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"Midsummer's Tournament

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"Midsummer's Tournament.

Challenge 3. Obsidian Lake.

Don't give your mother too much trouble.

Focus on your footwork.

I love you."

Lyra's vibrant emerald green eyes smoldered with a multitude of emotions as she read and re-read the little scroll containing the familiar, albeit hurried scrawl of the man that had made her life hell. 

Anger. Anguish. Nostalgia. Hope. Happiness.

Lyra's anger and anguish were justified. She fell to the damp, dewy forest floor, landing on her knees. Unable to hold back anymore, shoulders heaving, she completely let go of her emotions and felt the tears roll down her face.

Happiness and hope, however, were feelings Lyra had almost forgotten. They surprised her. They shouldn't have. After all, she had just received a confirmation that he was still alive and had been presented an opportunity to see him and fix everything wrong in her life.

A calm breeze washed over Lyra. The soft wind cooling the sweat on her fatigued body, refreshing and reinvigorating her will. She looked up at the dark, moody sky and for the first time in over a year, the edges of Lyra's lips twitched upwards.

 A bubbling sensation built up in her stomach, travelling up her body until she could no longer hold it in.

The clouds grumbled, as if they were scolding her for crying, and the rain washed away her tears. 

The feeling escaped as unrestrained, full-blown, joyful laughter.

~ Present Day ~

Lyra observed that her tendency to lash out at ignorant villagers had been rapidly decreasing as she focused her energy on training. The hurtful words the villagers threw about so casually around her, or the disapproving looks they gave her as she walked about minding her own business now bothered her less than they used to. Instead of wallowing in her misery or accepting her fate, Lyra vowed to restore the honor of the Fain family name.

Lyra was the village pariah, not because of her personality, but through association. Lyra's father, Elan Fain was nothing short of a warrior prodigy and Lyra was following his footsteps.

He was the chief of the village guard, the Ironstrong, was the tactical master that helped cultivate the safe haven that Rentore was. A happy-go-lucky kind of man who got along with everyone but would be able to solidify his composure when the situation demanded it, Elan was the beloved commander of the village guards, who would have followed his every order without hesitation.

However, a year ago, after returning from a trip to the heart of the kingdom with his childhood friend, Wiktor, Elan's demeanor had completely changed. Elan had learned something that deeply troubled him. However, when probed by Lyra, he would always alter his behaviour and pretend that nothing was wrong.

As Elan's paranoia took over him, he spent more time in solitude, focusing on training and improving his physical prowess.

He seemed a little distant, until one day - out of the blue - Elan single-handedly launched a botched assassination attempt on Lord Malachi's life which almost ended up costing him his own life. 

No one, not even his family, knew why a highly respected man, with the skills and charisma to lead the village guard, would attempt to murder perhaps the richest and arguably the most influential man in Rentore.

Barely cognizant of his surroundings, Elan was described to have fled the village on the back of a wandering horse, having stolen the bright amber Dragonsoul Necklace that had been handed to Lord Malachi for safekeeping by the King himself. 

The following days were a nightmare for Lyra and her mother.

The disappearance of Elan, who was presumed dead, coupled with the scornful attitude of the villagers made life a living hell for the Fain family. Vandalism of the Fain household became rampant, Lyra often came back home one day to find her mother weeping on the front porch of the house. The windows of her house had been shattered and walls were painted with words like "scum" and "traitor".

 Livid, Lyra promised her mother that she would find Elan and make everything right again.

The full moon cast a soft glow on the forest that shielded Rentore from the rest of the world. The thick forest, laden with perils halted invaders from reaching Rentore as much as they kept the villagers from leaving the comfort of their peaceful hamlet. A plethora of treacherous trails and harsh conditions, the inhabitants of the forest had to adapt to survive. The species that were unable to adapt quickly succumbed to their fate.

 Seemingly innocuous, the inviting and lush jungle was merciless to new visitors. Mutated beasts on the prowl and carnivorous vegetation shrouded by the shadows cast by the tall trees posed innumerable dangers to unwary guests.

However, with danger lurking at every corner, the Forest of Lies was a perfect spot for training for the Midsummer's Tournament. Lyra was pleased to find that her training had been paying off. Jumping from branch to branch with the acrobatic ability of a monkey, she could feel her muscles expand and contract with each explosive leap. 

Lyra paid no heed to the howls of the white wolves assembling their packs to get ready to hunt. They could be easily chased off later with gimmicks utilizing fire.

Her target today was the elusive black panther that had been terrorizing her training grounds for the last few weeks. A hapless wildfowl caught her eye, preening its feathers, tempting her to capture it instead.

Ignoring the prey she was accustomed to taking back home for her dinner, Lyra focused on finding the paw prints that would help her track the panther had either scared off or killed the wildlife in her territory.

Killing the panther would also prove to her that she was ready to venture deeper into the forest before ultimately embarking on the journey to the tournament.

Catching the pungent smell of the panther's method of marking its territory, Lyra noticed the tracks leading out and heading towards a small clearing disturbingly close to the village. 

Incensed and motivated to end this cat-and-mouse game once and for all, Lyra sped towards the clearing, unaware of the two viridian eyes in the shadows, watching her every move...

(Chapter written by A. Rathi)

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