Lost in the deep void of nothingness, Lyra stood in her white nightgown. Her mind was muddled by the confusion of how she ended up here. The remnants she recalled were vague, like a veil clouding her understanding. Numbness enveloped her body, and the emptiness felt cold.
Peering into the nothingness, Lyra stretched her hands aimlessly, seeking anything to grasp in her surroundings. The beating of her heart echoed in the eerie silence. The deafening quiet unsettled her.
"Hello—?" Lyra called out, her voice desperate.
Uncomfortable with the emptiness, Lyra considered her nightmares more welcoming, knowing the outcome of waking up. She tried shutting her eyes, attempting to convince herself this was a dream and she would awaken.
Upon opening her eyes to find nothing changed, her heartbeat raced. Lyra wrestled with the dreadful feeling that she didn't want to believe.
"Am I dead? Is this what death feels like?" Lyra voiced out her thoughts. A shiver crawled up her spine. She had expected a heavenly light or the grim reaper to appear, providing solace in death. The chilling suspense in which she was trapped was beyond her understanding.
Lyra wandered, hugging herself as she grappled with the thought of coming to terms with the concept. While she didn't want to die, she also didn't believe the Creator would condemn her to the void.
Recalling the last moments before her demise, Lyra remembered talking to Troy. The vague images flashed in her mind, and his words about the prophecy echoed in her mind. Clutching her scalp, running her fingers through her hair, she tried to recall what happened next.
"Child of the Prophecy," a faint female voice called out to Lyra, ethereal and haunting.
Lyra stopped in her tracks, her eyes widening, spinning around, franticly searching for the source. To her disappointment, no one was there; she was alone.
"Is anyone there?" Lyra questioned, apprehensive if the voice was all in her mind.
"Child of the Prophecy…you shouldn't be here," the voice spoke solemnly. "It is not your time yet."
" What is this place?" Lyra demanded answers, her face hardening. However, the void responded in riddles.
"Time will flow, fate will entangle, and life…Child of Prophecy will hold the key," the voice reached behind Lyra's ear. Her body stiffened by the closeness of the breath tickling her neck.
"Leave this place…" the voice spoke with finality.
Lyra didn't understand the haunting voice's message before a burst of light blinded her, dispelling the darkness. She immediately covered her eyes by the blinding light and winced. When she opened them again, she found herself in an unfamiliar place.
Adjusting her vision, Lyra groaned. She was in a cave near a small bonfire, a black cloak draped over her. Confused and with a throbbing headache, she sat up, allowing the cloak that offered warmth to drape down her lap. Shocked, she realized her clothes were nearly in tatters and hastily covered herself with the cloak.
Beyond confused and embarrassed, she noticed this wasn't the prison cell or the torture chambers. Feeling a shiver from the wind flowing into the cave, Lyra pulled the cloak closer. Sunlight beamed at the cave's entrance, and she saw the vast, lush trees, bringing tears to her eyes. The austere scenery of nature, birds chirping, and broad daylight calmed her nerves, making her want to jump in the air and cry tears of joy.
The celebration was short-lived when a tall figure of a man stepped out of the thicket of trees and entered the cave. Lyra stiffened at the sight of him. She clenched the cloak closely to cover herself moderately. The man halted in his step across from her, noticing she was awake and frightened.
"You're awake," the man spoke; his voice was glacial and sharp.
Lyra, unfamiliar with the man, was trembling at the sudden appearance. Her eyes couldn't help but trail up the daunting figure draped in all-black attire. His sharp jaw and a strange scar on his left cheek led to sharp red eyes staring right back at her. Though the man was handsome, she wouldn't be fooled twice.
"Demon…" Lyra squeaked. She had the ill luck of landing herself in the clutches of yet another monster to torment her. Her heart hitched as the man's face hardened at her words. Did she insult him? She immediately shifted back as he took another step towards her, pressing against the cave wall.
"Demon?" the stranger scoffed, irritation in his voice. "Are you referring to yourself?"
Lyra didn't want to answer his question. She shot up, determined to flee from the strange man. Despite posing a brave front, her gaze not leaving him, her weak body staggered. She pressed her back to the cave wall, managing to steady herself.
The man took another step towards Lyra, who slid to the side of the wall, keeping her distance. She didn't understand how she was free or why the shackles that bit into her delicate skin were gone. Did he set her free? Or was this another one of Troy's vile plots of a sick fantasy? Her faith in anyone was over, and she could only trust herself.
Lyra's steps led her deeper into the cave while the daunting man continued in their little game of cat and mouse. There was a dangerous glint in his crimson eyes that made Lyra quiver. Her bare feet felt an edge behind, but her eyes never left him. His expression was cold, close to losing patience.
In the blink of an eye, the man was right in front of Lyra, his eyes boring into hers. He clutched a bundle of the cloak that covered her, leaning over to her side, whispering in her ear.
"You reek," he murmured, his breath gently tickling her neck. Lyra shuddered before processing the words; the man pushed her, and she slipped out of the fabric, falling into a pool of water. She swam up, gasping for air before glaring daggers at the man.
The man only returned Lyra's glare with a taunting smirk. He said nothing but only stared at her, making her uncomfortable. She quickly covered her breast with her arms as much as she could while sinking deeper into the cold water to hide her shame. After a long, awkward pause, he spoke in finality.
"Wash up, then get dressed."
Lyra's eyes widened in disbelief. He wasn't going to kill her? She had no choice and sighed in relief when he returned to the cave entrance, leaving her to her own devices. Eventually, her body adjusted to the cool temperatures, and she was relieved to clean off the grime and dried blood she was caked in.
The man returned with a new set of clothes, and Lyra mustered a small thank you. He remained silent, returning to the bonfire and giving her the privacy to dress. Unlike the lecherous demons back at the fortress, he was a strange demon, providing clothes and privacy. Lyra purged the horrifying memories from her thoughts, not wanting this moment of reprieve to disappear.
Once dressed, the clothes were loose and baggy for her small frame. She assumed it was the man's spare clothes he loaned to her. They smelled of sweat with a hint of mint, refreshing her senses. She made her way back to the entrance, where he stood by the fire. There were small arrangements of fruits that made her drool at the sight.
The man stared at Lyra, who still seemed apprehensive of the food he provided as she sat by the fire. He took an apple and examined it before taking a bite from it with a crunch, the juices spilling the corner of his lips. A loud growl emanated from Lyra's stomach, making her cheeks burn. She licked her lips as it was the first time she had seen such a delicacy in a long time.
"What do I call you?" the man spoke, his cold demeanor still icy, but his actions confused Lyra as he tossed another apple to her. She immediately caught it, polishing it with her sleeve before taking a small bite. The flavor exploded on her taste buds as the sweetness danced across her tongue. She scarfed it down quickly before taking another fruit he held.
"My name is Lyra," she answered, her voice softened at his gesture. Her defenses were still high, but learning to address one another wouldn't hurt.
"T-thank you for saving me," she added. Lyra didn't know what this situation was, but grateful. She could ask him for directions back to her village. She broke from her thoughts at his low chuckle that rumbled in his chest, uneasy by his reaction.
"Save you?" he drawled. "I think you're mistaken."
Lyra stiffened at his remark. With a swish of the man's hand, a black chain coiled around her chest out of thin air; her eyes widened in shock, dropping the remnant of the fruit she hadn't finished. She was bound in chains…Again!
"You demon! Did that bastard, Troy, put you up to this?!" she hissed, her eyes flared. She should've known better than to stay; she should've fled. The man glared at her, and she struck a nerve.
"I am no demon," he spoke. The air suddenly dropped as if winter had arrived early. The chains around Lyra tightened, trapping her arms in place. Her heart raced as the room grew cold.
"Then what do I call you then?" Lyra probed, her voice a little shaken, but her stubbornness kept her alive for so long. What more could she do? There was a long pause. The stranger was contemplating whether to answer her or not.
"Leo," he eventually answered.