Defne opened her eyes to the faint morning light filtering through the window. A weight pressed against her chest — a nameless, unshakable heaviness. She rose slowly, drawn by a sense of unease that echoed deep within her.
She pulled back the curtain and gazed outside. The garden, the trees, the flowers... everything was as it should be. Yet the world felt unfamiliar, as though something fundamental had shifted.
Her heart quickened. The feeling inside her pulsed like a silent alarm. She left the room in haste, her steps taking her straight to Lyra's door.
Lyra lay sound asleep, a serene innocence resting on her face. Defne let out a breath of fragile relief. She stepped closer, simply watching her for a moment.
But the knot in her chest only tightened.
She turned and quietly left the room, stepping out into the garden to breathe. She touched the petals of the flowers, inhaled the scent of damp earth, tried to ground herself. Yet nothing could still the growing storm within.
Each flower she touched sparked a memory: planting them with Lyra, laughing under the sun, dreaming together. She remembered the first time she held her, the feel of her tiny hands, her silvery eyes.
Lyra was not her flesh and blood — but she was hers, in every way that mattered.
She tilted her head to the sky. And in that moment, her breath caught.
There were two moons.
One white as snow. One dark as night. And both poured their light only upon Lyra's room.
The prophecy had come to pass. Waltor had kept his promise. The time had come.
She hurried back to Lyra's room.
"Lyra," she called softly, gently shaking her shoulder.
Lyra's eyes fluttered open, and at once, she saw the fear in her mother's gaze.
"Mom... are you okay?" she asked.
Defne's voice trembled. "It's time."
Lyra swallowed, a knot rising in her throat. She barely managed a whisper: "Mom?"
Defne took her hands, kissed them, and held them to her heart.
"Don't be afraid. Just follow me."
---
They walked. For how long, neither could tell. Hours, maybe. The world fell silent around them. Lyra didn't speak — couldn't speak. She followed the only person she trusted, her mother.
At last, Defne stopped. Lyra halted beside her, looking around.
They stood in a vast valley, endless and unfamiliar. The sky above them had not changed. The two moons still hovered, their lights still fixed on Lyra alone.
Black and white — and Lyra in between. A soul caught in the gray.
Defne knelt and embraced her. And in that embrace was a love deeper than words, a farewell blooming in silence.
"Listen to me, my child," Defne said quietly, "just listen."
Lyra nodded, eyes already shimmering with tears.
"I raised you as my own. You are more precious to me than life itself. But I lied to you. I didn't find you at my door... You were entrusted to me.
You are not mine by blood. You are the daughter of my dearest friend, Clara.
When your mother died, her last wish was for me to protect you. And I swore I would — with my life if I had to."
Her voice cracked, tears falling freely now.
"But the curse has found you. The moons have revealed it. My strength... it's no longer enough. I can't protect you anymore.
You must go. You must live. For justice to awaken, for truth to rise, you must walk your own path.
I love you, Lyra. Never forget that."
Her knees gave way. She collapsed to the ground, sobbing. Not softly — no. This was the sobbing of a mother torn apart. Raw. Endless.
Lyra felt like she was dreaming.
What did this all mean?
The curse, the moons, the truth about her mother — everything blurred into confusion and fear.
Lightning flashed across the sky. Thunder cracked so loud the earth trembled beneath them.
Lyra knelt beside Defne, crying.
And as they cried, the sky wept with them.
Rain fell in torrents, heavy and unrelenting.
The mother and daughter clung to each other, lost in sorrow. The world had broken open.
"Don't cry, Mom..." Lyra whispered, her voice trembling.
Defne wiped her tears, steeled herself. She stood, then gently helped Lyra to her feet.
Raising her head to the heavens, she cried out:
"Alice! Alice! Alice!"
A light appeared in the sky.
But it was no ordinary starfall. It did not plummet. It hovered, suspended in midair. Sparks spun around it like a thousand golden birds.
And from within the glow, a silhouette began to form.
Lyra shielded her eyes.
The woman who emerged could not be described with mortal words.
Light radiated from her skin like sunlight through golden silk. Her hair flowed like moonlight itself, rippling on an unseen breeze.
Her eyes — they held the twilight. Not day, not night — but that delicate moment in between. Peaceful as dawn, vast as the stars.
Lyra held her breath.
"Is this... an angel?" she wondered.
The woman's voice was a song carried on the wind.
"What's happening, Defne?" she asked, her tone soft but weighty.
Lyra felt her fear slowly dissolve. In its place bloomed a strange surrender. As if her soul had always waited for this moment.
Defne raised her head, pale and shaken.
"It's time," she said. "Look to the sky, Alice."
Alice followed her gaze.
Her eyes widened. Her lips trembled.
"This... this is a prophecy," she whispered. "By all gods and goddesses..."
Silence fell.
Only the wind and the weeping sky remained.
Between them stood Lyra.
She
didn't understand — not fully.
Yet something inside her stirred, old as time.
Her soul... had already crossed the threshold of fate.