Lyra's POV
The servant is lying to my face, and she doesn't even know I can tell.
Fresh soup, Miss Lyra, she says, setting down the tray with shaking hands. Made this morning, just for you.
Violins fill my ears. Soft and sweet, like a lullaby. The soup is three days old, reheated until the vegetables turned to mush. But I don't correct her. I never do.
Thank you, I say quietly.
She hurries out, probably relieved to escape. Everyone's afraid of me. The girl who hears lies. The freak who ruined lives with a single word.
I push the soup away and pick up the letter on my table. Heavy paper. Gold seal. The kind of official document that changes everything.
SUMMONS TO DIVINE COURTJudge Lyra Caine will preside over the trial of Kairos, God of Time, accused of murdering Fate herself.Trial begins at dawn.
My hands tremble. A god. They want me to judge a god.
I've judged hundreds of people before. Thieves who swore they were innocent heard flutes. Politicians who promised to help the poor I heard harps. Even a woman who claimed she loved her husband I heard an entire orchestra.
Everyone lies. It's just what people do.
But a god? Gods are supposed to be different. Powerful. Truthful.
And this isn't just any god. Kairos killed Fate. Without Fate, the universe is breaking. People are born without destinies. Prophecies fail. Reality itself is coming apart at the seams.
If I mess this up, everything ends.
No pressure.
I stand and walk to the window. Outside, the Celestial Council's tower glows against the night sky. Stars that don't exist in the mortal world shine too bright, too close. I've lived here for sixteen years, and it still doesn't feel like home.
Nothing has felt like home since
No. Don't think about that.
But the memories come anyway, the way they always do when I'm alone.
I was seven years old when everything changed.
Mayor Hendricks stood in the village square, promising everyone lower taxes. The crowd cheered. My parents smiled. But I heard something else.
Music.
Beautiful, soaring music, like a symphony. It poured from the mayor's mouth with every word. I didn't understand why, but it hurt my ears. Made my head pound.
Mama, I whispered, tugging her dress. He's singing.
Shh, Lyra. The mayor's speaking.
But he's singing. Can't you hear it?
My mother looked down at me, confused. My father frowned.
The mayor kept talking. The music got louder. I pressed my hands over my ears and screamed.
Everything stopped. Everyone stared.
What's wrong with your daughter? Mayor Hendricks demanded.
I don't know, I My father looked panicked.
He's lying! I shouted, pointing at the mayor. Everything he says is a lie! Can't you hear the music?
The crowd went silent. Then someone laughed. Then everyone laughed.
The child has an imagination, the mayor said, smiling. But his smile looked wrong. Scared.
That night, men in white robes came to our house. They wore the symbol of the Celestial Council a golden scale surrounded by stars.
Your daughter has a gift, the tall one said. A curse, really. She hears lies as music. It's extremely rare. Valuable.
My parents looked at each other. My father's face went pale.
We'd like to take her, the man continued. Train her. She could serve the Council, help bring justice to the world. And in return... He placed a bag on the table. It clinked with the sound of gold. Your family would be well compensated.
I didn't understand what compensated meant. But I understood the look my parents exchanged.
Lyra, sweetheart, my mother said, kneeling down. Her voice was gentle. Kind. These nice men are going to take you somewhere special. You'll learn wonderful things. And we'll visit you soon. I promise.
Music exploded in my ears. Guitars, drums, wind chimes the most beautiful sound I'd ever heard.
She was lying.
I started crying. Mama, no
It's for the best, my father said, not meeting my eyes. More music, softer this time. Like a sad melody.
The men in white robes took my hands. I screamed for my parents, but they just stood there, holding their bag of gold.
I never saw them again.
A knock on my door yanks me back to the present.
Come in, I call.
Theron enters without waiting for permission. He never does. Tall, handsome, with perfectly styled blonde hair and the kind of smile that makes people trust him.
I learned a long time ago not to trust that smile.
Lyra! He grins like we're old friends. Big day tomorrow. Excited?
Terrified, I say honestly.
Don't be. You'll do great. Just like always. He sits on my bed without being invited. This trial is going to make you famous. Everyone in every realm will know your name. Judge Lyra, the girl who brought down a god.
Harps. Beautiful, flowing harps, like water over smooth stones.
He's lying.
What do you want, Theron? I ask tiredly.
His smile doesn't falter. Just wanted to check on my favorite truth-seeker. Make sure you're ready.
I'm ready.
Good. He stands, adjusting his Council robes. After this trial, everything changes. You'll finally be free. We both will be. We can leave this place, start fresh somewhere new. Just like we always talked about.
The harps swell into a full orchestra. Every single word is a lie.
We never talked about leaving together. We haven't been friends since we were kids, since he got promoted and I stayed a tool. And there's no freedom waiting for me after this trial.
But I nod anyway. That sounds nice.
Theron touches my shoulder. Get some rest. Tomorrow, you change the world.
He leaves, closing the door softly behind him.
I sink onto my bed, exhausted. The letter sits on my table, mocking me with its gold seal.
Judge a god. Save the universe. Do your job.
I close my eyes, wishing for the one thing I never get.
Silence.
Just once, I want to hear nothing. No music. No lies. Just truth, pure and simple.
But truth is the one thing my curse won't let me hear.
I drift toward sleep, my mind finally going quiet
Then I hear it.
A voice. Not in my room. Inside my head.
Tomorrow, you'll meet me, Lyra. And when you do, you'll hear something you've never heard before.
The voice is deep. Ancient. Powerful.
You'll hear silence. And it will terrify you.
My eyes snap open. My heart races.
Who? How?
But the voice is gone, leaving only one question burning in my mind:
What kind of god can speak directly into my thoughts?