Lyra Nocturne's life had always been quiet. The small village of Ashenwood sat on the edge of the forbidden forest, far from the bustling cities and noble courts. Her days were filled with chores, studying, and tending to her younger siblings.
But that morning, everything changed.
A scream tore through the trees, raw and desperate.
Lyra's stomach clenched as she ran toward the sound.
A shadowed creature lunged at a villager, eyes glowing red like molten embers.
Instinct took over. Lyra's hands shot out.
Her blood flared, a crimson glow spreading across her veins.
The monster froze, then screamed in agony as the air around her warped.
The villagers stared in shock. Her hands trembled, eyes wide as a strange, ancient mark burned across her wrist.
It was the mark of the Nocturne bloodline long thought extinct.
Before she could comprehend, dark figures descended from the forest. Clad in black armor, they moved with deadly precision. One stepped forward, eyes locked on her glowing mark.
"The cursed bloodline has returned," he said, voice cold and hard.
Lyra stumbled backward, heart pounding. "I… I don't know what you mean!"
"There is no home left for you," he said,
grabbing her arm.
"You must come with us."
The forest around them roared as magic flared. Smoke, fire, and shadows danced in chaotic fury. Lyra's life, once ordinary, was gone forever.
Lyra's hands still shook from the surge of power that had erupted earlier.
The mark on her wrist glowed faintly, like it had a life of its own. Her small village, once quiet and peaceful, was now scorched and silent, the smoke curling toward the morning sun.
Footsteps echoed behind her, sharp and deliberate. She spun around and froze. Figures emerged from the forest: tall, armored, moving as one.
Their eyes glowed faintly beneath their hoods.
"You must come with us," one stepped forward, voice low and steady, almost hypnotic. Lyra tried to step back, but her legs felt like lead. Her heart pounded violently.
"Wait! I didn't do anything wrong!" she cried.
"You awakened it," the man said. His eyes flicked to her glowing mark. "The forbidden bloodline. Your life… and the lives of others… are at stake."
Lyra's mind reeled. Bloodline? Forbidden? Her small life had never included magic, only chores and school, but now… everything was different.
Suddenly, the man gestured, and others drew shimmering chains of light.
They weren't ordinary chains they seemed alive, glowing and twisting in midair. Lyra barely dodged as the first chain shot past her shoulder.
Fear twisted her chest. She had no choice. With a trembling hand, she released a shadow blade she didn't know she could summon. It sliced through the first chain, sparks flying, then the air around her distorted slightly, an invisible force pushing back the armored men.
The leader froze.
"Impossible…" he whispered.
Her stomach churned.
What am I?
Before she could think, they grabbed her and lifted her into the air, the chains now glowing around her arms like restraints. Villagers peeked from their burned houses, eyes wide.
"Your destiny begins now," the leader said, voice colder than the wind.
As she was dragged out.
_____
Three days later.
Lyra stood at the gates of Ebonveil Academy.
The towering black walls stretched endlessly toward the sky, runes glowing faintly along their surface.
Lightning crackled above the massive iron gates.
Fear crawled through her veins.
Hundreds of teenagers stood beside her, their faces pale, tense, terrified.
"This place…" she whispered.
A boy beside her swallowed.
"They say half of the students die before graduation."
Her heart clenched.
The gates slowly creaked open.
A chilling aura washed over them.
"Welcome," a deep voice echoed, "to Ebonveil Academy."
The head instructor stepped forward, his presence suffocating.
"You are here because you possess potential."
A pause.
"Potential to become monsters."
Murmurs rippled through the crowd.
"You will train. You will bleed. You will kill."
His eyes burned.
"And many of you will die."
Lyra's hands trembled.
Her nightmare had only just begun.
Immediately, smoke appeared in the air, thick and swirling, a dense fog that seemed to consume the very space around her. Lyra's vision blurred as the acrid stench filled her nostrils, her heart hammering in her chest. The air grew heavy, suffocating, and the ground beneath her feet wobbled as though it were made of jelly.
Her head spun, the whispers of the other students fading as the world tilted sideways. Panic gripped her, and she struggled to take a deep breath, but the air was too thick. She felt the world slipping away from her.
Then, everything went black.