She sat up with a gasp, eyes wide, the echo of a scream stuck in her throat.
Again, the nightmare had come. And like an illusion, it vanished just as easily. The only proof of its fleeting presence was the sweat clinging to her back and the heavy emotions clouding her morning mind.
This wasn't new. Lyra often had nightmares she couldn't remember. Over time, she'd come to suspect they were always the same. She always woke with the same feelings—dread, guilt, and sadness. But at what? About who? When, where? None of it ever remained.
"Lyra, dear, it's time to rise and get ready," a soft, smooth voice rang out.
Snapped from her futile quest to recall the dream, Lyra rose with a small smile.
After preparing for the day, she made her way into the kitchen, where an elderly woman moved gracefully about the small space. The cozy scene brought comfort, pushing aside her earlier distress.
"Good morning, Lyra. Would you be a dear and help me set the table?" the woman asked with a warm smile.
"Of course, Miss Everett," Lyra said, moving to set the small dining table.
"Look at you! We've lived together for over two months—you can call me Granny," Ethel lightly chided.
"Haha, okay… Granny," Lyra chuckled, enjoying the playful teasing.
As they sat down to breakfast, Ethel's tone shifted. "Remember, I told you about that school in Virginia? A friend's daughter works there. I invited her over next week to talk about you possibly joining."
Lyra froze. Uneasiness swept through her. In a small, vulnerable whisper, she asked, "Do I have to leave?"
This little house, on the edge of a quiet town, was all she'd ever known. It was her sanctuary.
Ethel rose from her seat and enveloped the fragile Lyra in a loving hug.
"I know you're scared, dear. But as much as these walls have kept you safe, they also keep you from growing. Out there, yes—you might find fear, hate, and loneliness. But you'll also find love, courage, and a place to belong," Ethel said, giving her a warm squeeze.
The day came faster than Lyra expected.
Around midday, a gentle knock interrupted the peaceful rhythm of lunch preparations.
"Oh, our guest must be here. Would you get the door while I finish up, dear?" Ethel asked.
Lyra nodded and approached the door. Just as her fingers brushed the handle, she paused. A wisp of unfamiliar magic hung in the air—foreign but gentle. She turned the knob and opened the door.
Standing there was a young woman with medium-length brown hair framing a kind face, a bright smile reaching her soft brown eyes.
"Hello, my name is Emma Tig. I'm looking for Ethel Everett—she should be expecting me," the woman said warmly.
"Hi. I'm Lyra," she replied with a nervous smile.
"Lyra, dear, let our guest in! Lunch is ready," Ethel called from the kitchen.
Snapping out of her daze, Lyra opened the door wider. "Sorry—please, come in."
Emma stepped inside, following Lyra into the cozy kitchen.
"Welcome, and thank you for coming, dear," Ethel greeted warmly.
For the next half hour, they enjoyed a light meal and cheerful conversation about Emma's mother and Ethel's youth.
Then, Ethel turned the topic gently. "As I mentioned in our letters, I'd like Lyra to attend your school. She's never had any formal education and, well… she's a powerful witch. I believe your school could truly help her."
"Absolutely," Emma said. "The Salvatore Boarding School for the Young & Gifted is a wonderful place for both magical and academic learning. She'd also benefit from being around others her age."
Emma continued, "I also spoke with Headmaster Saltzman. He agreed the school would welcome Lyra with open arms—his daughters are also students there too."
"That sounds wonderful. Lyra, why don't you go pack your things, dear, while I talk with Miss Tig?" Ethel said gently.
Lyra nodded and quietly left the kitchen. She didn't have many belongings. Just her clothes—and a tiny jar containing a single white lily, floating perfectly preserved in water, untouched by time.
As Lyra folded her clothes and placed them into a backpack, she let her memories of this place wash over her.
Back in the kitchen, Ethel's voice had shifted.
She began to explain to Emma how she found the teenage girl at the edge of the forest wearing a thin white dress and her body head to toe caked with dried blood and dirt. The girl knew nothing of her past, the memories blocked my something powerful.
"I know this might be unsettling to hear and her past is unknown but from my time with the girl I can confidently say that Lyra is a kind soul that wouldn't hurt anyone. She's is just a girl trying to find her own path to somewhere she belongs and to people who would cherish her as much as she would cherish them."
After hearing Ethel's story, Emma felt a growing trepidation about what the future might hold—but not once did the idea of abandoning young Lyra cross her mind. This, after all, was the purpose of the Salvatore School: to protect children like her and give them the tools they need to find their place in the world.
As the sun beat harshly overhead, Lyra sat quietly in the car, watching the familiar sanctuary she had come to love grow smaller and smaller in the side mirror.
The trip to the Salvatore School was long. It took Emma and Lyra nearly eight hours to drive south to Mystic Falls, with two quick stops along the way to grab food and give Emma a chance to rest before continuing the journey.
Having spent a few days with Lyra, Emma had come to see her as shy and reserved, but with brief glimpses of something much more. A bright, thoughtful girl lay just beneath the surface. It was in the way she listened with genuine focus, how she chose her words with care, and the little gestures—offering Emma water, insisting they take breaks so Emma wouldn't tire—that revealed the depth of her empathy.
Ethel had been right. Whatever pain or mystery Lyra carried with her didn't define her. Before Emma was a young girl simply trying to find her place in the world—and she deserved the chance to do just that.