The next morning, I woke up to the faint smell of something warm and earthy.
The light filtering into the cottage was strange — soft, almost golden, like dawn... but too still. Too quiet. I rubbed my eyes and sat up, squinting at the window.
It looked like sunrise, but somehow... it wasn't. The sky outside didn't shift. The trees weren't casting longer shadows. Everything just stayed bathed in that eerie early-morning glow.
The cottage looked different in daylight — not better, just... less scary. The cracks in the walls were still there, the stone still cold, but it didn't feel like it was pressing down on me anymore.
"Is it… morning?" I asked out loud.
Lyra, already standing near the hearth stirring something in a small iron pot, glanced back at me. "Technically, yes."
"Technically?" I scoffed. "Gosh, how do you guys even tell time in this place? It looks like the sun just forgot to finish rising."
She let out a quiet laugh. "You get used to it. The light here follows no rules. Since the curse… time bends."
"That's comforting," I muttered, swinging my legs off the bed. "Not confusing at all."
I sat up slowly, rubbing my eyes. My shoulder ached faintly, and for a second, I couldn't remember why.
Then it all came rushing back — the thorns. The magic. Lyra's glowing hands. Everything she'd said about the curse, about the women, her mother…
Lyra glanced over her shoulder. "You're up.
"Yeah," I said, voice groggy. "What's that smell?"
"Root stew," she replied. "It's not much, but it'll warm you."
I stood, wobbling a little, and looked down at my shoulder. The wound was nearly gone — just faint pink marks now.
I touched it gently. "It's healed."
Lyra nodded without turning. "I told you it would."
"You did that? With magic?"
She finally looked at me, smiling faintly. "A small healing spell. I couldn't let the poison spread."
I sat on the edge of the bed. "Thank you. Really."
She handed me a small wooden bowl. "You should eat something. We've got a long way to go tomorrow."
I took it. "Right. The women. The ones taken."
Lyra's face went quiet again, but not cold. "They don't have much time."
I stared into the bowl for a moment. "Why only women?"
"The curse feeds on life — but resonance matters. Women are more likely to... connect. It's rare, but when they survive, they're bound to the land itself."
I frowned. "That sounds like slavery."
Lyra didn't argue. She just stirred her stew.
We ate in silence for a moment. Then I blinked. "Wait—my phone."
Lyra looked confused. "Your what?"
"My phone," I said again, patting my pockets, even though I already knew it was gone. "It's like… a small mirror. But it talks. And lights up."
Her brows lifted. "You lost it?"
"Yeah. I think I dropped it when I fell. Crap." I ran a hand through my hair. "It might've had a map, or a way to call for help…"
Lyra looked thoughtful. "If it's magic, the forest probably consumed it."
"It's not magic. It's tech."
She smirked. "Sounds the same to me."
I sighed. "Great. Just great."
Lyra sat beside me, not too close, just enough that I felt her presence. "Don't worry. We'll figure things out. One step at a time."
I looked at her. "Why are you helping me?"
She met my eyes. "Because no one helped my mother. And I won't stand by while more women are taken."
I didn't say anything after that. I just nodded and sipped the last of the stew.
—