Lyara
It wasn't a myth, nor a tavern tale. Kingdoms kept records, scholars wrote treatises, relics were sold for fortunes. Still, for almost everyone, magic was like a shooting star. You knew it existed. It just never came close. For every thousand people, perhaps one would be born with something awakened. And even among those few, many never learned to control. Power slept crookedly, unstable, too dangerous. Therefore, children with strange signs rarely had kind destinies. They became a study. Fear. Or they disappeared. She was almost one of them. She was left as a baby at the door of a stone orphanage, one cold morning, wrapped in white fabric that was too thin for someone ordinary. No letter. No last name. Just a symbol embroidered in silver, complex like a magic circle, that no one could identify. The nuns said that every child deserved at least one name. After a whole night of debating, they chose a simple one. Soft. "Lyra."
About Lyara
It wasn't a myth, nor a tavern tale. Kingdoms kept records, scholars wrote treatises, relics were sold for fortunes. Still, for almost everyone, magic was like a shooting star. You knew it existed. It just never came close. For every thousand people, perhaps one would be born with something awakened. And even among those few, many never learned ...Read more