “Those were ages ago, I don’t do much nowadays aside from run my little shop and teach some tricks from time to time.” The pair ascend past the stairs, entering into the small antique shop/home that Lyra’s grandmother ran. During the solstice, Lyra’s grandmother made sure to simply close the store and leave it at that, not that she would get much business on the day anyway. “Ah before you leave, let me give you some food for that tomcat I always see around. He’s grown attached to you hasn’t he?”

  “Tomcat? You mean Moon?” Lyra asks, “He’s just a stray.”

  “A stray you named.” Her grandmother points out.

  Lyra doesn’t have a retort for that outside of a relenting sigh, “I’ll take something to him if I see him.”

  “You will, I’m sure of it. He’ll need someone to comfort him through all of the noise.” Her grandmother begins to move towards the counter to grab some treats. However, a strange sound caused both Lyra and her grandmother to freeze up. A firework? The direction didn’t sound right…

  “Hey grandma, do you hear-” The cat girl’s hairs stand on end upon the booming sound of a sudden explosion. Explosion? Fire? What was that? Before she can react, another unfamiliar deafening sound had cut her off. Her heart began to race, the scent of burnt wood and flames entered her nostrils. Her sensitive ears picked up on heavy footsteps and piercing screams. Fear shot through Lyra’s body, something was wrong, so very wrong. “G-Grammy?”

  “Lyra, go to the basement.”

  “But-”

  “Now! Go to the basement and stay there.”

  The sternness that her grandmother barked with had completely caught Lyra off guard, she had never heard that kind of tone before. Although panic filled her bones, something compelled her to move. Was it her grandmother’s will? Or…a spell? Did she get commanded to move? It didn’t matter, Lyra was in no state to resist, so she swiftly did as she was told. She ran straight back down the wooden stairs, each one creaking under her weight. Her animated objects were still working as diligently as she had left them just a couple minutes ago, not reacting even slightly to her return. Lyra didn’t even have to turn to hear the basement hatch slam shut behind her, nor to hear the distinct chant of her grandmother casting some kind of spell. She didn’t listen, she could barely make it out over the horrendous sounds echoing outside. Lyra couldn’t see what was happening out there, all she had was her imagination to fill in the blanks of the terrified screeches and marching feet.

  The cat girl scrambled into the first corner she could reach through the mess and immediately crammed herself into as small of a form as possible. She brought her knees close to her chest and folded her ears down in a vain attempt to drown out the sound. Her body trembled, dread overtook her. She can’t quiet the noise, she can’t stop shaking, she can’t do anything.

  “SHUT UP!”

  Her hands clenched tightly, and without even realizing it, magical energy flowed from her body and out into the basement. Within seconds, there was no longer any sound, no noise, no screams. It was safe, this was her silent safe space. If she just stayed here, she would be safe, she would be safe from it all…

  ---

  Lyra didn’t remember falling asleep, she didn’t remember waking up, but now she was standing in the charred remains of what was once her place of learning, her grandmother’s place of home, her safe haven. Gone, obliterated in the blink of an eye, not even recognizable.

  In her hands, her grandmother’s spellbook, perfectly safe, as was Lyra. Yet, that was it.

  All around her was nothing but death and fiery destruction, the aftermath of a hellish attack Lyra only heard and never witnessed.

  At her feet laid many corpses, but there was only one she recognized. It wasn’t her friends, her mother, her grandma, or any of the typical townsfolk. No, instead, it was the burnt body of that precious little stray she had just complained about. Lifeless, gone, quiet.

  She collapsed to her knees, her hands slowly lifting the small creature and clutching it close to her body.

  Was she…alone? Was this it? Was she the only survivor?

  No…she can’t be alone, she can’t be alone…please…she can’t be alone…