The forest was quiet except for the crunch of leaves underfoot as Lyra, Eryon, and Misery pushed deeper into the wilds. The air was cold, their breath visible in the dim light of the early evening.
Misery walked a few paces ahead, her silver eyes scanning the trees for any sign of danger, while Eryon lingered close behind, his amber eyes distant and brooding.
Lyra adjusted the strap of her pack, trying to ignore the ache in her shoulders. She felt the weight shift oddly, something crinkling inside. Pausing, she opened the flap and reached in, her fingers brushing against rough parchment. Her brow furrowed as she pulled out a folded piece of paper.
“What’s that?” Eryon asked, his voice low but wary, his attention finally breaking from the horizon.
Lyra shook her head, unfolding the note. The familiar handwriting made her stomach drop. It was from the elders. She read the words aloud, her voice tight with disbelief:
“Lyra, beware of Misery. Her return is no coincidence. Sixteen years is too long, and she has spent that time in the hands of forces we cannot trust. Her vampiric blood makes her dangerous, and her motives may not be as pure as they seem. Eryon, in his grief and desperation, is susceptible to her influence. If she misleads you, it could doom us all. Keep your wits, and remember where your loyalty lies—with your family and the pack.”
The silence that followed was deafening. Lyra’s hands trembled as she folded the note and tucked it back into her pack.
Eryon’s jaw clenched, his fists tightening at his sides.
“They think I’m some fool who’ll be seduced by her blood,” he growled. His voice carried a deep frustration that seemed to shake the trees around them. “They think I don’t see the risks.”
Lyra hesitated before speaking, choosing her words carefully.
“It’s not just about you, Eryon. They’re afraid of her, of what she represents. Misery has been gone for so long, and they’re struggling to trust her.”
Eryon stopped walking and turned to face Lyra, his amber eyes burning.
“Do you trust her?” he asked pointedly.
Lyra glanced ahead at Misery, who was still scanning the path ahead, oblivious to their conversation.
“I don’t know,” she admitted. “I think she’s a mother desperate to find her child. But I also know what desperation can do to people. It makes them dangerous.”
Eryon’s gaze softened slightly, though the tension in his shoulders didn’t ease. “She’s not dangerous to me. I’d know if she were lying.”
Lyra nodded slowly, but her grip on her pack tightened. The elders’ words lingered in her mind, gnawing at the edges of her resolve.
“Let’s just stay vigilant,” she said finally. “For all of our sakes.”