Eira's eyelids fluttered open. A comforting warmth wrapped around her body. It felt very different from the icy cold she remembered last. A fire made soft cracking sounds and moved like it was dancing in the fireplace. The moving light made shadows that went up and down on the rough walls of the small room. Thick blankets, made of wool that felt a little rough but strong, covered her. They helped the cold feeling leave her bones.
A soft, heavy pain was in her head. It felt like something inside was trying hard to come out of her memory, but it couldn't. Just then, the door opened quietly, and a person came into the room. His movements were slow and careful. His old hands reached out to help Eira sit up. A look of pain quickly showed on her pale face.
He spoke in a language she did not understand at first. But as he said the words, it felt like a song inside her. It helped her remember something she had forgotten. The language felt old and familiar, like a friend she had not seen for a long time. It felt good to hear it again.
"Eira," he said with a rough voice that showed he cared, "what is wrong? Does your head still hurt a lot?"
Eira. That was the name she used when she tried to get her book published. But why did this old man call her that? She was not famous enough for someone like him, a stranger to her, to know her pen name. She could not remember his face clearly. His features seemed to disappear in her unclear memories.
"Who are you?" she asked with a very soft voice. "And why… why do you call me Eira?"
His eyebrows moved down, showing he was worried. "What is it, my dear Eira? Has the sickness taken away even the memory of my face? It is I, Flewick. But most people here know me as Old Flewick."
"Old Flewick," she said, her voice becoming a little stronger, "you have not told me how I got here. What… what happened to me?"
Old Flewick took a deep, tired breath. His hand, which felt rough, gently touched her hair near her head. "It is a long and sad story, Eira. You were… lost to us. For months, we looked everywhere for you. Our hearts were full of fear that we would never see you again."
Eira's eyebrows moved down in confusion. "But…"
"But… why did I become lost? And why is my mind empty, with no memories?"
Old Flewick paused. A look of not wanting to say something crossed his old face before he spoke. "Perhaps… perhaps the journey was too hard for you, making you very tired. Rest now, Eira. Sleep often helps what being awake cannot. And when you are stronger, your parents can tell you more about these lost memories."
Eira took a quick, sharp breath. It made a sudden pain shoot through her head. "Parents…?" she repeated with a very soft voice. "Who are these parents you speak of? I cannot remember their faces or their voices either."
Old Flewick shook his head slowly. His lips closed tightly in a sigh that seemed to carry sadness, like the sad look in his old eyes. "It seems the darkness has taken more than we thought. Rest here now, child. I will go quickly to your home and bring them to you. Do not worry your mind anymore; let sleep help you."
He smiled at her warmly and gently. The lines around his eyes became deeper with a kindness that seemed to calm her worries. "Just remember this, Eira: you are safe inside this house. That is all that matters for now."
As he left quietly, the warmth from the fire stayed in the room. It felt like his kind words in the empty places of her memories. The questions in her mind moved around like smoke from a fire that was going out. They left behind a small feeling of mystery and worry.
Who is this Eira?
Where in the world… or beyond… is this place?
And these 'parents'… strangers who say they know a life I cannot remember?
The answers were like shadows that move in the moonlight. They were just out of reach of her broken memory, waiting for a time when she could understand.
The sky at the end of the day looked bruised. Long, thin shadows stretched across the snowy land. A couple, their bodies showing they were worried, came to Old Flewick's small house. A feeling of quiet desperation seemed to stay near them. Their faces were pale and showed the sharp lines of worry and a deep sadness of wanting something they had lost.
A woman, her face looking old from much sadness, quickly came into the small room where Eira lay. Her face was wet with tears and showed strong feelings of pain and relief. She held Eira closely with a fierce but gentle touch. It showed how much she loved her and how much she had lost. Her loud crying sounds filled the quiet room.
Eira looked with confusion towards the door. A man stood there. His wide shoulders looked bent down, as if he was carrying a heavy weight of sadness that no one could see. Quiet tears went down his old cheeks as he held Old Flewick's hand very tightly with thankfulness. A deep feeling of relief covered his face, showing thanks he could not speak for his child coming back. He quickly wiped away the tears that now mixed relief with sadness on his face. His sleeve felt rough against his strong feelings.
"Thank you, dear Flewick," the man said with a voice that sounded like he was choking with tears. "You have brought our Eira back to us. We will always be thankful for what you have done."
Old Flewick's face had lines that showed he was wise and had seen much. He gave the man a soft, knowing smile. "Gregor," he said with a low voice that was gentle, "if Mary was still alive, she would be the same age as Eira. In my heart, I think of her as my own. And Ann," he added, turning to the woman who was still holding Eira tightly, "hold her a little less tightly, dear Ann. See how the color has left her face."
Ann's tears still went down her cheeks like rain after summer. She slowly moved away and gave Eira a shaky but gentle smile. "Forgive me, my sweet Eira," she whispered. Her voice felt warm like a mother's love, and it felt like a forgotten song in Eira's confused heart. "The days became weeks, and we were afraid… we were afraid the silence meant you were gone from us forever."
At that moment, many broken memories, sharp and confusing, crashed into Eira's mind. Each piece was a painful look into a life that felt strange but also a little familiar. She saw quick pictures: a young woman with her head held high, her eyes burning with a strong feeling that had sadly made her not see the bad things around her. She saw the pain of being betrayed, the deep hurt of a broken heart, the desperate running away from her warm home that had ended so sadly.
The memories became clearer. They showed Eira's young anger and sadness after her parents said no to her marrying the nice merchant's son, Alex. She did not know that Alex was not a good person under his nice looks. The cruel truth was that he was already going to marry another woman. So, she went against her parents' wise words. Her thinking was clouded by a strong, new feeling of love. The beautiful dream she had believed in broke against the hard edges of a sad reality. Alex, without his nice looks, showed he only cared about his own wants. His sweet promises of love and a life together were just empty words. He used them to trick a young, innocent woman who wanted love very much. The strong bad feelings of being betrayed and very sad ate at her heart. They finally made her, broken and feeling small, go back to the family she had left so strongly. But it seemed fate had a worse plan for her. Very tired and with a broken heart, Eira became weak from hunger and cold. Her fragile life ended before she could reach the safe and warm place of her family's love.
Strong, real feelings went through Eira, like a painful echo of the young woman whose memories were now inside her. She felt the sharp pain of Eira's sadness, the heavy weight of her young regrets pressing down on her own confused soul. Tears went down Eira's face, like a cleaning rain washing away the lonely feeling of Lyra and the new sadness of Eira's sad end. It left behind a small hope for things to become right, a quiet promise to honor the life she now lived without knowing why.
Eira looked at the couple in front of her. Their faces showed a love and a wanting so strong it felt like a forgotten song inside her. Without thinking, she held Ann back. The unexpected warmth of the woman's strong love felt like a sudden, soft help against the storm of feelings still inside her.
"Father…?" she whispered. The strange word caught in her throat, full of sadness and a new feeling of belonging.
"Mother… Oh, Mother. I… I am so sorry. I did not even know I missed you until this moment."
Gregor, with new tears coming to his eyes, quickly moved forward to hold both Ann and Eira in a strong, safe hug. "Welcome home, my lost Eira," he said softly. His voice showed his relief and the weight of years of love he had not spoken and forgiveness he now gave.
Eira closed her eyes. The feeling of their hug was like a safe place, a soft help against the sad feelings still inside her. She knew, with a sure feeling deep inside, that the time ahead would be long and hard, full of the shadows of the past and not knowing what the future held. But for the first time in what felt like a very long time, she knew she was not alone. She had a family, a reason to be in this confusing world, and a chance, scary but also exciting, to change the end of a life that had ended too soon.
Although the sad memory of Eira's regrets still stayed near her thoughts, it now had a small but strong hope mixed in. Because in the deep sadness of Eira, Lyra had found something very precious: a love that could go beyond time and maybe, even fix the broken pieces of a heart. And as she held onto the warmth of that new love, a quiet sure feeling came to her: she would never face the darkness alone again.
The young woman named Eira was gone. Her story seemed to have ended. But in Eira's place, Lyra promised to live this borrowed life well, trying to honor the great love these sad parents had for their lost child. After all, the feeling of Lyra now lived inside Eira's body, two souls joined by a strange twist of fate. From that moment on, Lyra promised to care for this unexpected life, mixing the broken memories of both Lyra and the past Eira into the story of her new life, held by the strong love of her new family.
A week had passed since Eira came back to the warm love of her family's home. Her eyes moved slowly across the wide, snowy fields. The cold winter land stretched out endlessly beyond her window.
Since her mind had somehow started living in Eira's body, Lyra had begun the slow, confusing process of accepting this strange world. It was also a little familiar. The Glacia Kingdom looked exactly as she had written about it in her lost book. It felt like her soul had always belonged in this cold place. This thought made her smile a little sadly.
Impossible, she thought quietly, a soft laugh that showed she did not believe it. Two Lyras cannot live in the same reality.
From the first moment she was really awake, she was amazed at how easily Gregor and Ann used magic for their everyday jobs. But the memories of Eira using magic like her parents were completely gone from her mind. The next morning, she decided to ask about this strange missing part.
"Why is it," she began, her voice showing she was really curious, "that I cannot seem to use the magic that comes so easily to you both? Why can't I make spells like you do?"
Gregor's eyes moved away. He suddenly looked at something she could not see behind her. Old Flewick's earlier words about her memory loss – because of a very bad shock that left empty spaces in her mind – seemed to hang in the quiet air of the room. For Gregor and Ann, the wonderful thing was that Eira was back and not hurt. As long as she was breathing and whole, they seemed completely relieved.
"Magic… it is not always a simple thing, Eira," Gregor said slowly, his eyes still not looking at her. "Some people are born with a natural ability, a smooth connection. But others… they have a harder path."
A sharp, uneasy feeling tightened in Eira's chest. "So… in my past life… I was a failure in this too? Wasn't I?"
Gregor sighed. The sound was heavy with a tiredness that felt older than just now. "Magic comes from the very center of a person, Eira. And sometimes… for reasons we cannot understand… it just stays hidden. Trying to force it will only fight back."
Ann held Eira in a warm, comforting hug. Her voice was like a bright song against Gregor's quiet worry. "Don't let your heart be sad, my dear. Learning magic needs time, patience, and being willing to listen to its soft sounds. Your way may take time, but who knows what wonderful things are waiting for our Eira? Maybe you are meant for great things we cannot see yet."
A sweet thought, Eira thought with a small, sad smile inside. But my past with both love and magic shows I don't have much luck with either.
Eira guessed, putting together the broken pieces of Eira's past, that the person who lived in this body before might have tried very hard to find comfort from her feeling of not being good at magic in the short love of someone like Alex. He sounds very much like the worst kind of charming bad person I knew in my own past, Lyra thought quietly. May our paths never cross in this new story, she thought with a quiet, strong wish. Good riddance to such bad people.
Eira looked at Ann and Gregor. A new understanding came to her eyes. "So," she said softly, "my… my not being able to use magic caused you both much sadness, didn't it?"
Gregor and Ann looked quickly at each other. Gregor gave Ann a small look that said they needed to do something, or else their daughter's sadness could become worse again.
That night, as the shadows in the room became long, Ann came into Eira's room. She was holding a wooden box that looked old but was kept very carefully. A soft, almost respectful smile touched Ann's lips as she placed the box gently in Eira's open hands.
"My dearest Eira," Ann began. Her voice was like a soft song with a little sadness in it. "I have something that belongs to you, something that has been loved in our family for many years. I believe the time has come for you to take its place."
With fingers that shook a little, Eira lifted the top of the box. Inside was a piece of jewelry that seemed to shine with light from inside, as if it had just been made by a very skilled person. It was shaped like a delicate snowflake, made of white gold that shone. Thin lines of pure silver went through it, looking like small, frozen rivers under its smooth surface. The edges had small, beautiful carvings that looked like frost crystals. Each one had tiny marks that seemed to hold old, unknown magic, like the writings of a forgotten power. A strong but very mysterious feeling came from this beautiful piece, like a quiet sound of hidden energy.
In the center of the snowflake was a small crystal with many sides. It was as clear as ice from a glacier but had a beautiful light inside that shone with the softest colors of blue like ice and purple like the evening sky.
"Thank you, Mother," Eira whispered. Her fingers softly touched the cool surface of the pendant. It feels like an old, important object… Could this be the family's hidden treasure? "But… are you sure it is alright for me to accept such a precious gift?"
Ann's smile gave off warmth. Her eyes shone like faraway stars. "Of course, my dear Eira. I know it will look beautiful on you. An old woman like myself does not need such beautiful things anymore. I have had my share of bright moments," Ann said softly, her voice becoming a secret whisper, "think of it as a real blessing, a charm to keep away bad things."
Eira's heart felt full of love. She accepted the pendant. As she held it in her hand, a strong feeling of familiarity, old and strange, came over her. The beautiful snowflake design seemed to beat softly with a small, almost not noticeable energy. Then, a sound like a ghost, a memory that had been sleeping for a long time inside the pendant, started to wake up – a quick piece from a forgotten time, carrying the soft sound of a voice humming from somewhere unknown.
Wear it, Aethel, and be the light. Remind them that even in the deepest winter's night, the truest warmth comes from shared stories, burdens carried together, and dreams that connect.
Eira's eyebrows moved down. The strange name echoed quietly in her mind. Aethel…? Where have I heard that name before? She looked at Ann, whose gentle smile stayed on her face. She did not seem to hear the voice. So, the voice… it spoke only to me. Why? What is the meaning of Aethel?
From that moment on, Eira carefully started to put together the broken memories inside the original Eira's mind. She was helped by the small but lasting memories of Lyra's own past. A cold, almost unbelievable truth started to become clear inside her: she had somehow come, or maybe been brought, into the very world she had carefully made in her first, lost book. She had written it when she was only ten years old – the book that had been burned in the terrible fire at the orphanage.
A cold feeling went down Eira's back at this impossible discovery. The small, snowy village she now called home, inside the borders of the Glacia Kingdom, was just a small part, a single, lonely story in a big and possibly dangerous adventure. A world that had come from her own young imagination. Beyond its seemingly safe place were dangers she could not imagine, shadows that were much bigger than her young thoughts, showing a complicated world she had never thought of.
Many years had passed in her own real life since she had first written the beginnings of this world. But inside its frozen borders, time seemed to have stopped, except for the strange and worrying absence of the summoners she had once imagined.
Eira sighed quietly inside. She remembered the confused and slightly laughing looks she had gotten when she carefully asked about the summoners. They even laughed… laughed at the very idea.
Yet, even in the worrying shadows of the unknown, a small, fragile comfort stayed with her. As long as she stayed within the familiar, though now strangely real, borders of the Glacia Kingdom, a deep feeling told her she would be safe.
The deeper secrets of this world and the mysterious questions moving around inside her own joined soul would stay hidden for now. But a strong, determined spark shone in the depths of Eira's eyes.
She had stumbled into a real, living story, much bigger and more detailed than anything her young writing had ever created, a world full of real magic and amazing wonder. A story she now had to figure out, one dangerous part at a time.
The sleepy writer's feeling inside her woke up with a mix of fear and excitement. It wanted to take in the strong feelings that moved through this living story, to find the hidden parts that stretched before her like a map she had never seen. A determined smile touched Eira's lips as she looked at the beautiful snowflake pendant. The cool metal felt like a real connection to this amazing world she had written herself. A world she would now have to explore, not as the person who made it up, but as a confused person living in it, her own story happening one dangerous page at a time.
That name… Aethel… It feels deeply familiar, like something I have almost forgotten. It was my mother's family name… back in Lyra's life. The pendant has been quiet since that soft name was spoken, a mystery staying close to its icy sides.
Undoubtedly, this world came from the pages of my first, lost story. Perhaps… perhaps finding the hidden meanings inside those old memories is the key to living in this confusing place… perhaps even to staying alive.