Rain poured down on Elstra Village in a monotonous rhythm, as if echoing the restless throb in Lyra's chest. Behind the worn-out window of her room, the girl sat in silence, staring blankly outside. Droplets slid down the glass, splitting the dim light from the hanging lantern in the corner.
Since childhood, Lyra had known she was different. But it wasn't the kind of difference one could explain with words. It wasn't some great power or a strange birthmark like in fairy tales. It was more like a whisper in her ear at midnight, dreams that repeated without ever ending, and above all... the shadow that always stood outside her window whenever it rained.
The shadow had no face. Tall, dark, and always silent. Since she was eight years old, it had appeared every time the rain came. It never entered. Never left early. It just stood there, watching, as if waiting.
At first, Lyra had been terrified. She once told her adoptive father, Eldric, an old apothecary in the village, but the man only said, "A shadow isn't always evil. Sometimes it's merely a reflection of what you don't yet understand."
Now, at nineteen, Lyra no longer reported it. She simply sat, gazing back at the shadow like two beings tied by an untold story.
Wind howled. The window shook.
Lyra stood, holding the rotting wooden frame. Outside, fog had begun to blanket the garden. The shadow was still there. Unmoving.
But this time, something was different.
The shadow… turned.
Lyra froze. Her body stiffened, her blood seemed to stop flowing. It was the first time the figure ever reacted. And more than just turning it moved, stepping closer to the window. Its movement made no sound. When it reached the glass, Lyra could just barely see two glowing red points where eyes should be.
She stepped back. Her breath caught. Her heart thundered.
Suddenly ting!
Something fell from the mantel above the fireplace. A dusty book hit the floor without any apparent reason. Lyra turned in panic. That book hadn't been there before. She walked over, fingers trembling as she picked up the weathered leather cover.
No title. Only a strange winged spiral symbol engraved on the front.
As her fingers touched it, the room plunged into darkness. The lantern died. The rain stopped. Silence fell. The shadow outside vanished.
"Lyra."
The voice was clear. Not from the room but from inside her mind.
She gasped. The book burned in her hands. She dropped it, but before she could step back, the pages began flipping on their own, turned by an unseen wind.
On the final page, thick black ink bled into view, shaping words one by one:
"Your blood calls. Your legacy awaits. The shadow is not your enemy, but part of you."
Lyra stood frozen. Her heart pounded wildly. Behind her, footsteps echoed from the floor below. Heavy. Unhurried.
"Eldric?" she called.
No answer. But the door creaked open.
Eldric stepped in. His face was solemn. Paler than usual.
"You saw it again, didn't you?" he asked without preamble.
Lyra bit her lip and nodded.
Eldric entered, eyes falling on the open book on the floor. He sighed deeply. "It has begun," he whispered, almost to himself. "The shadow has chosen to reveal the path."
"What do you mean?" Lyra asked. "What's happening? Who… who is it?"
Eldric looked at her with a gaze she had never seen before part sorrow, part burden, part fear.
"You must know who you truly are, Lyra," he said softly. "Before those who seek you find it first."
•••
That night, the sky showed no sign of calming. When the rain stopped, lightning began to scar the heavens. Eldric led Lyra to the basement a room that had always been locked.
There, Lyra saw something far more frightening than the shadow: a massive portrait on the wall, depicting a young woman who looked just like her, wearing a black robe with the winged spiral on her chest.
"Who is she?" Lyra whispered.
"Her name is Lethira. Your mother," Eldric replied. "And she was not a normal human."
Lyra almost laughed, but her lips were numb. "You're joking, right?"
"I wish I were."
Eldric pulled out an ancient letter, the ink shimmering gold beneath the torchlight.
It was handwritten in an old language. But the name at the end of the page was unmistakable:
"To my daughter, Lyra Eiran. The Shadow's Heir."
"Why now?" Lyra asked weakly. "Why are you telling me this now?"
"Because that shadow it's your guardian. And if it starts to move closer, it means the veil between worlds is weakening. You are about to be called back… to your true world."
Lyra felt the world she knew begin to unravel. The village. The quiet life. All of it a mirage.
Eldric placed a hand on her shoulder. "You don't have to choose tonight. But if you open that book fully, there will be no turning back. The real world... is not this kind."
Lyra looked down at the book in her hands.
And strangely, amidst all the chaos, something inside her felt… whole. Like a piece of a puzzle falling into place.
The shadow wasn't her enemy. It was part of her identity.
But... what did that truly mean?
And why did her heart feel a strange pull toward the shadow? A foreign emotion… one she had never felt for any ordinary human.
•••
Outside, beyond the mist, a figure in a dark cloak stood under the ancient tree. He watched the old house with calm, piercing eyes.
"She's waking up…" he murmured.
From beneath his hood, red eyes flickered to life.
And behind him, a winged shadow loomed in the midnight haze.
•••
Back inside, Lyra sat by the fireplace, trying to steady herself. Everything had happened so fast. The figure outside her window. The mysterious book. The truth about her mother. And most baffling of all she was the Shadow's Heir.
She looked down at her hands, trembling. Something felt wrong.
Just below her left wrist, a faint mark had appeared. Like a burn forming the same winged spiral symbol as on the book's cover. She touched it, and instantly, a searing heat rushed up her arm.
"Ahh!" Lyra cried, collapsing.
Eldric rushed to her side. "It's begun…" the old man murmured, eyes wide with awe and dread. "The blood seal. The symbol of your mother's line."
"Why does it... hurt?" Lyra asked breathlessly.
"Because the power hasn't fully awakened. Your body is still human. But your blood... is no longer neutral."
He fetched a vial from the shelf and handed it to her. "Drink this. It will dampen the bloodfire, at least for tonight."
The burning subsided after she drank it, but fear and curiosity still gripped her tightly.
"So… my mother was from a magical realm?" Lyra asked softly.
"From Arvadell," Eldric said. "A kingdom long lost to our world. Trapped between dimensions after war and betrayal."
"And my father?"
Eldric paused. For a long time.
"He was not from Arvadell," he finally said. "But neither was he truly human. That's why... you're an anomaly. Half royal blood, half something we still don't fully understand."
Lyra swallowed hard. "Is that why I've always had strange dreams? Always felt watched?"
Eldric nodded. "And why you never quite fit in this world. You were never meant to stay. But not as a commoner. You were born to be either its savior... or its ruin."
"You speak like I'm some kind of object," she said sharply.
"That's not what I meant." His gaze softened. "But the power you've inherited... is not neutral. It follows the will of its bearer. If your heart is dark, the shadows will consume you. If your spirit is strong, you can master them."
Lyra closed her eyes. "I never asked for this…"
"Destiny doesn't ask permission," Eldric whispered. "But choice... is always yours."
•••
Hours later, with Eldric asleep in the old chair by the fire, Lyra returned to her room.
The rain had stopped, but the air felt heavy. The mist lingered. The mysterious book sat on her desk, open to the page with the earlier message but now, more words had appeared in fresh ink:
"If you seek to know who you are, look not in the mirror, but into your shadow. There lies the truth."
Without thinking, Lyra touched the surface of the page. As she did, the room shuddered softly. The air turned icy. The window fogged over once more.
She stood slowly, staring into the glass and this time, she didn't see just one shadow.
There were two.
One was the familiar tall, faceless figure.
The other... smaller. More like herself. A shadow that didn't mimic her movements, but stared back alive.
She swallowed hard. Her hand reached toward the glass.
And the voice came again, soft and captivating:
"You are not alone, Lyra. This world may break you, but your blood will make you whole."
The shadow reached out from the other side.
Only the window separated them but Lyra knew, if she touched that hand, everything would change.
She looked down at her own hand. Then back into those red, glowing eyes behind the mist.
And without meaning to she touched the glass.
In an instant, the temperature dropped. Wind howled from nowhere. The floor quaked. The lantern went out.
And Lyra... vanished from her room.
•••
Downstairs, Eldric jolted awake at the sound of a loud crash. He ran up the stairs, heart pounding, and burst into her room.
Empty.
The window wide open. Mist curling inside. The book on the table burned slowly, its last page glowing with one word:
"CHOSEN."
Eldric fell to his knees, clutching his chest.
"I'm too late…" he whispered, tears falling.
"Lyra… please be strong."
•••
Elsewhere, in a realm only accessible through ancient blood, Lyra stood in the void. No solid ground beneath her. No sky above. Only shadows hundreds, thousands floating like lost spirits searching for their owner.
And from afar, the cloaked man began to approach. His face still hidden, but his voice clear.
"At last, you've arrived."
Lyra turned, fierce.
"Who are you?"
"The one who has guarded you since birth. The one who stood behind the window."
The shadow had never been just a watcher. He was a guardian.
And now… a guide.
"My name is Kael," he said. "And this… is the beginning of everything."