Lyra spun around and behold an old woman stood in front of her. She had silver hair hung loose around her shoulders. Her skin was pale like milk. But her eyes...
Her eyes were empty like white as though she was blind.
"Who are you?" Lyra's voice came out normal this time. Not that awful wailing. "How long have you been there?"
"Long enough." The woman smiled. "I heard your first prophecy scream. Felt it in my bones."
"My what?"
"That sound you made. When you tried to warn the merchant. That was a banshee's death wail."
Lyra stepped back. "How do you know that?"
"Because I'm like you, child." The woman's empty eyes somehow found Lyra's face. "I'm what you'll become with time and practice."
"You're a banshee too?"
"Was. Am. Will be." The woman laughed soft. "Time works different for us. What's your name?"
"Lyra. Lyra Soulrend, I think."
"Good name and a strong name at that. I'm Moira." She said as she walked closer. Her feet made no sound on the ground. "You're very new, aren't you?"
"I woke up tonight. In a tomb." Lyra's voice broke. "I don't understand what's happening to me."
"Come dear, let's get away from all this noise." Moira said as she gestured toward the burning city. "Death is loud tonight which makes it hard to think."
They walked into the forest together as Lyra kept looking at the old woman. She moved like she might disappear any second.
"Are you real?" Lyra asked.
"Real as you are." Moira said as she stopped next to a stream and sat down on a fallen log. "Which is more real than humans but less real than we used to be."
Lyra sat too. The log was cold under her legs. But not as cold as she expected. Nothing felt quite right anymore.
"I tried to eat earlier," Lyra said. "Found some berries but they turned to ash in my mouth."
"We don't need food now."
"Then what do we need?"
"Purpose." Moira said as her white eyes stared at nothing. "We exist because we have something to do. When that's finished..."
"What happens then?"
"We rest."
Lyra touched the water with her finger. It felt wet but not quite real. "I can see through my own hand." She held it up to the moonlight. "Am I dead?"
"You're between. Not alive like humans. Not dead like ghosts but something new."
"I don't want to be something new." Lyra said as tears streamed down her face. "I want to be normal."
"Normal girls don't come back from burning." Moira's voice was gentle but firm. "Normal girls don't curse entire bloodlines and make it stick."
The red words appeared:
EMOTIONAL DISTRESS DETECTED
BANSHEE ABILITIES UNSTABLE
RECOMMEND IMMEDIATE TRAINING
"Those words." Lyra pointed at them. "Do you see them?"
Moira tilted her head facing Lyra. "What words?"
"The red glowing ones. They tell me things. About death and missions and..."
"Ah." Moira nodded slow. "You have a system."
"A what?"
"A magical interface. It is very rare. Usually only for the most powerful reincarnated beings." Moira looked impressed. "What does it say?"
"That I'm supposed to kill the Ravencrest family."
"Good."
"Good?" Lyra stared at her. "How is that good?"
"They burned you. They burned others. They deserve to die."
"But killing people..." Lyra wrapped her arms around herself. "I was a healer before. I saved lives."
"That was before. This is now." Moira reached over and touched Lyra's hand. Her fingers were ice cold. "What do you feel when you think about Marcus Ravencrest?"
The name hit Lyra like a punch as rage exploded in her chest. Hot, bright and hungry.
"I want to hurt him." The words came out harsh. "I want to make him burn like he made me burn."
"Good. Hold onto that feeling, it would soon be needed."
"But he's dead. He died years ago."
"His family isn't dead." Moira said but her smile wasn't nice anymore. "His children, grandchildren. All the way down to now. They carry his blood. His guilt."
"It's not their fault what he did."
"Isn't it?" Moira said as she stood up. "The Ravencrest family still hunts our kind. Still burns witches. Still makes magic illegal."
Lyra thought about this. "They do?"
"Oh yes. Lord Marcus started something that never ended. His descendants keep it going. They're the reason supernatural beings hide in shadows. The reason children with magic are afraid to use it."
The rage in Lyra's chest grew hotter.
"They hurt innocent people?"
"Every day."
"Children?"
"Especially children."
Lyra's hands started to glow as blue light leaked from her skin. The temperature around them dropped.
"Easy, child." Moira didn't sound worried. "Feel the power but don't let it control you."
"How do I do that?"
"Practice. Like everything else."
Lyra took deep breaths as the glowing stopped. The cold went away.
"Better." Moira said as she sat back down. "Now try something simple. Make your hand solid."
"What?"
"Your hand. Right now it's between states. Solid enough to touch things but not quite real. Focus on making it completely solid."
Lyra stared at her hand. It looked normal but felt wrong. Like it belonged to someone else.
She thought about being solid, about her hands being real but nothing happened.
"I can't."
"Try thinking about something that made you feel solid when you were alive."
Lyra closed her eyes. Thought about healing people. About her hands glowing warm with magic as she fixed broken bones and cured fevers.
Her hand tingled as she opened her eyes. This time around it looked the same but felt different. More heavier.
She touched the log but her finger didn't sink in at all.
"I did it."
"Good. Now try the opposite. Make your hand able to pass through things."
This was harder. Lyra had to think about being a mist. Her hand went fuzzy around the edges as she pressed it against the log and it went right through.
"Amazing." She wiggled her fingers inside the wood. "I can control it."
"With practice, you'll be able to control your whole body. Walk through walls. Become invisible. Fly."
"Fly?"
"Banshees aren't bound by normal rules." Moira stood up again. "We exist in the space between life and death. We can do things living people can't."
Lyra made her hand solid again. This time around she touched her face, her hair. Everything felt more real now. "What else can I do?"
"Your wail can kill or warn. Your touch can drain life or give visions of death. You can speak to any spirit or ghost. And your prophecies..." Moira's white eyes gleamed. "Your prophecies are the most powerful gift of all."
"They hurt." Lyra rubbed her temples. "When I see someone's death, it feels like my head is splitting open."
"That will get better. And the knowledge is worth the pain."
The red words appeared again:
BASIC TRAINING COMPLETE
NEXT LESSON: COMBAT APPLICATIONS
WARNING: RAVENCREST FAMILY MEMBER DETECTED 2.3 MILES NORTHEAST
Lyra's heart jumped. "There's a Ravencrest nearby."
"Where?" Moira said as her body went very still.
"Northeast. About two miles." Lyra could feel it now. Like a pull in her chest. "The system is telling me."
"Good. Your first target."
"I'm not ready." Lyra said as her fear mixed with the rage. "I don't know how to fight. I don't know how to kill."
"You'll learn." Moira turned toward the northeast. "We all do."
"But what if I mess up? What if they escape?"
"They won't." Moira's smile was cold as winter. "I'll make sure of that."
"You'll help me?"
"Child, I've been waiting 300 years for you to wake up." Moira started walking. "I wouldn't miss this for the world."
Lyra followed her deeper into the forest. Toward her first target. Toward revenge.
But as they walked, one question burned in her mind.How did Moira know she'd been waiting 300 years? How did she know exactly when Lyra had died?