The sun had barely crested the horizon when Lyra slipped out of her chambers, the ancient grimoire tucked securely under her arm. She moved silently through the winding corridors of the coven’s stronghold, her emerald eyes darting nervously from shadow to shadow. The weight of her discovery pressed heavily upon her shoulders, urging her forward despite the risk.
As she rounded a corner, a familiar voice called out, nearly causing her to drop the precious tome. “Lyra? What are you doing up so early?”
She turned to face Elara, one of the senior witches of the coven. The older woman’s silver hair was neatly braided, and her keen gray eyes studied Lyra with a mixture of curiosity and concern.
Lyra forced a smile, trying to keep her voice steady. “Good morning, Elara. I couldn’t sleep, so I thought I’d get an early start on some research.”
Elara’s gaze dropped to the grimoire in Lyra’s arms, her brow furrowing. “That book… isn’t that from the restricted section of the library?”
A chill ran down Lyra’s spine, but she maintained her composure. “Yes, it is. High Priestess Cordelia gave me special permission to study it for a project I’m working on.”
It wasn’t entirely a lie. Cordelia had indeed granted Lyra access to the restricted section, though not for the reasons she now claimed. Lyra hated deceiving her mentor, but the gravity of the prophecy demanded secrecy, at least until she could gather more information.
Elara nodded slowly, though a hint of suspicion lingered in her eyes. “I see. Well, don’t let me keep you from your studies. Just remember, Lyra, knowledge is power, but some secrets are best left undisturbed.”
With those cryptic words, Elara continued on her way, leaving Lyra to release a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. She quickened her pace, knowing that time was of the essence.
Reaching the eastern tower, Lyra climbed the winding staircase to her private workroom. It was a small, circular space filled with books, herbs, and various magical implements. A large window overlooked the dense forest surrounding the stronghold, allowing natural light to flood the room.
Lyra sealed the door with a protection spell before carefully placing the grimoire on her work table. She took a deep breath, centering herself before opening the ancient book once more.
“Alright,” she muttered to herself, “let’s see what else you can tell me about this prophecy.”
Hours passed as Lyra pored over the text, making notes and cross-referencing with other tomes from her collection. The more she uncovered, the more daunting her task seemed. The artifacts needed to prevent the apocalypse were scattered across the globe, some in locations that had long since passed into legend.
A soft knock at the door startled Lyra from her research. She quickly covered the grimoire with a cloth before removing the protection spell and opening the door. Mara stood in the hallway, her face pale with worry.
“Lyra, you need to come quickly,” Mara said, her voice hushed. “The High Council has called an emergency meeting. They’re asking for you specifically.”
Lyra’s heart raced. “Did they say why?”
Mara shook her head. “No, but Elara was there when the summons was issued. She looked… troubled.”
A sinking feeling settled in Lyra’s stomach. Had Elara’s suspicions led her to alert the Council? “Alright,” she said, trying to keep her voice steady. “Let me just tidy up here, and I’ll be right down.”
Once Mara had gone, Lyra hurriedly gathered her notes and hid them along with the grimoire in a secret compartment beneath a loose floorboard. She took a moment to compose herself, smoothing her robes and taking several deep breaths.
“You can do this,” she whispered to her reflection in a small mirror. “Just stay calm and remember what’s at stake.”
The walk to the Council chambers felt interminable. Lyra’s mind raced with possible scenarios, each more dire than the last. As she approached the massive oak doors, carved with ancient runes of power and wisdom, she steeled herself for whatever lay ahead.
The chamber fell silent as Lyra entered. Seven witches sat in a semicircle, their faces grave. At the center was High Priestess Cordelia, her ageless features set in a mask of disappointment that made Lyra’s heart clench.
“Lyra,” Cordelia spoke, her voice resonating with power. “Do you know why you’ve been summoned before the Council?”
Lyra swallowed hard, fighting to keep her voice steady. “No, High Priestess. I do not.”
Elara leaned forward, her gray eyes piercing. “Perhaps you could explain why you’ve been secretly accessing forbidden texts from the restricted section of our library?”
A murmur ran through the assembled Council members. Lyra felt a bead of sweat trickle down her spine, but she held her ground. “I was granted access to those texts for my research, High Priestess. I’ve broken no rules.”
“And yet you felt the need to lie about the nature of that research,” Cordelia said, her tone sharp. “Elara informs us that you claimed to be working on a project with my blessing. Is this true?”
Lyra’s mind raced. She could continue the lie, but doing so would only dig her deeper into trouble. Taking a deep breath, she decided to take a risk on the truth. “No, High Priestess. I apologize for my deception. The truth is, I’ve discovered something of great importance – a prophecy that foretells a coming apocalypse.”
The chamber erupted into shocked whispers. Cordelia raised a hand, silencing the room. “A prophecy? And you chose to keep this information to yourself rather than bringing it to the Council?”
“I needed time to verify the information,” Lyra explained, her voice growing stronger as she spoke. “The prophecy speaks of three signs that will herald the coming darkness. We’ve already witnessed the first – the blood moon that rose last month. If I’m correct, we have precious little time to prevent catastrophe.”
One of the other Council members, a stern-faced witch named Thora, scoffed. “Prophecies are often vague and open to interpretation. What makes you so certain this one is genuine?”
Lyra turned to face her, conviction burning in her emerald eyes. “Because the grimoire containing the prophecy was protected by a time-lock spell. It could only be read when the time was right – which is now. Furthermore, I…” she hesitated, unsure whether to reveal her encounter with Selene.
“Go on,” Cordelia urged, her expression unreadable.
Taking a deep breath, Lyra continued. “I was visited by a being who claimed to be the guardian of the prophecy. She confirmed its authenticity and… and she said that I might be the one chosen to prevent the coming darkness.”
The chamber erupted once more, this time with voices raised in disbelief and anger. Cordelia’s voice cut through the chaos like a knife. “Silence!”
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