The forest was darker than Lyra expected, even with the moonlight breaking through the tree branches above. The tall man in the cloak walked ahead of her, moving with an ease that made her wonder if he had done this a thousand times. Lyra kept her hand close to her staff, every sound from the forest around them making her more alert.

“Where are you taking me?” she asked after they’d walked for what felt like an hour.

“You’ll see,” he said without turning around. His tone was calm but gave away nothing.

She frowned but kept walking. Her boots crunched on the fallen leaves, and the cold air made her breath visible. The farther they went, the quieter the forest became, as though even the animals didn’t dare make a sound.

Finally, they came to a clearing. A group of tents and makeshift shelters stood in a circle, with a large fire burning in the center. People moved about, their clothes mismatched but practical, their faces serious. Lyra could tell right away they weren’t ordinary villagers. These were fighters—rebels, maybe. Their weapons glinted in the firelight, and their movements were purposeful.

The man stopped and turned to her. “Welcome to the camp.”

“What camp?” Lyra asked, eyeing the people cautiously.

He smiled faintly. “Let’s just say it’s a safe place for people like you—people who don’t fit in anywhere else.”

Lyra wasn’t convinced. She didn’t trust the way some of the fighters looked at her as she passed, their eyes narrowing in suspicion. She followed the man toward the largest tent, her grip tightening on her staff. Inside, the tent was lit by a few lanterns hanging from the ceiling. A man stood near a table covered in maps and papers. He was tall, with dark hair that fell just below his ears and a sharp jawline that made him look like he was carved from stone. His dark eyes flicked to her, and his expression hardened.

“This is her?” he asked the cloaked man, his voice low and serious.

“It is,” the man replied.

The tall man at the table stepped closer, crossing his arms. “You look like Eira.”

Lyra’s chest tightened. “I’m not her.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Really? Because everything about you says otherwise. The staff, the aura, even the way people shrink back when you walk into a room. If you’re not her, then who are you?”

Lyra stood her ground. “My name is Lyra. I don’t know how I got here, and I don’t know why I’m in this body. But I’m not the person you think I am.”

The man studied her for a long moment, his dark eyes searching her face. Finally, he sighed and turned away, pacing back to the table. “Whether you’re her or not doesn’t matter. People will see you and think of Eira. And that makes you dangerous.”

“Dangerous?” Lyra repeated, her voice rising. “I didn’t ask for this! I don’t even know what’s going on!”

The man looked back at her, his eyes narrowing. “Then I’ll make it simple for you. Eira was responsible for the Great Devastation. She destroyed everything—homes, lives, entire kingdoms. She betrayed us all. And now you show up, looking exactly like her. Do you expect me to believe that’s a coincidence?”

Lyra felt the weight of his words settle over her. The Great Devastation. She had seen glimpses of it in Eira’s memories—cities burning, people screaming, the world breaking apart. But the idea that Eira caused it… that didn’t feel right. There was more to the story. There had to be.

“I’m not your enemy,” Lyra said quietly. “I don’t even know who you are.”

The man’s jaw tightened. “I’m Kael. And if you’re here, it means trouble is following.”

“Kael,” the cloaked man said, stepping between them. “She’s not what you think. I’ve been watching her. She’s confused, unsure of her power. If she were Eira, she would’ve blasted me the moment we met.”

“That doesn’t mean she’s not dangerous,” Kael shot back.

Lyra clenched her fists. “I can leave if you don’t want me here.”

Kael’s eyes softened for a moment before he shook his head. “No. If you leave, you’ll draw attention to us. And if anyone else recognizes you, we’ll have a lot more problems to deal with.”

Lyra frowned but stayed quiet. She didn’t like being treated as a threat, but she couldn’t argue with his logic.

Before anyone could say more, a loud explosion echoed through the forest. The ground shook, and shouts erupted outside the tent. Kael was already moving, grabbing a sword from the table and barking orders.

“Stay here,” he said to Lyra. Then he disappeared outside.

Lyra didn’t listen. She followed him, stepping out into chaos. Flames lit up the night as fighters scrambled to defend the camp. Figures cloaked in black moved through the trees, throwing bursts of magic that tore through the tents like paper.

One of them spotted her and raised a hand, chanting something under his breath. A bolt of energy shot toward her, and Lyra barely had time to lift her staff. The magic hit the staff and rebounded, sending the attacker flying back.

She stared at the staff in her hands, feeling its power hum under her fingers. It felt alive, like it was waiting for her to take control. For a moment, fear gripped her. Then she remembered the scavengers, the fear in their eyes when she’d fought back. She didn’t want to hurt anyone, but if she didn’t defend herself, she wouldn’t survive.

Another attacker charged at her, and this time she didn’t hesitate. She raised the staff, letting the magic flow through her. Blue light erupted from its tip, knocking the figure to the ground. The camp burned around her, but in that moment, Lyra felt something she hadn’t since waking up in this body—control.