---
🪷 LYRA 🪷
Lyra hated how loud the campus felt now. Before the break, Ravencrest Academy had always been busy.
She had only just returned that morning. She'd barely dropped her bag in her room before Sienna had dragged her outside to see the commotion.
Amara, class two. Presumably found dead. The word refused to settle in her head properly.
Lyra hadn't known her at all, but still, the thought made her chest feel tight.
She wrapped her arms loosely around her books as she walked down the side path near the old oak trees, trying to clear her head before her next class.
She wasn't paying attention.So when she collided with someone, it startled her.
"Oh, I'm so sorry-"
The person in front of her let out a quiet wince. Lyra looked up immediately, her apology died halfway.
A darkened patch along his cheekbone. A slight split near his eyebrow. His lip looked recently torn. Lots of bruises, fading, but visible.
It took her a second to place him. He was perfectly pressed, dark blazer and crest stitched neatly over the breast pocket. Her eyes flickered to the name tag on his coat. Damon.
"I didn't see you," she said quickly. "I'm really sorry."
"It's fine," he said lightly. "Just a random mishap."
Her eyes flicked over his face again before she could stop herself. She knew she shouldn't ask, it wasn't her business. But the question slipped out anyway.
"Are you okay?"
He tilted his head slightly at that, like the question amused him. He was studying her just as much as she was studying him.
"Yes," he said. "I'm fine."
She shifted her weight slightly from one leg to the other.
"You're from the high-class dorm, right?"
"Is it that obvious?"
"The uniform," she said, nodding toward the crest. "And… well. You all kind of stand like you own the place."
He laughed softly at that. "Do we?"
"Yes."
"That tracks. You're probably wondering how I got these bruises. I'm being accused of murder." He whispered and then smiled, like it was a good thing. She didn't want to ask, but she couldn't help being curious.
Lyra blinked. "Murder?"
"Apparently I was the most convenient option."
"That's-" She struggled to find words. "That's insane."
"Is it?"
"Yes," she said firmly. "They can't just accuse someone like that."
"Do you know Kieran?" he asked suddenly.
"I...I know of him." Damon nodded once, as if that confirmed something.
"He's the one who gave me these," he said, gesturing vaguely to his face.
Her eyes widened. "What?"
"He thinks I did it."
Lyra didn't know what to say. Her gaze drifted back to Damon's split lip.
"That's…" she started carefully, not sure how to end it. "You're bleeding," she said abruptly, noticing the faint red line at the corner of his mouth.
He lifted a hand and brushed his thumb over it. When he pulled it back, there was fresh blood there.
"Hm," he murmured. "Do you have a handkerchief?" he asked casually.
She blinked. "Uh... yeah." Lyra shifted her books awkwardly to one arm and reached into her bag.
For a second, she hesitated. Then she pulled it out and handed it to him.
"Here."
Their fingers brushed briefly as he took it. His skin was cool. Cooler than it should've been.
It was quick, barely anything, but the second their skin made contact, something forced its way into her head.
It was dark, an open space and the sound of leaves moving. There was a girl, she was smiling at someone. One hand pushing her hair behind her ear occasionally. She looked relaxed, like she was in the middle of a normal conversation.
The angle was wrong. It wasn't from across anywhere, it was from directly in front of her.
The girl's eyes shifted slightly, focusing on the person she was talking to. Confusion flickered in her eyes and she tried to take a step back.
Lyra couldn't see the face of the person standing in front of the girl. She couldn't see herself either. It was like she was inside someone else's line of sight.
The girl's lips parted like she wanted to ask something, but nothing came out. A hand lifted into view and scene shifted closer, so close that Lyra could see the pulse in the girl's neck.
Her hands pushed weakly against someone's chest, the resistance was useless.
"Hey," Lyra snapped back into reality with a light gasp. Her hand was still half extended.
Her pulse was racing, she hadn't imagined that. She knew what imagination felt like. This wasn't that. It had felt like she was standing where someone else had stood.
The memory didn't belonged to the girl. It had belonged to the one facing her. Her eyes lifted slowly to Damon.
"Are you alright?" he asked.
She pulled her hand back a little too quickly. Her fingers felt cold, almost numb.
He pressed the white fabric lightly against his lip.
"I'll wash it before returning it," he said.
"That's okay," she replied quickly. "You can keep it."
"You're very kind," he said softly. The way he said it made her slightly uncomfortable.
Not because it sounded mocking. But because it sounded like he was cataloging the information.
"Anyone would've done it," she said.
"No," he said quietly. "They wouldn't."
A breeze moved through the trees above them, rustling leaves.
"I'm sorry you're being accused," she said after a moment. "If you didn't do it."
"If," he repeated.
She met his eyes properly then. There was something there she couldn't quite read.
"You didn't," she said, more firmly this time. "Right?"
"Would it matter what I said?"
"Yes," she answered immediately.
He seemed to consider that. Then he lowered the handkerchief from his lips.
"I didn't kill her," he said calmly.
Lyra let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding.
"Then it'll get sorted out," she said. "Accusations like that don't just stick."
"You'd be surprised," he murmured.
"I have class," she said quickly. "I should go."
"Of course."
She gave a small nod and stepped around him. After a few steps, she glanced back.
He was still standing there, watching her. She forced herself not to look again and kept walking.
—
Behind her, Damon slowly lowered the handkerchief. He looked down at the bright red stain blooming against the white fabric.
Then he lifted it to his nose and inhaled deeply. His eyes closed for just a second.
When they opened again, they glowed a bright red. His tongue brushed lightly against his split lip, tasting the last trace of his own blood.
"Kind," he murmured softly to himself. A slow smile crept onto his face.
Then he folded the handkerchief carefully and slipped it into his pocket. And walked in the opposite direction.
__
Lyra didn't remember walking back to the dorm.
She knew she must have. Her legs had carried her across the courtyard, past the main hall, up the stone steps and through the lobby doors. But her mind was somewhere else.
By the time she reached her room, the noise from downstairs had grown louder. The girls found a new thing to talk about, the death of Amara became the new gist of the place.
Sienna was already there, sitting cross-legged on her bed, phone in hand, expression intense.
"You took forever," Sienna said without looking up. "Do you know what's happening now?"
Lyra dropped her bag slowly by her desk.
"What now?"
"They're saying the academy might release an official statement tonight. So everyone's going to gather at the main auditorium."
"About Amara?" she asked carefully.
"Obviously about Amara. Who else?" Sienna flopped back dramatically onto her pillow. "Okay, listen. Here's what I've gathered. Two girls from Class Two found her early this morning, near the east courtyard. She was just there. Some people are saying there was blood. And there's this rumor about a mark on her neck," Sienna added.
Sienna sat up almost suddenly and grabbed her phone.
"They posted a picture of her."
"Posted?" Lyra looked up.
"On the academy's feed."
"Show me." Sienna shifted closer, sitting beside her on the bed, angling the phone so they could both see.
The academy logo sat at the top of the post, formal wordings and captions. Lyra barely read the words. Her eyes moved lower to the photo attached, probably taken from a student ID.
"That's Amara?"
"Yep." It was her, the same face, the same girl. There was no mistaking it.
She hadn't known those details, sge hadn't known the angle of the courtyard from that position. She hadn't known how close Amara had been standing to whoever was in front of her. Yet she had seen it, clearly, just by touching...Damon.
"Lyra? You look like you've seen a ghost or something."
"I just…" Lyra forced her gaze away from the phone. She struggled to find something normal to say. "I just find it hard to believe."
"They say she was last seen the morning it happened." Sienna continued. "No one knows who she was with."
No one knows who she was with. Except someone did. Someone had been standing right in front of her. And somehow, for a split second, Lyra had seen it.
She pressed her palms together tightly to stop them from shaking.
"She looks nice," Sienna said quietly, glancing back at the photo. "It's weird. Seeing her like that."
Lyra didn't hear what Sienna said afterwards, her mind kept circling one question.
Why? Why had she seen that when she touched Damon?
It had been too detailed. The face in the photo was the same one from the flash.
Either she was losing her mind...or she had just seen something she was never supposed to see. It wasn't normal.