Yun | Lyra

Our family’s carriage dropped me off a few minutes before the appointed time. The clothes I was wearing made me feel incredibly awkward. I wasn’t used to the stiff fabric, but I did my best to act natural as I walked toward the entryway. A man in a crisp suit welcomed me in and guided me to the garden, where I ran into Asa.

In contrast to me, Asa wore his outfit like it was second nature. I’d been told to mind my manners, but Asa grabbed me by the hand and dragged me around, showing me the place.

It was beautiful. The garden felt like a park unto itself. Dozens of maids in neat uniforms tended to the party setup while the adults gathered nearby, sipping fancy wine.

“Yun, quick—this way!” Asa called. I followed along.

“Asa, no running!” one of the maids scolded as we sped past.

We rounded a few corners, passed through the garden and into the courtyard, eventually arriving at a building that looked like it was used for training.

“Check this out,” Asa said.

As we stepped inside, I saw dozens of different types of swords and other weapons hanging from the walls.

“Wahhh.” I wasn’t even sure what kind of sound escaped my mouth—each blade looked like a work of art.

“Cool, huh?” Asa smirked.

As I admired the swords, my eyes drifted to the mural on the far wall. It showed the seven gods in chains, their heads bowed. A winged figure stood in front of them, watching. I couldn’t tell if he was their judge or their executioner. The whole thing made my skin crawl.

“What is that?” I asked.

“Dunno,” Asa replied, then quickly changed the subject. “Wanna spar?”

I let the question go and nodded. “Where are the practice swords?”

“Don’t need them. We can use these,” he said, pointing at the actual weapons on the wall.

“Asa, I think we’d get in troubl—” I didn’t finish.

Just then, a tall man with broad shoulders and neatly combed golden hair stepped into the room. His coat was deep crimson, lined with gold thread, and his voice carried the kind of calm power that made you stand up a little straighter.

“Asa, so this is where you ran off to—oh? And who’s this?” His eyes landed on me.

I swallowed and quickly bowed, trying to remember everything my aunt drilled into me before we left.

“I am Yun of the Daisar household. It’s an honor to be invited to this occasion, sir.”

He let out a warm laugh, low and booming. “Asa, your friend has better manners than you.”

Asa gave a sheepish grin and scratched the back of his head. “He’s been trained well.”

“I can see that,” the man said, smiling at me now. “I’m Hannes Valen. On behalf of my son, I’m glad you accepted the invitation.”

He glanced toward the tall windows that overlooked the garden.

“Lyra is down below helping with the final preparations,” he added, now addressing both of us. “You two should head down and join her before the other guests arrive. And Asa—try not to sneak any sweets this time.”

“Can’t promise that,” Asa said under his breath with a grin, already turning for the hall.

I followed, a little stiff, still feeling the weight of Asa’s dad’s gaze as we stepped out.

Walking back, I couldn’t help but notice how clean everything was. Every plant in the garden had been trimmed to just the right size, and the paths were made of the same bright white marble as the rest of the estate. It all looked too perfect.

From off to the side, I heard a few snide comments directed at me—noble kids, a bit older than us. Their voices weren’t loud, but they made sure I heard.

Asa leaned in and said quietly, “Yun, pay them no mind.”

We kept walking toward the amphitheater, where the magic show was being held. A white stage sat nestled beneath a massive half-dome. Tiered stone steps curved around it, already filling with guests. Above us, gold chandeliers hung between the marble columns, catching the last of the sunlight.

And then I saw her.

Lyra.

Her golden hair shimmered in the evening light. Her skin looked smooth—porcelain, almost. She sat with perfect posture and an expression that said she’d rather be anywhere else.

Asa waved. “Lyra! You remember Yun, right?”

She finally looked up, her eyes flicking to me like I was some minor inconvenience.

“Yes. The sword boy, right?”

I stepped forward and bowed slightly. “I’m Yun, a friend of your brother’s. I appreciate the kindness of your invitation.”

She sighed. “Spare me the token platitudes. You're here because Asa brought you.”

That stung. I clenched my jaw, this wasn’t just about me—I didn’t want to embarrass my uncle either.

“I brought you a gift—”

She cut me off. “Leave it with one of the maids. They’ll have it delivered to my bedchamber.”

“Hey, Lyra,” Asa said, his voice sharper now. “Knock it off. Yun’s trying to be nice to you.”

She sighed, clearly unimpressed. “If you insist.”

I reached into my pocket and pulled out the small box my aunt helped me prepare the night before. I stepped forward and held it out to her.

“Happy birthday,” I said.

She took the box without a word and opened it. Inside was a gold necklace, set with a green stone in the center. She glanced at it—brief, calculating.

Lyra’s fingers brushed the edge of the necklace. For a moment, she didn’t say anything.

Then:

“It’s a bit simple,” she said flatly. “But… not ugly.”

She closed the box with a quiet snap and handed it off to a maid without even looking.

I stared at the space where the gift had been. I wasn’t looking for an exaggerated “thank you”— I just didn’t expect that kind of silence. Not even fake politeness. Just cold dismissal.

Asa gave her a sharp look. “Seriously?”

Lyra stood, smoothing her skirt like she hadn’t heard him. “Come. The performance is about to start.”

She turned on her heel and walked toward the front row. Her attendants followed. The maid carrying the box didn’t look at me either.

Asa let out a breath. “Don’t take it personally. That’s just how she is in public. Like she’s onstage all the time.”

“I’m not upset,” I lied.

Asa raised an eyebrow.

“I mean—she’s not wrong. I was only invited because of you.”

“Doesn’t make it okay.”

We climbed a few steps and found seats a few rows up from the front. The whole half-dome stretched over the stage like the inside of a massive shell, warm with sunset light. The chandeliers above sparkled gold, swaying just a little in the breeze. Soft music played from somewhere unseen.

I spotted Lyra again, down in the front row. She hadn’t looked back. She sat between two noble girls who were already whispering in her ear. Her posture hadn’t changed.

A hush fell over the crowd.

From behind the dome, three young mages in colored robes stepped onto the stage. Their cuffs shimmered with arcane thread, and one of them raised a polished staff that glowed faintly at the tip.

Asa leaned over. “Watch this part—it’s supposed to be a new illusion trick. They’re using a prism-core.”

As the crowd quieted, soft lights drifted from the stage—little glowing motes that swirled like fireflies, rising toward the dome. The enchantments on the arch flared in soft, steady pulses. Blue, then gold. Then a deep green like pine needles in shadow.

“See that shimmer in the staff?” Asa whispered, nudging me. “That’s the prism-core.”

I squinted. “Looks like a crystal.”

“Kind of is. They pack a bunch of magic inside, and if you twist it the right way, and boom—light, sound, illusions. All at once.”

“Looks kinda shaky to me.”

Asa grinned. “That’s what makes it thrilling.”

The lead performer raised his staff, and three rings of colored energy spun into the air, casting flickering lights over the dome. The crowd let out a soft “whoooa,” then clapped as an illusionary dragon swept overhead, its wings made of light and trailing sparks.

Kids pointed and gasped. Some tried to stand on their toes for a better view. Lyra didn’t flinch—she sat perfectly still, face tilted upward, the lights catching the green in her eyes.

The performers moved in a slow, practiced dance, trailing light behind them like ribbons. The prism-core at the center of the stage pulsed brighter with each spell, colors overlapping now—purple and gold and silver twisting through the air like a ribbon on fire.

It was dark now. The last of the sunlight had faded, and the amphitheater was lit only by the magic and the flickering chandeliers above.

“Grand finale’s next,” Asa said. “Watch—this part’s insane.”

The lead mage raised his staff again. The runes along the dome lit up all at once, a blinding arc of gold. The prism-core spun on its pedestal, glowing almost white.

Then—

CRACK.

The sound split the night like lightning.

One of the caster’s hands slipped. A spell veered off course—fast and jagged like a bolt of pure light. It slammed not into the sky, but high up—into the chain of one of the chandeliers.

The audience gasped.

The chain snapped with a sharp, metallic ping.

I saw it falling before anyone else moved.

Straight toward the front row.

Straight toward her.

“Lyra!” Asa shouted.

But I was already moving.

Feet pounding against the steps, I lunged forward, shoving past two stunned guests. Lyra hadn’t even looked up yet—her head just starting to turn toward the sound.

I reached her just as the chandelier dropped like a hammer.

I grabbed her around the shoulders and yanked her sideways. We tumbled off the edge of the marble seat. The chandelier crashed down behind us with a deafening roar—glass and gold and magic shards exploding outward.

The crowd screamed.

I rolled, shielding her the best I could. Sparks stung my back. My ears rang.

Then… silence.

Her breath was fast and shaky against my chest. My hands were still around her. She hadn’t moved.

I opened one eye.

We were alive.

She didn’t say anything.

Just stared at me—green eyes wide, chest rising and falling fast. Her lips were tight. Not trembling, not scowling.

I loosened my grip and sat back, letting her go.

Shards of gold and crystal glittered across the stone behind us where the chandelier had landed. People were shouting. Someone was calling for a healer. The performers had vanished from the stage.

Lyra just sat there. Still silent. Still staring.

I couldn’t tell if she was angry or just… confused.

She brushed dust off her skirt, slow and mechanical, like she needed something to do with her hands. Then, finally, she turned her head away.

After another moment she stood up on her own and walked back toward the front row like nothing had happened.

Asa reached us a second later, out of breath. “Are you two okay? That thing came down like a meteor—Yun, you just—gods, you moved.”

I stood up slowly, brushing off my sleeves. My back stung, but it wasn’t bad.

“I saw it falling.”

Asa looked at me, then at Lyra’s retreating form. “She’s... uh. That was the quietest I’ve ever seen her.”

I didn’t say anything. Neither had she.

A few minutes later a healer tended to the worst of my wounds and I told Asa that I should be heading back. He walked me back towards the entrance and apologized for everything. Right as I was about to leave, his father showed up.

Lord Valen caught me just as I was about to leave.

“Young man,” he said, voice steady and calm, “that was quick thinking tonight.”

I stopped and gave a short bow. “I just saw it falling, sir.”

He nodded. “Most wouldn’t have moved at all. You did.”

His eyes dropped to my shoulder. The burn still stung a little, but I hadn’t thought much about it.

“You’re still injured,” he said. “Someone will tend to that before you go. And of course, House Valen will offer something in return. We don’t forget things like this.”

I didn’t know what to say to that. So I just nodded.

He looked me in the eye and then gave a short bow.

“You have my thanks.”

He let that hang for a moment. Then added, quieter:

“We’ll remember your name, Yun.”

Asa’s father straightened his back and walked off, just like that—like it was decided.