Aetherian

Chapter Three

The knocking echoed through the house like a drumbeat, each strike rattling the fragile calm. I froze, my hand instinctively tightening around Rakkial's. My mother exchanged a panicked glance with Clara, and for a moment, no one moved. The next set of knocks came sharper, more insistent. Whoever was on the other side wasn't going to leave.

Clara, braver—or maybe just more stubborn—than the rest of us, stepped forward. "Stay back," she whispered, her voice tight. She cracked the door just enough to peer out, and the faint glow that spilled inside made my stomach churn.

I heard Clara's sharp inhale before the door swung wider, and the visitors stepped inside. My breath caught. They weren't like us—weren't like anyone I'd ever seen.

The first was a tall woman with a jaw sharp enough to cut glass. Her silvery hair shimmered in the dim light, and her slate-gray eyes scanned the room like she was looking for a threat. Her clothes, some mix of armor and elegance, glinted faintly. She looked every bit the soldier—calm, composed, and deadly.

Next to her was a woman with softer features and chestnut hair pulled back loosely. There was a warmth in her eyes, the kind of calm that felt like a balm to an open wound. Her golden robes shimmered faintly, and her smile—small and reserved—did nothing to ease the weight settling in my chest. She didn't look at anyone else. Just me.

The last of the three was a burly man with a scowl so deep I wondered if his face had ever learned to smile. His cloak, a deep crimson, hung haphazardly over one shoulder, and his broad frame filled the doorway like a wall. His dark eyes roamed the room with open disdain, lingering on the cracks in the walls and the sagging furniture like he was offended by our poverty.

"I am Captain Kalith," the tall woman said, her voice crisp and authoritative. "This is Healer Alenna and Mage Durnan. We're here on behalf of the magic realm."

The words hung in the air, impossible and surreal. Magic realm? I barely understood what that meant, and the way my mother flinched told me she didn't want to, either. She stepped in front of me, her voice trembling. "I think you have the wrong house."

The soldier—Kalith—didn't even blink. "We don't. A surge of power was felt across the magical realm. A force unlike any we've encountered in decades. It brought us here."

Magic. They were talking about magic. My heart pounded so hard it felt like it might bruise my ribs. I looked at Clara, hoping for some sign that I wasn't losing my mind, but her jaw was set in a hard line, her fists clenched at her sides.

"There's no magic here," Clara said sharply, her voice steadier than my mother's.

"Are you sure about that?" The man, Durnan, spoke for the first time, his voice gravelly and rough. His gaze locked onto me, and I felt like he could see straight through my skin. "Because something here reeks of it. Her, most of all."

Heat rushed to my cheeks, a mix of fear and anger. I couldn't speak, couldn't defend myself. I wanted to deny it, to agree with my mother's lies, but the golden light still haunted my memory. It didn't matter what I said. I knew the truth, and somehow, so did they.

Alenna stepped forward, her voice softer, almost apologetic. "You've been quiet," she said, her warm eyes searching mine. "Perhaps you have something to share?"

I swallowed hard. Clara shot me a warning glance, and my mother's face was a silent plea. But I couldn't keep this hidden anymore—not after what had happened in the square.

"It was me," I whispered. My voice was barely audible, but it felt deafening in the tense silence that followed.

Durnan let out a bark of laughter, cruel and cutting. "Of course, it's the peasant girl," he sneered, looking me over like I was something scraped off his boot. "Power wasted on someone who probably can't even spell 'magic.'"

My stomach twisted, but I bit back the urge to lash out. Words like his weren't new to me, but hearing them now—when my life was already unraveling—felt like salt on an open wound.

"Enough, Durnan," Kalith said sharply. She turned her attention to me, her expression softer but no less commanding. "You need to come with us. Whatever power you've unleashed, it's far beyond your control. Staying here puts you—and everyone else—in danger."

"No." The word escaped me before I even realized I'd spoken it. I stepped back, clutching Rakkial's hand. "I don't trust you. I don't even know you."

Alenna's gaze softened further, and she took a slow step closer. "I understand your fear, Lyra. But this power isn't something you can face alone. Let us help you. I promise, no harm will come to you."

The warmth in her voice washed over me like sunlight breaking through clouds. It wasn't just her words—I could feel the truth in them, feel my pulse slowing, the panic easing. My shoulders sagged, and against my better judgment, I nodded.

"No!" My mother's voice cut through the quiet, frantic and desperate. "You can't take her. She's my daughter."

"And my sister," Clara added, her voice trembling. "She belongs here, with us."

I turned to them, guilt clawing at my chest. "I have to go," I said quietly. "I need to understand what's happening to me. I can't stay—not like this."

Rakkial's grip on my hand tightened, his small voice breaking as he whispered, "You promised you wouldn't leave."

I knelt in front of him, brushing away the tears streaming down his cheeks. "I'll come back," I said, my voice trembling. "I swear, Rakkial. I'll come back."

He threw his arms around my neck, holding me tight. "You better," he whispered fiercely. "You better come back."

I pulled away reluctantly, my own tears threatening to spill over. As I turned back to the strangers—no, the mages—at the door, I felt the weight of my family's stares behind me. I didn't look back. I couldn't.

For the first time in my life, I was walking into the unknown. But maybe—just maybe—I'd finally find the answers I'd been searching for.