The chimes led me to the abandoned district.
School was a blur of fluorescent lights and dull algebra, but the shadowy hawk flickered at the edges of my vision every time I passed a window. By the final bell, my need to escape the city's concrete heart became unbearable.
The abandoned district was perfect for hiding something: forgotten, silent, broken.
I found the source in the basement of a crumbling theatre. The air smelled like copper and old silk. The silver sound wasn't a bell—it was a man's voice.
He sat in the center of the room, illuminated by a single shaft of light slicing through the ceiling. His presence was both breathtaking and terrifying.
He was Kael Serathiel. His dark hair shimmered like midnight, his eyes glacial ice. His aura crushed the air. I instinctively knew he had walked the world for centuries.
"It took you long enough, little star," he murmured, his voice the silver chime I'd been hearing.
I froze. "W-who are you?"
"The one who called you. The one who needs you," he said, a slow smile curving his lips. "And the one who will refine you."
Behind him, three figures in ill-fitting security uniforms lurked. To me, their true forms were skeletal shadows, the hawk-figures I'd seen last night made flesh and bone.
"They've been chasing your light, Lyra," Kael said, almost bored. "Hoping to destroy it before it reaches me."
One lunged toward me. My scream tore out—not sound, but heat. White energy flared from me, a concussive force. The pipe the shadow carried warped, the husks dissolved into gray dust.
Kael's glacial eyes widened. A predatory smile returned. "Dramatic. Convenient. Now, you owe me a debt."