Zarekth’s gaze was unwavering, cold and detached as Lyra’s words hung in the air. The weight of his skepticism pressed down on her, making her feel as though the very concept of friendship was somehow trivial, unworthy of his understanding. His expression remained impassive, and for a brief moment, Lyra felt the sting of his indifference.“Your friends?” he echoed, his voice laced with disdain, as if the idea was beneath him.Lyra’s frustration surged. She stood straighter, trying to push back against the god’s towering presence. “Yes, my friends,” she repeated, sharper now, anger flaring in her chest. “We were exploring some ancient ruins for a history project. None of us were trying to summon gods or meddle with forces we didn’t understand. We were just—” She hesitated as the memory of the storm returned to her mind ever so vividly. "A storm occurred," she managed to say, although the peg of her voice quivered as that image played out in her mind.“The ruins started collapsing.
꧁༒☬𝓟𝓻𝓸𝓵𝓸𝓰𝓾𝓮☬༒꧂In ancient times, before the dawn of mortals’ remembrance, the first gods sprung forth from the primordial void. These divine entities, born from the very essence of creation, wielded powers over the Cosmos itself, shaping worlds to their whim. Among them was Aureon, the god of light and justice, whose radiant brilliance cast a luminescent glow across the vast realms. The gods, seeking more than just creation, devised something delicate to sculpt according to their likeness. Thus, they fashioned mortals—an experiment in life that would live, love, and perish in their mortal existence. From this divine experiment, was born Nerathia, a realm where gods and mortals coexisted together. Aureon and his kindred gods bestowed upon Nerathia their gifts: light, wisdom, protection, and change.In Nerathia, order held dominion, though precariously, for where light shone, shadows also grew. From the unchartered territories of the cosmos, the ancient and dark Umbravus emerg
꧁༒☬𝓟𝓻𝓮𝓼𝓮𝓷𝓽 𝓭𝓪𝔂☬༒꧂The hacking shrill, relentless frenzied alarm from Lyra's room pierced early morning silence as if fingernails were being dragged down a chalkboard. It filled the room with that unmistakable sound of dread as it woke her from the bottom of her sleep into unwanted consciousness. Groaning, she fumbled for the snooze button, blind to shed herself from the warmth cocooning her beneath the blankets. The soft embrace of her bed was holding her tightly and didn't want to let her go, luring her into stealing at least some minutes more of the valuable sleep.But reality had other plans. Today was the first day of her final year at Evervale University. The weight of the realization hit her hard. She felt terrible. Of course, Ivy wouldn’t let her hear the end of it if they were late for class.As if on cue, Ivy’s voice cut through the apartment, sharp with annoyance. “Lyra! We’re going to be late!”There was a gentle clanging of pots and pans from the kitchen and a ra
The autumn chill wrapped itself around the Evervale campus, crisp and biting, as Lyra Donovan walked alongside her friends. Ivy’s laughter rang out in the cool air, echoing off the brick buildings that had stood the test of time. Though familiar, the atmosphere carried an energy, a charge, as if the start of their final year was heralding something new, something about to shift.Clusters of students buzzed around them, engaged in animated conversations about summer adventures or already lamenting the workload ahead. Skateboarders zipped by, expertly dodging a group of wide-eyed first-years who huddled together, trying to make sense of the campus map clenched in their hands.Lyra glanced sideways at Ivy and Harrison. Ivy’s arm was looped around his, her auburn hair bouncing with every step, while Harrison looked at her the way only someone madly in love could—like she was the center of his universe. They were that couple. The ones everyone admired, sometimes envied. High school sweethe
The hallway was gently buzzing with the low hum of talking students, soft thud of closed books, and footsteps echoing against the old tiled floor. There was something about this building, reeking with a feel of being from another era. Or, perhaps, the walls panelled in ancient wood, with dusty portraits lining every corridor of professors long forgotten, their eyes seeming so very stern, far away, and passing in silent judgment on the present.Ivy shivered, hugging her cardigan closer as she walked beside Lyra. "Ugh, I wish we could skip this class," she muttered. Ivy was worn out, and it showed in the lacing of tiredness within her voice. Surprisingly warm October weather outside hadn't stopped the chill of autumn from seeping into the building. "I'm already tired from the first class of the day. A nap sounds perfect right about now.”Rhett, striding ahead of them with his usual relaxed swagger, ran a hand through his dark hair. “We’re already here,” he pointed out, his tone resigned
The cafeteria was filled with the regular lunchtime excitement—students talking, trays being moved, and the smell of fatty French fries and suspicious pizza in the air. At the regular table, Lyra leaned into her chair, listening to Harrison going on about the history project with some of her attention while she looked around the busy cafeteria.The conversations around them blended into a dull hum, the world moving on blissfully unaware of the forty-percent history project looming over their heads.“Why couldn’t we have gone for something normal?” Lyra asked, interrupting Harrison’s passionate monologue about Nerathia’s forgotten gods. “You know, like Greek mythology? Zeus, Athena… all that Mount Olympus stuff. Everyone knows it, and we could probably churn out a paper on Zeus’ love life in our sleep.”Harrison’s eyes gleamed with that familiar light—the one he always got when he was about to dive into an explanation none of them had asked for. He rested his elbows on the table, his g
The wind howled through the night, whipping through the trees like a feral thing, its chill biting through even the thick layers of Lyra’s jacket. She zipped it up tighter, fingers brushing against the delicate tattoo on her wrist, the one that read “Lyra” in elegant, black ink. A small reminder of who she was, especially in moments like this when nothing seemed certain.She gazed out the window, watching the darkened shapes of trees blur by. The distant glow of Evervale was a memory behind them now, the town’s lights barely visible through the thickening clouds. The night had that sharp, biting cold only autumn could bring, and Lyra silently thanked herself for wearing the thick jacket and boots. The last thing she needed was to be underdressed for an ill-advised adventure into a restricted ruin.Her absent-minded fingers had pulled her sun kissed brown hair into a ponytail, attempting to keep it from whipping into her face. The wind had other ideas, though, and no matter how tightl
They stood at the threshold of the ruin where fragments of what had once been a towering structure now lay in crumbled heaps, overtaken by wild shrubs and moss. The air was colder here, sharper, as if the ruin itself carried the chill of its ancient past. Lyra instinctively pulled her jacket tighter around her body, trying to fend off the cold that bit through to her bones.Rhett, standing next to her, seemed unaffected by the wind. At six feet three, he loomed tall against the darkening sky, his broad frame almost motionless despite the gusts. Harrison, looking somewhat impatient as he bounced on the balls of his feet, his hands stuffed into the pockets. He surveyed the wreck excitedly, almost oblivious to the cold breeze that was blowing around.“Where’s the crew?” Lyra’s voice barely carried over the wind.Harrison shrugged, his gaze fixed on the ominous stone structure ahead. “Packed up for the night, probably,” he replied. “Not like they’re expecting company out here anyway.”R