The Origin of Kyra

Chapter one

It has to be a dream, it can't be real. Kyra thought. This can't be real. Kyra was sitting by the edge of a beautiful lake, on the stone floor of a ancient temple ruins, eating the most luscious plums. The forest around her was lust and green, and the sound of the water rushing at her feet was soothing and peaceful. Even the air all around her was sweet and fresh. "Where am I?" She asked out loud, reaching for a plum grape from the gorgeous picnic set before her.

"Why, you've been in Auradon for days now, and this is the Enchanted Lake," answered the boy seated next to her.

She hadn't noticed him until he spoke, but now that she had noticed, she wished she hadn't. The boy was the worst part of all this-whatever this was tall, with white  hair and black roots on the bottom, and painfully handsome with the kind of smile that melted hearts and made all the girls swoon. But neither Kyra or Mal wasn't like all the girls, and she was starting to feel panicked, like she was trapped here somehow. In Auradon, of all places. And that it might not be a dream

"Who are you?" she demanded. "Are you some kind of person who wants to help me or something?" She looked askance at his fine black and red outfit with a leather jacket that had fur on the collar of it.  "You know who I am," the boy said. "I'm your friend."

Kyra was instantly relieved. "Then this is a dream," she said with a crafty smile. "Because I have no friends except for Mal." His face fell, but before he could answer, a voice boomed through the peaceful vista, darkening the skies and sending the water raging over the rocks.

"FOOLS! IDIOTS! MORONS!" it thundered.

Mal and Kyra awoke with a start.

Mal's mother was yelling at her subjects from the balcony again. Scar and Maleficent ran the Isle of the Lost the way she did everything with fear and loathing, not to mention a healthy supply of minions. Mal and Kyra were used to the shouting, but it made for a seriously rude awakening. Their heart was still pounding from their nightmare as they kicked off the purple and yellow satin covers.

What on earth was she doing dreaming of Auradon? What kind of dark magic had sent a handsome prince to speak to her in her sleep? When will he finally kill Simba?

Mal shook her head and shuddered, trying to blink away the horrid vision of his dimpled smile, and was comforted by the familiar sound of fearful villagers begging Maleficent to take pity on them.

She looked around her room, relieved to find she was right where she should be, in her huge, squeaky, wrought-iron bed with its gargoyles on each bedpost and velvet canopy that sagged so low, it threatened to fall on top of her. She saw Kyra and they both smiled at each other. It was always gloomy in Mal's room, just as it was always gray and overcast on the island. Her mother's voice boomed from the balcony, and the floor of her bedroom rattled, causing her violet-lacquered chest of drawers to suddenly spring open, disgorging its purple contents on the floor. When Mal decided on a color scheme, she stuck to it, and she had been drawn to the layers of gothic richness in the purple continuum. It was the color of mystery and magic, moody and dark, while not being as commonplace in popular villainswear as black. Purple was the new black, as far as Mal was concerned. Kyra was used to it as well. She would always stay with Mal and Maleficent wouldn't mind if she did. Scar and the Hyenas had other plans anyway.

They crossed the room past her grand, uneven armoire that prominently displayed all of her freshly shoplifted baubles trinkets of cut glass and paste, shiny metallic scarves with trailing strands. mismatched gloves and a variety of empty perfume bottles. Pushing the heavy curtains aside, from her window she could see the whole island in all its dreariness.

Home, freak home.

The Isle of the Lost was not a very large island; some would say it was but a speck or a blight on the landscape, certainly more brown than green, with a collection of tin-roofed and haphazardly constructed shanties and tenements built on top of one another and more or less threatening to collapse at any moment.