The woman was tall and regal, her silver hair, streaked with streaks of midnight blue, cascading down her back like a waterfall. She wore a long, flowing robe of deep indigo, embroidered with intricate symbols that shimmered with an inner light. But it was her eyes that captivated Luna – piercing emerald green, flecked with gold, they held a depth of knowledge and a quiet power that both intimidated and intrigued her.
"Who are you?" Luna asked, her voice barely a whisper, her hand still clutching the silver pendant. Despite the woman's seemingly gentle demeanor, Luna couldn't shake off a feeling of unease, a prickling sensation on the back of her neck that spoke of a power beyond her comprehension.
The woman smiled, a slow, enigmatic curve of her lips. "My name is Lyra," she said, her voice a melodic counterpoint to the rustling leaves. "And I believe you have something that belongs to me."
Luna instinctively took a step back, her fingers tightening around the pendant. "I don't know what you're talking about," she said, her voice gaining a touch of defiance. "I haven't taken anything from you."
Lyra's smile widened, revealing a glint of sharp, white teeth. "Not you, child," she said, her gaze unwavering. "The one who came before you. The one whose magic you now wield."
Confusion warred with apprehension in Luna's chest. "My grandmother?" she asked, her brow furrowing. "What could she possibly have taken from you?"
"A promise," Lyra replied, her voice dropping to a near whisper, the air around them growing heavy with unspoken tension. "A debt that must be repaid."
Luna's mind raced, trying to make sense of the woman's cryptic words. What promise could Esmeralda have possibly made to this enigmatic stranger? And what did it have to do with her, with the prophecy, with the looming threat of the Hawthornes?
As if reading her thoughts, Lyra stepped closer, her emerald eyes boring into Luna's. "The Hawthornes are but a symptom, child," she said, her voice low and urgent. "A single thread in a tapestry of darkness that threatens to engulf this town, this world. Your grandmother understood this. She knew the price that had to be paid to maintain the balance."
Luna's breath caught in her throat. "What price?" she whispered, her fear giving way to a chilling certainty that she was standing on the precipice of a truth far greater, and far more dangerous, than she could have ever imagined.
Lyra's gaze softened, a flicker of sympathy in her emerald eyes. "The price of power, child," she said, her voice barely audible above the rustling leaves. "And the burden of choice."
YOU ARE READING
The Reluctant Witch of Willow Creek ( Book 1)
Spiritual( BOOK #1) In the quaint, whisper-thin town of Willow Creek, where secrets bloom like wildflowers and magic lingers in the morning mist, Luna Bellwether lives a life decidedly un-magical. Surrounded by her eccentric, spell-casting family, Luna prefe...
