Lyra waited until the house settled into an uneasy quiet.
Claudia's murmured paranoia faded.
Kira's footsteps retreated into her room.
Mr. Vance pretended to work in his study, though she sensed his mind wasn't on the screen.
Only then did Lyra sit before her drawer.
Slowly.
Deliberately.
She pulled out the worn leather journal—
the one Mira left behind, hidden beneath the floorboard in her mother's old box.
Her fingers hovered over the cover.
The pendant warmed instantly, like it recognized the book.
Lyra exhaled and opened it.
The first few pages were familiar—Mira's sketches, notes, gentle words written as if she knew Lyra would someday read them.
But tonight…
something was different.
The pendant pulsed, and the ink on the page seemed to shimmer faintly, as if tugged into clarity by her awakening power.
The next page contained words she hadn't seen before.
Had they been invisible in her first life?
Or had her powers simply not been strong enough?
She leaned closer.
Mira's handwriting was shaky.
Faded.
Trembling.
"Lyra… if you are reading this, it means you have found the pendant."
Lyra's breath caught.
She touched the page lightly, and it warmed beneath her fingertips.
"This world is not what it seems."
"You are not what you seem."
Lyra's pulse quickened.
"There are forces that will search for you—
not because of who you are,
but because of what you carry."
The pendant flared, bright enough to glow beneath her shirt.
Forces?
Who?
What was she carrying?
The journal's next lines looked hurried, the stroke uneven as if Mira wrote them while running.
"The pendant is your anchor.
The next piece will find you when you are ready.
When your strength matches your blood."
Lyra frowned.
"Blood?"
As if answering, the pendant let out a soft hum that vibrated into her skin.
A warmth—protective, guiding, ancient.
She turned the page, heart tight.
The writing became even more frantic.
"Trust your instincts.
They will sharpen.
You will feel things you cannot explain.
Do not ignore them."
Lyra swallowed.
She had felt things.
The flicker at the café.
The energy shift by the window.
The ripple by the door.
She thought it was her imagination.
Her power disagreed.
She continued reading.
"There will be a time when you must choose who to trust.
Not everyone who reaches for you deserves to hold you."
Lyra's fingers curled around the journal.
Her mind drifted to the Vance house—
to Claudia's trembling fingers,
Mr. Vance's calculating glances,
Kira's burning jealousy.
Trust?
She trusted none of them.
The pendant pulsed once, approving.
Lyra turned the page again—
and froze.
The next line was smeared, as if something wet had dragged across it.
But she could still make out fragments.
"…if he finds out…"
"…stay far from…"
The rest was illegible, torn at the edge.
Lyra's brow furrowed.
"He?"
Who was he?
Her heartbeat quickened—until her pendant warmed again, calming her gently.
Not yet.
She wasn't meant to know that name now.
The journal's final words on the page steadied her breath.
"Lyra, my light…"
"You were born with more strength than you know."
"Do not let them take what is yours."
"This time… win."
Lyra closed her eyes.
For the first time since returning to this life, she felt something ache deep in her chest.
Not fear.
Not anger.
Longing.
For her mother's voice.
Her mother's warmth.
Her mother's truth.
She pressed the journal to her heart.
"I'll win," she whispered.
The pendant glowed gently, as if answering her oath.
A quiet knock sounded at her door.
Lyra straightened instantly.
"Kira?" she called.
No response.
"Claudia?"
Silence.
Another soft knock.
But this one wasn't human.
Her senses tingled.
Energy brushed against her awareness—
a ripple, faint and brief, like the world breathing against her ear.
She opened the door slowly.
Nothing was there.
Just the empty hallway.
Quiet.
Still.
Cold.
Lyra closed the door again.
Her hand tightened on the pendant.
She wasn't alone in this world anymore.
Not the way she had been in her first life.
Something was awakening inside her.
Something was watching over her.
Something was guiding her path forward.
She glanced at the journal once more.
The words seemed to echo inside her mind:
"This time… win."
Lyra whispered back—
"I will."