The world was silent for a moment—just a heartbeat of stillness—as my name rang out across the crowd. Lyra Solen. The sound of it echoed in my head, distorting reality for a split second. There was a moment of disbelief, like I was standing on the edge of a precipice, knowing I would fall but unsure when.
The whispers of the crowd surged around me like a distant tide. Lyra Solen, they murmured. The last contestant from a forgotten village—the girl who had no family but a prophecy.
I couldn't breathe.
My legs felt like they were made of stone as I forced myself to stand. I tried to steady my thoughts, but they were scattered—like leaves in the wind. The air, thick with tension, seemed to press down on me, tightening my chest, making it hard to think or speak. It was as if every single eye in the kingdom had turned toward me in that one moment, expecting something.
The other contestants were finished, their voices lingering in the air like delicate notes of a melody that could never quite reach its climax. Seraphina, the noblewoman with the golden curls, had performed first, and her voice was everything I had feared it would be—flawless, an instrument of power. Her notes had cascaded like golden waterfalls, and the crowd had gone wild in approval.
But it wasn't just her voice. It was her presence—the confidence that swirled around her like an aura, as if she already knew she would win. I had seen it in the way she held herself onstage, the way her eyes glinted when she smiled. I couldn't help but wonder if the prophecy had chosen her, too.
But then… what about me? What about my voice?
The moment I stepped forward, I felt a ripple in the air—a subtle shift, but it was there, unmistakable. It was the pulse of something old and sleeping, something waiting to be stirred. It was as if the very land beneath my feet recognized my presence. I couldn't explain it, but I knew in that moment that it wasn't just my voice that mattered. It was something far greater.
The stage seemed larger now, the ground beneath my feet unsteady as I made my way toward the center. The sunlight that bathed the square turned strange, almost too bright, and the shadows seemed to lengthen unnaturally around me. My heart pounded in my chest, and I struggled to swallow. The crowd's eyes bore down on me, but all I could hear was the faint whisper of the prophecy in my mind: The wrong voice will shatter the world.
I didn't understand it. I wasn't the one they were waiting for. I couldn't be.
I was only Lyra Solen, a girl from a village no one had ever heard of, brought here by chance, by fate, by a prophecy that had taken root in me like a seed planted in soil too deep to be uprooted.
I felt the weight of that seed inside me, growing heavier with each step I took, pulling me closer to an unknown future. I wanted to turn around and run back to the safety of my aunt, the safety of the life I had known. But instead, I kept walking toward the judges, toward the unknown.
As I approached the center of the stage, I could feel the strange energy swirling around me, the magic in the air thick and unyielding. I saw the Queen's gaze, sharp and unyielding, fixed on me like a hawk on its prey. Her eyes seemed to pierce through the air, through the very fabric of the space between us. There was no warmth in her stare, no kindness—only the weight of centuries pressing down on me.
The crowd hushed, and the entire world seemed to pause, holding its breath as I stood there, at the edge of destiny.
The herald raised his hand, his voice booming across the square. "Lyra Solen, of the village of Solen, step forward."
I took one final breath, then opened my mouth, prepared to sing.
---
The first note slipped out like a whisper, fragile and uncertain.
At once, I felt the magic in the air pulse, the stage vibrating beneath my feet. It was as though the land itself was waking up, stretching from a deep slumber. I wasn't sure if anyone else could feel it, but I could. The air around me buzzed with energy, like the crackling of a fire.
I hesitated, the fear rising in my chest, but then I sang again. This time, the note was stronger, more confident, resonating with something ancient, something that felt as though it was beyond me.
I didn't know why, but I let the song take me. It was as if my voice wasn't mine anymore, as if I were singing not just for the kingdom, not just for the Queen, but for the very land itself.
The sound filled the square, filling every crevice of the town square, spilling into the streets, the alleys, even the hearts of those in the crowd. It echoed in my chest, in my bones. I could feel the magic awakening inside of me, but it was both beautiful and terrifying.
But then, as my voice reached its peak, I faltered.
A sudden chill coursed through the air, and the light above me seemed to flicker. The crowd stirred in confusion, and the judges' faces remained unreadable.
It was only then that I realized something was wrong.
The song... the magic... it wasn't perfect. I had reached for something too vast, too deep, and now I could feel it slipping away from me, like a dream fading when you wake up. My voice cracked.
The sound I had conjured hung in the air, unfinished. The magical pulse that had risen began to waver and fade, like a distant star losing its glow. I froze.
A murmur of disappointment rippled through the crowd.
I felt my chest tighten with fear and humiliation. My body screamed at me to flee, to run back to the shadows where I belonged.
But I couldn't. Not anymore.
---
From the corner of my eye, I saw Seraphina's smile—a small, knowing thing. She had watched me with those calculating green eyes, and I knew she had already decided who would win.
The silence stretched on, suffocating. And then, before I could speak, before I could apologize for my failure, the Queen raised her hand.
The air stilled.
Her voice was low but filled with an authority that made the ground beneath my feet tremble. "Enough."
The Queen's gaze remained fixed on me, and I had no idea whether she was displeased or simply indifferent. I couldn't read her. But I could feel it—the weight of her eyes on me, watching, measuring, assessing.
"You have shown us your voice," she said slowly, the silence that followed making her words seem to echo like a bell. "But there is something more than your voice that you must prove, Lyra Solen."
My heart raced again. Something more? What could be more than my voice?
The Queen's lips curled into a subtle, unreadable smile. "The prophecy has awakened," she said, her eyes still locked on mine. "But not in the way we expected."
---
The crowd held its breath. I didn't know whether it was fear, anticipation, or something else entirely that hung in the air.
I could only stand there, helpless, as I felt the weight of the prophecy fall upon me—something much larger than the contest itself. Something beyond the voice.
Something that had already begun to stir.
The silence that followed the Queen's words stretched on like a thick, suffocating fog, and I stood there, frozen in place. My mind raced to catch up, to make sense of what had just happened. The prophecy, she said. The prophecy has awakened. But... it hadn't been my voice. It couldn't have been.
I could hear the whispers from the crowd growing louder, curling around me like tendrils of doubt.
"Did you hear that?" someone muttered, their voice shaking with excitement or fear. "What does it mean?"
"Did she—did she do something wrong?" another voice asked, tinged with disbelief. "Is she even qualified?"
I wanted to sink into the ground, to disappear. But my legs refused to move. The weight of the Queen's gaze held me in place like a spell.
And then, her voice cut through the murmurs. "This trial is far from over," she declared. "But I will not have a mere song determine the fate of the kingdom. This contest will reveal more than just the one with the most beautiful voice." Her voice hardened as she looked over the contestants. "It will reveal the true queen. Only then will this kingdom awaken from its slumber."
My breath hitched. What did she mean? Awaken? The kingdom had been asleep? Was she speaking metaphorically, or was there something else—something far more sinister—at play here?
The Queen's gaze flicked to each contestant, but I felt the weight of her stare linger on me a moment longer. Her eyes narrowed, calculating. The world around me seemed to grow even quieter, the anticipation thick in the air.
Then, in a voice that rang with finality, she continued, "The Trials of Voice will now shift. All of you must prove something far more critical than your vocal prowess. You must prove your worth to this kingdom—not with your voice, but with your heart."
I swallowed, the words spinning in my mind like a whirlwind. The kingdom must awaken. Not with your voice, but with your heart. The words seemed to pulse, echoing through me. Was this truly about a voice? Or was it something deeper? Something more… ancient?
"Begin the next trial!" the Queen commanded, turning sharply away from the stage, and the sound of her heels clicking on the stone echoed like the ticking of a clock. The crowd rustled with a mix of confusion and curiosity.
The herald, still standing by the platform, raised his staff high. "The trials are changing," he proclaimed, his voice deep and unwavering. "Each contestant must now prove their inner strength. To reveal your true nature. To see who is worthy of the kingdom's crown."
My pulse quickened. What did that mean? Prove your inner strength? I had no idea what was expected of me now, and the growing unease within me tightened like a noose.
The first trial had been the voice. But now, it seemed it would be something entirely different.
I stole a glance at the other contestants. Seraphina, the golden-haired noblewoman, was already standing with her back straight, her lips pressed into a tight, confident smile. She didn't seem fazed at all. Her posture was impeccable, as though this new trial was simply another step on her path to victory.
The other girls had varying degrees of concern etched across their faces, though some masked it better than others. I recognized a few from the crowd—girls from other villages, some of noble birth, others with no titles to speak of. They all had their own air of mystery, their own quiet power that radiated from them like a second skin.
My own heart beat wildly as I turned toward the judges. They remained silent, their veils of gold hiding their expressions. Their gazes, however, were intense, fixed on us with a look of deep scrutiny.
I tried to focus, but the weight of the prophecy continued to press on me. The wrong voice would shatter the world. What did it mean? What if I was the wrong one? What if my voice wasn't enough? I had no magical abilities. I wasn't noble. I wasn't anyone of significance.
I wasn't supposed to be here.
A sudden flash of movement drew my attention.
I looked up and saw the herald stepping toward us, his staff tapping against the stone ground with a rhythmic sound. "The trials will now begin. Each contestant will face a test of their heart. You will be tested by your deepest fears. You will be forced to confront the parts of yourself that you keep hidden."
I blinked. "Fears?" I whispered under my breath, barely believing what I was hearing.
"The fears of the heart," the herald continued, his voice cold and distant, "can be more dangerous than any physical threat. What you face will not be what others see. It will be the truth of your soul."
Before I could fully process his words, he raised his staff once more, and the ground beneath my feet trembled. A crackling sound filled the air, and a shimmering portal began to open before us, a swirling vortex of light and shadow.
The crowd gasped, and I stumbled back, my breath coming in short, uneven gasps.
One by one, the other contestants stepped forward, each called by name. They didn't hesitate. Their faces were expressions of determination, each preparing themselves for whatever awaited on the other side of that portal.
And then, my name was called again.
"Lyra Solen," the herald intoned.
I wanted to freeze. To stand there, to refuse. But my body moved before my mind could catch up. I stepped toward the portal, every muscle tense with fear and anticipation. I could feel my pulse in my throat, in my ears, in the tips of my fingers.
I could see the others before me, their eyes bright with a mixture of nerves and resolve. They were about to face their deepest fears, their darkest truths. What would mine be?
I stepped through the portal, and the world around me twisted and bent.
---
When my feet finally touched solid ground again, I found myself in an unfamiliar place. The sky above was dark, heavy with swirling clouds that seemed to press down on the landscape like a weight. The air was thick, and the ground beneath me felt soft, like I was walking through fog.
A voice echoed in the distance, calling my name.
"Lyra…"
I turned sharply, my heart leaping into my throat. The sound was familiar, but the voice was wrong—twisted. It wasn't just the air that felt suffocating now. It was the very earth beneath me, as if the land itself were breathing.
I took a cautious step forward, the hairs on my neck rising. A figure emerged from the mist, a shape cloaked in shadow. It was a woman—no, my aunt—but her features were wrong. Her eyes, once warm and kind, were now cold and empty, like hollow glass.
"Come closer, Lyra," the figure beckoned, her voice now sweet, almost syrupy. "I've been waiting for you."
My legs faltered beneath me as a rush of panic filled my chest. No. This couldn't be real. This wasn't my aunt. It couldn't be.
I backed away, but she advanced, her movements slow and deliberate.
"You have to understand, Lyra," she said softly, her voice no longer familiar. "You were never meant to be the one. I was. All of this, everything, is because of me. The prophecy, the crown... it's all for me."
I shook my head, stepping backward, my breath coming in short bursts. The mist swirled around me, tightening like a noose, and I could feel my heart pounding louder, faster, as if trying to escape the tightening grip around my chest.
"No," I whispered. "You're not my aunt. You're not… you."
But the figure only smiled, her lips curling into a sinister grin.
"You've always been in my shadow, Lyra. Always. And now, you're about to fall beneath it."