The Broken

Prologue

Alyra Cross isn't your typical 18 year old girl. She grew up in the small town of Greenwater in a quaint little house on the riverbank. A typical only child, Alyra was very much a loner. She much preferred to stay home and read a book over socialising, much to her mother's dismay.
Her parents, Lucille and Atticus Black, were typical middle class, her mother a lawyer and her father had some obscure job in government. Lucille and Atticus were opposite of each other, in fact, other than Alyra the only thing they had in common were their love for each other and their daughter, and their fierce ambition to climb the social ladder. Lucille spoke to anyone who would listen about her lucrative job, and the connections it gave her in society. Atticus on the other hand never spoke of his work, sometimes being gone for days on end and returning haggard and exhausted. "Don't ask, because I won't tell, Lyra." He'd always say. Alyra had her suspicions about her father's occupation, but she respected him enough to not pry, and each time he returned, more and more broken, she followed her mother's lead a greeted him with a smile, leaving him to retire to his study in peace.
It was a wet wednesday the last night he returned. The moon was full, and Alyra was in her room, painting the river. There was something therapeutic about the way it raged with the storm. The banks quivering under the pressure of the forceful cascade, the moonlight's reflection distorted in the chaos. It was late, so late in fact both Alyra and her mother hadn't expected Atticus to return till the morning, so there was none of the usual welcoming parade they'd all become accustomed to. Lyra set her brush down on the easel, and went to greet her father. He was soaked to the bone, his thick black hair stuck to his face, but he didn't seem to care.
"I know the weather is dreadful, but I couldn't wait till the morning to tell you the news." He began, stripping off his long leather trench coat and running a meaty hand through his hair. "I met with the King himself today, Luce!"
Alyra hadn't noticed her mother stood in the kitchen doorway, a cigarette dangling from her long fingers. Lucille gasped and ran to her husband and with a squeal of excitement threw herself into his arms.
"Oh my God, Atty, is this really happening?" She shrieked. The two of them laughed together, almost as though they'd forgotten they weren't alone. Alyra walked down the last few steps, standing closer to her parents. She was used to these kinds of displays of affection; there was never any doubt that her parents loved each other, but this was different.
"Dad?" Alyra said, "What's happening? Why did you meet the King?"

To be continued