Chapter 42 Timely Rescue
Lyra cried out at the sight of the sword, but Olga stretched her hands toward her and immediately she became immobilized.
“Stop!” she cried out as the magic burned deep.
She didn’t understand what was happening to her body at first. The heat building under her skin wasn’t normal, it wasn’t human. It felt like fire pushing through her veins, like something ancient clawed its way up from the deepest part of her chest.
Her vision blurred. Her bones cracked and when she lifted her hands, her nails had lengthened into curved, glinting claws.
She didn't want to transform into her half-breed form, not now!
“What… what’s happening to me?” she gasped, choking on the pain as her spine twisted with a sickening pop.
Darius stared at her, horrified.
“What are you?”
Lyra shook her head, panting, her pulse hammering so hard she could barely breathe.
Her skin darkened into a pale, silvery grey and fur spread across her arms like wildfire. Her hair lengthened and whitened, falling around her shoulders in glowing strands. She felt her teeth sharpen, scraping the inside of her mouth.
She wasn't a wolf.
She wasn't a vampire.
She wasn’t human.
She was all of them and none of them.
An abomination.
Darius stumbled backward, pointing at her like she was a curse made flesh.
“Abomination!”
And Olga, who had been so confident in her spell, suddenly stepped back, eyes wide as saucers.
“Freak!” she shrieked.
The straps holding Lyra began to snap and she growled on the stone table.
“Hold her down!” Darius commanded.
Several soldiers rushed forward, grabbing her arms, her shoulders, her hair, anything they could. But Lyra’s instincts overpowered her fear.
She twisted violently, the strength in her new limbs terrifying even her. She grabbed a soldier’s arm and flung him like a rag doll. Another tried to restrain her, but she slammed him into the ground so hard the dust exploded around them.
“Hold her!” Darius shouted. “Don’t let that creature escape!”
Creature. That was her new title. She wasn't a girl, not a woman, not his daughter. Just a creature.
Lyra snarled, a sound she didn’t recognize coming from her own throat as she disarmed two of the men at once, sweeping their legs and throwing them aside with unnatural force.
She didn’t even know how she was doing it, but her body was moving like it remembered some ancient instinct she’d never learned.
More soldiers tried to pin her down, but they ended up struggling to overpower her because she was too fast, too wild. She sent another man flying with a single swipe of her arm.
Darius’s patience snapped.
He put two fingers to his lips and whistled sharply. Lyra paused at the sound, frozen.
Within seconds, twenty more soldiers stormed in, lining the walls, panting and alert. Their eyes went straight to Lyra.
Every single one froze.
They had never seen anything like her. This pale creature with glowing hair and silvered claws, panting like a cornered beast.
Darius pointed the sword at her throat.
“Grab it and hold it down. I will behead it myself.”
The soldiers attacked and Lyra fought back again, but she was tiring. Her body was still changing, still burning, still foreign even to her. They overwhelmed her eventually, forcing her to the floor, pinning her arms, her legs, her shoulders until she could barely breathe.
Darius raised his sword high murderously and Lyra shut her eyes.
But before the blade fell, Olga ran forward.
“Wait!” she shrieked. “There’s another way!”
Darius froze, panting, his chest heaving. “What are you talking about?”
Olga’s voice was trembling. “I could perform a ritual. There is a possibility that I might be able to extract this creature’s soul and summon Irene’s back into the body.”
Lyra’s heart dropped. “You want to replace me?”
Darius ignored her completely.
He stared at Olga with desperation burning in his eyes. “You can do that? Bring Irene back?”
Olga swallowed, nodding. “If Irene’s soul is still wandering, yes. But you must not injure the body. If you scar or cut it, she will return with those scars.”
Darius didn’t hesitate.
“Guards! Unhand her. Now! Do not harm the body. Tie her down carefully!”
“I will perform an exorcism.”
Lyra’s eyes widened in horror. “You can’t be serious! You can’t just erase me! Irene is dead! She died naturally, I didn't kill her!”
But the guards weren’t listening. They grabbed ropes and began tying her wrists and ankles to heavy metal rings bolted into the floor.
“Darius, please. Please don’t do this. I’m not your daughter.”
“That’s the problem,” he snapped.
Olga dumped her bags onto the ground, rummaging frantically through herbs, stones, powders, and strange bone charms.
She grabbed chalk and knelt down, drawing a pentagon on the ground with swift, practiced strokes.
Lyra felt dread coil tight in her stomach.
Olga didn’t even look at her when she said, “Bring me something that once belonged to Irene. I need a personal item to tie the summoning.”
Darius sprinted out of the yard like a madman and returned seconds later, breathless, holding a small pink pig plushie and a sapphire ring.
“These,” he said, voice cracking. “She loved these.”
Olga took them without hesitation. She placed the pig and ring gently at the center of the pentagon. Then she took a knife, pricked Darius’s palm, and let a few drops of his blood fall on the symbols.
Lyra felt the magic ignite instantly.
Her body jerked violently against the ropes. “Stop, please!”
Olga began to chant. Her voice sounded like several people speaking at once and the stones around the pentagon glowed faint blue.
Lyra screamed as something pulled at her chest. It was not her body, but her soul. Like invisible claws were trying to rip her from herself.
“NO!” she shrieked, arching off the floor as far as the ropes stretched.
The chanting grew louder and more powerful, but Lyra fought it with everything and finally her body became still.
Olga gasped softly. “It didn’t work.”
Darius stumbled forward. “What? No, do it again! Try again!”
Olga stood slowly, shaking her head.
“Irene wasn’t murdered. She died naturally on the desert road. Her soul has already found peace in the afterlife. There is nothing to summon. Nothing to bring back. I am sorry.”
“No, no, no, no!” he roared, grabbing Olga by the shoulders. “Do something! Bring her back! Please!”
Olga sighed. “No magic can reverse the peace of a soul. It is forbidden.”
Darius’s voice dropped to a deadly whisper. “If I can’t have my daughter back, then this creature doesn’t deserve to live either.”
Lyra closed her eyes, muttering her last prayers. Perhaps this was a better death than becoming the Blood King’s little pawn forever.
“Death is peace,” she muttered, trying to console herself as she braced for the pain. But it never came.
The loud rumbling sound of a motorcycle engine suddenly filled the air.
A bike skidded in, tires screeching across the stone
floor. The rider launched off the seat, instantly transforming mid-air into a massive werewolf and shielding Lyra from Darius.
Lyra gasped. “Dax.”