Lyra (Based on CT's FF:DD RPG) - Chapter Three

[Samchu]

I figured it was about time that I started submitting some work in here so here's my (possibly extended into the next year) NanoWrimo project.

Lyra
Chapter One

Rain dripped from the corner of a burnt-out rooftop, captured a glimmer of daylight in its belly, and fell to the ground. Lyra watched it crash before her toes, adding to the puddle of murky liquid forming in front of her feet. She’d been watching it grow all day; ever since her siblings had left her there in the downpour. It had been a different place then, a blackened slum turned grey by the downpour’s mist, set out on the face of a sheet of pristine glass. Only shards remained now, scattered across the uneven stone.

A trader struggled with his cart in the distance. The rotting wood bobbled and creaked as he half-pushed, half-carried it across the dampened ground. A sudden shudder sent his mound of goods tumbling. Most of them landed safely in the cart but some fell just beyond its boundaries and clattered to the floor. He looked around, eyes wide, body twitching, like a rat on the hunt from a predator. The hairs of his moustache twitched and he took off, scuttling from item to item, scooping them into the cradle he’d made from his arm.

He didn’t see Lyra run up beside him or pick up a rusted pocket-watch that had rolled under the cart and used its shadow to hide from him. She took the browning metal in her hand and tapped the trader on the shoulder. He spun round and his eyes widened at the sight of her holding his possession. His forehead wrinkled as his eyebrows raced to meet head on. He looked like he wasn’t sure whether Lyra was going to hit him, or he was going to hit her first.

“You dropped this,” she said.

He glanced at the watch and then at Lyra. He scanned the length of her body, eyes darting at every flinch, as if he suspected foul play. Finally, he held out his hand. “Thank you."

Lyra returned the watch and ran back to her waiting spot.

The chimes of the bell tower echoed through the empty streets. Then came the familiar voices; the high-pitched excitement and the stoic praise that followed it. Her brothers had arrived.

“First again,” said Cole with a grin that made her shiver from more than the cold. He walked up to her and bent to meet her eyes. “Get anything good?”

“Get anything at all?” added Fin, a similar smirk plastered across his own face.

Lyra bit her lip and took a step back into the shadows of the house.

“Hey!” Cole’s hand smacked her shoulder. “I asked you a question.”

Lyra’s attention shot to the floor and stayed there. She tried to find the strength to answer him but all of her energy seemed to be stuck in her legs, making them quiver like homeless dogs in the winter. Nothing. She repeated the word over and over in her mind, as though the very thought of it would grant her enough courage to say it out loud. Nothing. Nothing, nothing, nothing…

He had her pinned against the wall so fast that she didn’t know he had done it until pain began to resonate through her spine.

“Lyra,” his voice was a low growl.

“Nothing,” she whispered.

He wanted to hit her, she could tell by the way the air moved and tensed between them, but he didn’t. He couldn’t with Hayden standing between them.

The youngest sibling stared up at his brother with a courage Lyra could only wish she possessed. There was a clash of blue eyes, a silent war played out between sets of navy until Hayden said, “no being mean to Lyra. She’s family too.”

“And family looks out for one another. Don’t they Cole?” Lyra hadn’t realised that her sister had arrived until she heard her voice, and from the way Cole’s hands dug a little harder into her shoulders, he hadn’t realised it either.

He snorted and let go of Lyra. “Tell her that. We stay hungry ‘cause she won’t steal.”

Shayna took her little sister and hugged her. “She’ll learn,” she lied.

Cole and Fin shook her heads. Lyra would have too if she’d had strength enough to dare to. She hadn’t stolen a thing in her life. She knew they were poor, she knew they would starve without the money her siblings stole and her parents conned from the upper classes but being a thief was something that Lyra just couldn’t do. And they all knew that.

“Everybody made it safe again today. I’m glad.”

Hayden ran to his mother with a grin that threatened to swallow both his cheeks. He pulled out the purse that he’d been hiding beneath his rags and bounced it with his palm so that the jagged edges near the base jumped up and down. It was a small steal, worth little more than a few scraps of bread, but it was his first solo theft and he was proud of it.

“We can all feed ourselves now,” muttered Cole. “You want us to keep suffering for her?” He nudged Fin’s arm and the two of them wandered over to their mother.

“Don’t worry,” said Shayna, still holding her sister. “No matter what happens, I’ll protect you.”

They waited until their brothers were sent home and just the Xanthrope women remained in the darkening streets.

Lyra wriggled deep into her mother’s embrace and clung to the skirt of her dress as she fought against herself to keep back her tears. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry.” Kara worked her fingers through the knots in her daughter’s hair. “You and I are just a little bit different, aren’t we? I have my red hair and you have your principles.”

Lyra looked at her mother, frowning at the word she didn’t recognise. She tried saying it aloud but fumbled over the memory of it.

“Principles,” her mother said again. “It means you’re going to do great things one day. You’re going to be the one responsible for getting us out of the slums.”

“Really?”

The smiled that followed could have convinced the devout to turn against their religions. “Really.”

Lyra thanked her mother with a grasp that almost toppled her.

“Can we go home now?” asked Shayna.

Kara held both her daughters close to her. “I thought we’d go for a walk, just us girls.”

It was rare for them to get the chance to spend any time alone with either of their parents and although both of them were hungry and eager to get home to their dinner, their agreed to their mother’s request instantly.

Kara smiled and pulled the scarf from her shoulders. She wrapped it around her daughters, locking them together with the worn fabric. It pained her that she could only do this much. The darkening skies were pulling with them the chills of late winter. Wealthier families would be out buying their children thick coats to protect them against the harsh elements but Kara could do nothing for her children. They could be warm and starve or eat and be cold. There was no middle ground. Not for this family.

Lyra couldn’t see the worry on her mother’s face as they walked the lower city streets nor did she hear in each of her mother’s deep, heart-filled sighs, the worry that one of their clan might not survive the coming winter. She skipped down the uneven paths, her mind filled with the happy thoughts of the ‘great things’ she might one day accomplish and the looks on her family’s faces when they told her how proud of her. Lyra Xanthrope, hero of the year, saviour of the Xanthrope family .She imagined handing her father a key to a house that towered over them, with glass in the windows and new paint of the walls. She had visions of shopping with her mother and the two of them buying nice shoes to wear when they went walking in the rain. She would walk to school with her siblings and they would play with the other children afterwards. They would have games of tag and Cole would always win because he was the fastest and when the girls asked him why he was so fast, he would tell them of their past and of how Lyra had saved them. Then the children would gather round her and tell how good she had been and how lucky they were to have a friend like her. She smiled and snuggled deeper into the scarf. Having friends would be wonderful.

Shayna spotted two red balls hanging from the door of a nearby house. “Look Mum,” she said, pointing towards them, “they already have their Theonian decorations up.”

“They must have just moved here from the Upper Circle. They put their decorations up a month in advance instead of a week, like we do.”

“Why?”

“Well, because the Upper Classes like to have competitions to see who can make the nicest displays so that the Gods will favour their family. So, as soon as the shop keepers start selling decorations, everyone rushes out to buy the best ones.”

“But we can’t do that, can we?”

Kara shook her head.

“Why can’t we?” asked Lyra. She
had never grasped the extent of the Upper and Lower Class divide the way that Shayna had.

“Because we get the leftovers,” Shayna replied, with a bitter ‘humph!’ at the end.

Lyra looked to her mother for an explanation, her sister’s words having only confused her more. What does food have to do with Theonian decorations?

“A week before Theonia; all the shop keepers in the Upper Circle sell the decorations that they have left to the shop keepers in the Lower Circle.”

“So…” Lyra began, thinking hard, “we can only buy our decorations a week before Theonia?”

“Didn’t you notice?”

Lyra shook her head at her sister. She had never been out shopping for the family and when they went out on the steal, Lyra spent most of her time sitting in the street or exploring abandoned buildings. She hardly ever saw shops, let alone what was inside of them.

“But it’s good for us,” said Kara, hoping to raise her children’s spirits. “Because we get them last, they’re cheaper, so we can buy more food and still have nice decorations. That’s why your father insists on waiting until the eve of Theonia, so that he can buy something really special for us to eat.”

“Maybe we should buy nice decorations instead of nice food. Maybe the Gods will favour us instead and we can go back to living in the Upper Circle.”

Kara embraced her daughters. “I don’t need the Gods’ favour or a nice house or lots of money. I have everything I want right here.”

The two girls returned their mother’s gesture and the three continued walking. Kara walked behind them, a mixture of hope and sadness twisting within her. She had never told her children why they had been forced to leave the Upper Circle; she didn’t want to ruin the dreams they had of it, not whilst they were still young enough to believe in them. Kara could never return to the Upper Circle but there was still hope for her children, so she encouraged them with stories of warm winters and large banquets. One day they will forget the sadness and hardships of this world. Gods grant them that much.

They turned a corner and a door beside them banged open. Lyra felt the panic in her mother’s hands as she pulled her two children out of the way. A jumble of limbs shot past their faces and crashed into a pile of broken crates. With a groan it rolled onto its stomach and lifted itself onto its knees, spitting as it slurred curses back into the dimly lit doorway.

“No money, no service,” shouted a voice from inside.

“She took my money,” he retorted as he slipped back onto his rear. “Damn red-head got every penny off of me.”

Lyra couldn’t resist her mother’s pulls as Kara tried to drag them both back into the other street but neither could she take her eyes off of the man sat just a few feet away from her. He was wobbling, eyes glazed and ghostlike as he stared up at the sky, an empty bottle clutched in his left hand.

“It smells.”

Those ghost-eyes were on them in an instant and Lyra saw something in them change, as though the fogs of drunkenness had suddenly parted ways to make way for something else, something dark and sinister. She grabbed her sister’s hand.

“Get out of here. Go, both of you.”

Lyra had never heard her mother talk that way. Shayna had to pull her all the way from their mother’s side before the younger sister could take her eyes off of her.

“We have to get dad.”

Lyra could barely hear her sister speak. The sound of heated voices had filled the street. Shop owners began boarding their windows to keep out the sound of the fight. Lyra strained her ears to make out what was being said but she couldn’t.

“Lyra? Are you listening to me? We have to get help.”

“But-”

There was a scream. Lyra wrestled against the scarf, desperate to loosen the fabric from around her neck. She needed to get to her mother; she needed to make sure that she was alright and that the man in the alley hadn’t done anything to hurt her. Above all else, she had to protect her. Because this was the slums, and no one else would help her. The scarf from her shoulders and she was gone before it touched the floor. She rounded the corner and froze; her body unable to comprehend what it was seeing. Mum! The voice in her head screamed but Lyra was silent. Mum! Gods, no! Mum! Mum! She saw the man at her mother’s side stumbling; her hand was clasped tightly around his ankle.

“Gods damn you!” he launched his foot into her face. Lyra felt the blow in her stomach. Her mother released her grip on her attacker’s ankle.

The scene before her faded into colours, a mess of black and red and grey. And the red spreading, engulfing everything like a starving beast, gorging on the greys and blacks until it was the only thing that remained. Something within Lyra stirred, ancient and primitive, instinctual almost, like a voice in her head that she couldn’t ignore. She launched herself forward and grabbed his arm, digging into the bare flesh with her teeth. He yelped with pain and tried to shake her off but she would not yield. Liquid touched her chin, blood or sweat she didn’t know but it only made her bite harder.

He grabbed a fistful of her hair and pulled until she cried out, releasing him from her hold. Bloodied glass pierced her arm and he threw her back against the wall of the bar. She ran at him again but he only knocked her back. Again she attacked and again and again, but every time he was waiting for her, every time he would send her back with either a fist or a foot. But she would not give up. She continued to fight, pointless as she knew it was, until her body refused to obey her and she could do nothing but slump against the wall, her limbs shivering and numb. It was his turn to come at her; the man with the predator’s grin and the killer’s eyes. He’d had a taste for her blood and he wanted more.

She watched him shuffle closer. The dull streams of moonlight bounced off the jagged glass in his hand, illuminating the spots of blood still clinging to the murky material. Darkness seeped in to her vision. Soon the street was gone, then her mother, and finally the man before her. All she could see was the blood – hers and her mother’s – the last connection the two of them would ever share. Something in her started to cry out but the words never found their way to her lips. Please, let me die with her. I don’t…I don’t want to die alone…

Shapes without edges moved across her vision. She heard a rumble like thunder in the distance and the smash of breaking glass. A shadow passed before her and for a moment Lyra thought she heard a distant voice calling to her. But then the silence came, and the darkness, and she slipped silently into its hold.