The Ashes of Evermere
Chapter One: The Night the Sky Fell
The sky over Evermere had always been ordinary.
Blue in the morning. Gold at dusk. Ink-dark and scattered with stars at night.
Until the night it fell.
Seventeen-year-old Lyra Vale was awake when it happened. She often was. Sleep came lightly in a town pressed against the Blackthorn Mountains, where wind howled like something alive and the forest creaked with old secrets.
She was sitting by her bedroom window, sketching the peaks under moonlight, when the stars began to move.
At first, she thought it was a trick of tired eyes. The constellations shimmered, bending like reflections in disturbed water.
Then one star detached.
It streaked across the sky, brighter than any shooting star she had ever seen — white at its core, surrounded by a halo of blue flame.
Lyra stood so quickly her chair clattered to the floor.
The star wasn't falling away from Evermere.
It was falling toward it.
A roar cracked the air. Windows rattled. Dogs barked. Somewhere in town, someone screamed.
The sky split open.
There was no other way to describe it. A jagged fracture tore across the heavens, like glass under pressure. From within that glowing wound, shadows poured — twisting, writhing shapes like smoke given claws.
Lyra's breath caught in her throat.
This was not a storm.
This was not natural.
The falling star struck beyond the tree line, somewhere deep in the forest.
The impact shook the ground hard enough to knock her to her knees.
And then, silence.
A silence so complete it felt wrong.
The shadows vanished as quickly as they had appeared. The crack in the sky sealed itself, leaving only ordinary stars behind — calm, distant, uncaring.
But the forest beyond Evermere glowed faintly blue.
Lyra pressed her palm against the cold glass.
She didn't know why.
But she knew she had to go there.
---
By morning, the town buzzed with rumor.
"A meteor," said old Bram at the bakery.
"A weapon test from the capital," muttered the blacksmith.
"A sign," whispered the priest, pale as milk.
The mayor forbade anyone from entering the forest.
Which, to Lyra, sounded less like a warning and more like an invitation.
She had grown up beneath those trees. Her father had been a ranger before he vanished five years ago, swallowed by the Blackthorn wilderness without explanation. The forest did not frighten her.
What frightened her was the feeling that whatever fell last night had called to her.
After breakfast, she slipped away with a small pack — water flask, rope, her father's old compass.
The compass did not point north.
It never had.
Instead, its needle trembled as though alive, turning slowly toward the forest.
Toward the impact site.
Lyra hesitated only once — at the edge of town, where cobblestone met dirt path.
If her father were here, he would tell her to stay away.
But he wasn't here.
And she was tired of waiting for answers that never came.
So she stepped beneath the trees.
---
The Blackthorn Forest felt different.
Quieter.
No birds sang. No insects buzzed. Even the wind seemed reluctant to pass through.
The deeper she walked, the cooler the air became.
Then she saw it.
A clearing she had never seen before, carved violently from the earth. Trees lay splintered outward in a perfect circle, trunks blackened but not burned.
At the center was a crater.
And inside the crater — a shard.
It was not stone.
It was not metal.
It pulsed with soft blue light, veins of silver branching across its surface like lightning frozen in crystal.
Lyra slid down into the crater, heart pounding.
Up close, the shard hummed.
Not loudly.
But steadily.
As though it possessed a heartbeat.
She reached out.
The moment her fingers brushed its surface, the world fractured.
Images flooded her mind —
A towering city suspended in air.
Warriors cloaked in starlight battling creatures made of shadow.
A crown breaking.
A voice whispering:
Find the others.
Lyra jerked back, gasping.
The shard's glow intensified.
Then it lifted from the crater.
Just hovered there.
Waiting.
"This isn't real," she whispered.
But the shard drifted toward her — slow, deliberate — and pressed against her palm.
Instead of burning, it dissolved.
Light surged through her veins.
She screamed.
---
When she woke, she was lying at the bottom of the crater.
The shard was gone.
Her hand bore a mark now — thin silver lines branching from her wrist to her fingertips like frost patterns.
Above her, the sky darkened.
Not naturally.
But as though something enormous blocked the sun.
Lyra scrambled to her feet.
A shape descended from the clouds.
At first, she thought it was another falling star.
Then it unfurled wings.
Not feathered.
Not leathery.
Wings made of shifting midnight.
The creature landed at the crater's edge, tall as a house, body woven from darkness and faint starlight. Its eyes burned white.
It regarded her.
"You are not the one we expected," it said.
Its voice was not heard — it was felt.
Inside her skull.
Lyra's legs trembled. "I didn't expect you either."
The creature tilted its head slightly.
"Bold. Fragile. Human."
"Thanks."
Silence lingered between them.
"You carry a Fragment," it continued.
"I— I don't have anything."
"It is within you."
Lyra looked at the silver marks on her hand.
"What did you put inside me?"
"Not I."
The creature's wings rippled.
"You have awakened the Ember Shard. One of seven."
Her mind raced.
"Seven what?"
"Seven pieces of the Aether Crown."
The words meant nothing — and everything.
Images from the vision flashed again.
The floating city.
The shattered crown.
"The sky broke last night," Lyra said slowly.
"Yes."
"Because of this crown?"
"Yes."
"Great," she muttered.
The creature studied her.
"The Veil between realms weakens. The Crown once held balance. Now its fragments choose new vessels."
Lyra blinked. "Choose?"
"You were chosen."
"That seems like a mistake."
The creature's eyes brightened faintly.
"Perhaps."
Before she could argue, the forest shuddered.
From the shadows between trees, shapes emerged.
Low.
Crawling.
Wrong.
They resembled wolves, but their bodies flickered in and out of solidity, edges dissolving into smoke.
Their eyes glowed red.
"They have come," the winged being said.
"For what?"
"For you."
The first shadow-wolf lunged.
Lyra barely had time to scream.
The creature spread its wings, releasing a pulse of blinding light. Two wolves disintegrated instantly.
But more poured from the forest.
"There are too many," Lyra cried.
"Then stand," the being commanded.
"What?!"
"The Ember Shard answers will."
Another wolf leapt.
Instinct took over.
Lyra raised her marked hand.
Heat erupted through her veins — not painful, but fierce.
Flames burst outward.
Not ordinary fire.
Blue-white and sharp as glass.
The wolf dissolved midair.
Lyra stared at her hand in shock.
"I did that."
"Yes."
Three more charged.
She stepped forward this time.
The fire obeyed.
It arced and twisted like a living thing, striking shadows before they could reach her.
Within seconds, only drifting smoke remained.
Silence returned.
Her breath came fast.
The winged creature folded its vast wings.
"The Shard has bonded strongly."
Lyra swallowed.
"I almost died."
"Yes."
"That's not comforting."
"It is truth."
She laughed weakly.
"Who are you?"
"I am Vaelor. Sentinel of the Veil."
"Right. Of course you are."
Vaelor stepped closer, massive yet oddly graceful.
"You must leave this place. Others will sense the awakening."
"Others like…?"
"Those who wish the Crown restored."
"And those who do not."
Lyra glanced toward the path home.
"I didn't ask for this."
"No vessel ever does."
The words hit deeper than she expected.
She thought of her father.
Of unanswered questions.
Of years spent waiting.
"What happens if I refuse?" she asked quietly.
Vaelor's gaze softened — if such a being could soften.
"The Veil will fall."
"And?"
"And your world will not survive what crosses through."
Her chest tightened.
"So it's save the world or… don't."
"Yes."
She let out a long breath.
"Fantastic."
Vaelor extended one wing slightly.
"There are others who carry Fragments. You must find them."
"How?"
The old compass in her pocket vibrated.
She pulled it out.
The needle spun wildly — then steadied, pointing deeper into the mountains.
Vaelor nodded.
"The Shards call to one another."
Lyra stared at the dark peaks beyond the forest.
She had never traveled beyond Evermere.
Never fought shadow-wolves.
Never set anything on fire with her bare hands.
"I'm just a girl," she whispered.
Vaelor's eyes gleamed.
"No."
"You are a bearer of the Crown."
The weight of it settled on her shoulders.
Fear.
Excitement.
Purpose.
All tangled together.
From somewhere far above, thunder rolled — though the sky remained clear.
A warning.
Time was already running thin.
Lyra closed her fingers around the compass.
"When do we leave?"
Vaelor's wings unfurled fully, blotting out the light.
"Now."
And as the shadows between trees began to stir once more, Lyra Vale took her first step away from the only life she had ever known — and toward a destiny written in starlight and flame.
The mountains waited.
The sky, fragile as glass, watched.
And somewhere beyond the Veil, something ancient stirred, whispering her