The dense forest finally relented, giving way to a jagged cliffside where the ground leveled into a hidden hollow. Smoke curled lazily from makeshift chimneys, carrying the scent of herbs, wood, and something faintly metallic. Lyra squinted through the gathering dusk, taking in the strange settlement.
"This… this is Havenrock?" she asked, voice barely above a whisper.
Liam's gaze swept the encampment with quiet pride. "Not much, but it's safe. Mostly. It's a place for castaways. For those the world decided weren't worth keeping."
Havenrock was a jumble of huts and tents, held together with wood, rope, and stubborn hope. A narrow, cobbled path ran through the center, illuminated by lanterns that glimmered with faint, unnatural light. Figures moved among the huts some humanoid, some decidedly not. Their eyes flicked toward Lyra, curious, calculating, and for a few moments, she felt their scrutiny like a physical weight.
A soft voice broke the silence. "Lyra?"
Lyra turned to see a young woman stepping forward. Her hair fell in chestnut waves, her smile gentle and unassuming. Her eyes glimmered with warmth a rare thing in this hollow of outcasts.
"I'm Lissa," the girl said. "You must be new."
Lyra nodded, still unsure. "I… I'm Lyra. I was… brought here by Liam."
"Of course," Lissa replied with a reassuring tilt of her head. "Come, everyone's curious to meet you." She led Lyra to a circle of logs arranged around a fire. The flames flickered, casting long, dancing shadows on the surrounding cliffs.
Around the fire were other castaways. A wiry man with crooked teeth and jittery movements watched her keenly. "So… you used magic," he said suddenly, voice quivering. "What did it feel like?"
Lyra swallowed hard. The memory of that raw, surging power clawed at her chest. "It… it was like fire and ice at once. Like something inside me woke up, but I couldn't control it. It was… terrifying."
A soft laugh interrupted her, light and melodic. Lissa moved closer, resting a hand on Lyra's shoulder. "Magic chooses its moment," she said. "It comes alive when the situation demands it, when survival or emotion forces it out. Don't worry if it doesn't happen again immediately."
Lyra frowned, uncertainty gnawing at her. "But… why can't I make it happen again? I need to… I need to control it."
A low, mischievous laugh rang out from the shadows. Sha sha emerged, her presence impossible to ignore. A bastard-born vampire, her movements were elegant, almost theatrical, each step deliberate. Her eyes glinted like polished onyx. She leaned lazily on her cane and tilted her head.
"Maybe it's an emergency response," she said, voice dripping amusement. "Maybe it only appears when you're about to die, or when the universe thinks you're amusing enough to deserve a show. Or… we could help you remember."
Lyra's stomach tightened. "Help me… how?"
Sha sha's grin widened. "Oh, simple. We'll throw you off a cliff. If you survive… magic will return. Guaranteed. Possibly."
The camp erupted into laughter. Even Liam's lips twitched at the absurdity, though he didn't smile outright.
"Ignore her," Lissa said, rolling her eyes but smiling softly. "Sasha enjoys theatrics more than life itself. Magic isn't something you force. Sometimes it comes, sometimes it doesn't, and panicking won't make it appear faster."
Lyra took a shaky breath, letting the warmth of Lissa's presence settle her nerves. Around the fire, she noticed more castaways:
Karo, the wiry man who asked about her magic, perched on a log with an intensity that suggested he never missed a detail.
Mira, a pale, quiet girl who kept to the edge of the circle, her eyes gleaming faintly red in the firelight, the unmistakable mark of a vampire of lesser lineage.
Torren, a massive, wolfish hybrid, teeth bared in a half-grin, half-snarl, but clearly protective of anyone new.
The camp was alive with murmurs, laughter, and the occasional bickering. Despite the darkness around them, the energy of survival, unity, and defiance throbbed through the hollow.
"So… Lyra," Lissa said gently, nudging her with an elbow. "Tell us what it felt like. Really. Don't hold back."
Lyra hesitated, then let the memory pour out the fire that scorched her veins, the shadows that recoiled at her presence, the terrifying exhilaration that made her feel… unstoppable and utterly powerless at the same time.
The group listened in silence, the fire crackling as though it, too, were attentive. Even Sha sha's usual grin softened slightly, replaced by a rare flicker of curiosity.
"Emergency magic, huh?" Karo muttered. "Maybe it's like a reflex. Only appears when you're pushed to the edge."
"Or maybe," Sha sha said with a dramatic flourish, "it's shy. Like a cat. Can't be tamed. Must be cajoled. Or thrown off cliffs."
The camp laughed again. Lyra's lips twitched despite herself, the tension in her chest easing just a little.
For the first time since the shadows had followed her from her old life, Lyra felt… almost at home.
And yet, as the firelight danced on the cliffs and the wind whispered through the trees, a subtle unease lingered, a reminder that power wild, untamed, dangerous was only the beginning.