Rain gently drizzled over the cobblestone streets of Velmira, a silent town located in a wooden valley where an old secret was buried under an ancient stone and mist. In this town the time seems different from the normal earth time, it moves slower, people hardly talk to each other and when it’s dark, they totally avoid one another and even the wind blowing carries different ancient stories
Lyra Raven stood under a crooked lamplight outside the Owlris library, her finger caressing the wet letter that had been soaked from the rain. It had arrived four nights earlier, sealed with a moon-stamped wax and nothing was written on the outside. The message inside was faint and slanted.
“Come back before the 17th Moon. What you lost is waiting for you”
That was all, like what is this… and there is not even a signature on it, to trace the person talk less of knowing the person. 
“Wait, he said…..is the person he or she? No, cus I don’t know. 
What was waiting for her? The question echoed like a ghost. Lyra had lost too much already.
Lyra had made a promise to herself never to return to Vermilia. Not after the fire accident which tore her life apart in one terrible night that was filled with fire, smoke, screams, and shadows. Everything she loved, her parents, her home, and her little brother Luca, who was lost in the blaze that consumed their house on Hollow Ridge Hill.
And then there was Ethan Night, her childhood friend more like a little sweet couple disappeared that same night, slipping away like smoke into the woods behind their burning home, No goodbyes, no letters, just gone.
This makes her life  miserable because she has no one left. Nobody she could call family, nobody she could run to.
Ten years later, the pain was still there, like a new injury that cannot be healed, a sharp pain and a heaviness she kept hidden in her chest.
Now, as she stood before the library’s old doors, that ache stirred once more, and she felt a sharp pain in her chest.
She wiped the rain that fell on her cheeks, she didn’t know whether they were tears or not.
“It’s still the same as I left, the scent of wet stones, wood smoke, and lingering magic,” she said. Velmira was the kind of town that pretended not to believe in stories, yet everyone locked their windows tight after dark.
Lyra took a deep breath, stepped forward, and pushed the heavy wooden door of the library open.
The smell of old books fills the air, and lavender oil wrapped around her like a comforting hug. Books full of more mysteries than stories fill the tall shelf, almost reaching the ceiling. The dim lanterns glowed softly, illuminating the polished wood and intricate carvings.
The silence in the library grew lively again and the feeling with buzzing energy.
“Miss Raven?”
Lyra turned quickly. From behind the desk, an older woman appeared, her hair streaked with gray and pinned up casually. Her glasses rested on her nose, her eyes sharp and knowing.
“Mrs. Kael,” Lyra whispered, surprised.
“You’ve grown,” the librarian said gently. “Your eyes still carry storms.”
“I didn’t think you’d still be here,” Lyra replied.
“I never left.” Mrs. Kael’s gaze shifted to the letter in Lyra’s hand. “And neither has the truth.”
Lyra lowered her eyes. “The letter. Did you?”
“No,” the librarian interrupted gently. “But I knew you’d find your way back. The wind has been restless.”
Lyra took a deep breath. “I need answers. About the fire, what could have caused it, how does it happened, and about Ethan's disappearance. About what’s calling me back?”
Mrs. Kael studied her intently, then gestured toward the back of the library. “Then you must go downstairs. The Archives are waiting.”
A chill ran through Lyra. The Archives had been sealed off—hidden for ten years. She remembered warnings scrawled in the margins of her childhood books: The Whispering Room lies beneath. Guard your thoughts. Guard your name.
But deep down, she had always known she would come back in search of the truth she needed to know.
As she followed Mrs. Kael down the back stairway, her footsteps echoing gently on the stone, memories rushed back: laughter by the fountain, her brother chasing fireflies, Ethan telling stories under a flickering lantern. And then, the night when everything changed, flames dancing in the windows, Luca screaming, and Ethan’s hand slipping from hers as he ran into the woods without looking back.
They walked through the darkness.
The walls grew colder and older until they reached a chamber carved from deep stone, lined with mirrors that distorted their reflections. An iron door marked with a crescent moon stood at the far end.
Mrs. Kael lifted a key from a silver chain around her neck. “Only those touched by the fire may enter,” she said, placing the key into Lyra’s hand. “And only if they truly wish to remember.”
Lyra stared at the key. “Why now?”
“Because something has awakened,” the librarian whispered. “And you’re not the frightened girl who left this place. The sanctuary is calling you.”
Lyra took a deep breath and stepped toward the door and inserted the key.
When the key turned in the lock, it made a deep, booming noise that felt like it had been trapped for years. The heavy door opened slowly, revealing a dimly lit room filled with a blueish glow.
In the center of the room stood a tall, narrow mirror covered in strange symbols. The floor beneath it was coated in a fine, grayish dust. As Lyra stepped inside, the door slammed shut behind her.
A thick silence enveloped her.
She moved closer to the mirror. To her surprise, her reflection flickered. She not only saw her current self but also a younger version of herself, just eight years old, holding hands with a boy who made her heart race, her childhood friend.
“Ethan...” she whispered.
Suddenly, the mirror began to shift. The symbols glowed brightly, and the room grew darker. Shadows seemed to swirl around her feet, not threatening, but curious. A gentle voice began to echo, coming not from the walls, but from the depths of her memory.
“Not everything fades away, Lyra. Something’s hide until we’re brave enough to confront them ourselves.”
She clutched her pendant tightly, the only thing she had left after the fire. It was a silver necklace with a moonstone in the center, a gift from Ethan when they were both ten. “To guide you when you’re lost,” he had said.
The mirror pulsed with energy.
From the corner of the room, something stirred.
Lyra turned quickly.
A boy stood there.
No, he was a man now—taller, more defined. He had deep black hair, piercing grey eyes, and a scar above his brow that she didn’t recognize. Yet there was something familiar about the way he stood. The silence he carried felt like home.
“Ethan?” she gasped.
He took a step closer, his voice low and raw with emotion. “You came back.”
Her legs trembled with the urge to run to him. Her lips shuddered with questions. But all she managed was a whisper…, “Where have you been?”
His eyes held a pain that echoed her own. “I was stuck between what I had to do and what I wished I could have done.”
She quickly stepped forward with a sense of urgency. “What happened that night?”
His gaze darkened. “The fire wasn’t an accident. It was planned. Someone or something wanted to wipe us out entirely.”
“Wipe us out?” she echoed, confusion rising in her mind.
“Our family line. We are the Whisper born.”
Lyra felt her head spin. “That’s just a story.”
“No,” Ethan replied quietly. “It’s our history. And I think you’re part of it.”