Lyra's POV
I wake up on cold stone.
My head pounds like someone's hammering nails into my skull. I blink up at an unfamiliar ceiling—rough wooden beams, not my cottage. Where am I?
"Easy. Don't move too fast."
The voice is deep, careful, and completely unknown. I turn my head and immediately regret it as pain spikes behind my eyes.
The man from the street is crouched beside me. Up close, he's even more intimidating—tall and muscular with storm-gray eyes that study me like I'm a puzzle he can't solve. A jagged scar runs from his left temple to his jaw. His dark hair is tied back, and he looks like he's been in a hundred fights and won them all.
I should be terrified. Instead, that strange feeling of recognition pulses through me again.
"Who are you?" My voice comes out scratchy.
"Commander Kade Asheron." He says it simply, like his name should mean something. "You collapsed. I carried you to the healer's house."
I try to sit up, and his hand immediately moves to steady me—then stops inches from my arm, like he's afraid to touch me. That's when I notice his other hand is clenched in a fist, knuckles white.
"Your mark," he says quietly. "It reacted to me."
I look down at my wrist. The curse mark is still glowing, brighter than ever, but the pain has faded to a dull throb. The silver lines have spread further up my arm, almost to my elbow now.
Terror claws at my throat. "It's never done that before. What's happening to me?"
Kade's jaw tightens. For a moment, I think he's going to tell me something important. But then he stands abruptly, putting distance between us.
"I don't know," he lies.
I can see it in his face—he's hiding something. Something big.
"You're a terrible liar," I tell him.
His lips twitch, almost like he wants to smile but has forgotten how. "So I've been told."
Before I can press him further, the door bursts open and Seris rushes in, her dark hair flying wild around her face.
"Lyra! I heard what happened—" She freezes when she sees Kade, her eyes narrowing dangerously. "Who are you, and why is my best friend on the floor?"
"I'm fine, Seris." I stand up slowly, testing my legs. They hold. "This is Commander Asheron. He helped me."
"Helped you pass out, more like." Seris moves to my side, glaring at Kade like he's personally responsible for every bad thing that's ever happened to me. "What did you do?"
"Nothing." Kade's voice is flat, emotionless. But his eyes flick to me again, just for a second, and I see something raw in them. Something that looks like pain. "I was investigating memory thefts in the area. I heard Lyra might be able to help since she knows the local memory keepers."
"Memory thefts?" I repeat. "Here? In Thornhaven?"
"Three cases in the past month." Kade's back in soldier mode now, all business. "People losing memories they never agreed to give up. The pattern suggests someone is stealing specific information."
My stomach drops. Memory theft is one of the worst crimes imaginable. Memories aren't just thoughts—they're who we are. Stealing them is like stealing someone's soul.
"I haven't heard about this," I say slowly.
"That's because the victims don't remember being victims," Kade replies. "They don't know what they've lost until someone points out the gaps."
The room suddenly feels too small. I back toward the door, needing air, needing space from this stranger who makes my curse mark burn and my heart race for reasons I can't explain.
"I need to go home," I manage.
Seris is immediately at my side. "I'll walk you."
Kade moves like he's going to follow, then stops himself. "I'll need to speak with you tomorrow. About the investigation."
It's not a request.
I nod because I don't trust my voice, and let Seris guide me outside.
The walk home is silent. Seris knows me well enough not to push, but I can feel the questions vibrating off her. When we reach my cottage, she finally speaks.
"That man is dangerous, Lyra."
"I know."
"No, I mean—" She grabs my arm gently, her eyes serious. "I've seen men like him before. Warriors who carry too many secrets. He looked at you like you're already dead and he's just waiting for it to happen."
Her words send ice through my veins. "What are you talking about?"
"I don't know. But promise me you'll be careful around him. Something about this whole thing feels wrong."
I promise, even though I'm not sure I can keep it. Because the truth is, as terrifying as Kade Asheron is, part of me wants to run toward him instead of away.
That night, I don't sleep. Can't sleep. I sit by my window, staring at my curse mark as it pulses with steady silver light.
"Find me in every lifetime."
Those words keep echoing in my head. Where did they come from? Whose voice was that?
And why did it feel like a promise?
Just before dawn, I give up on sleep and head to my shop early. Maybe work will distract me. Maybe helping someone else preserve their memories will make me forget—for just a little while—how empty my own past is.
But when I round the corner to Market Street, I freeze.
My shop door is wide open.
I didn't leave it open. I never leave it open.
My heart hammering, I creep forward. The morning is too quiet. No birds singing. No neighbors stirring. Just the sound of my own breathing and the crunch of my boots on the street.
I peer through the doorway.
The shop is destroyed.
Shelves are overturned. Crystals are shattered across the floor—years of preserved memories, gone, destroyed. The devastation makes me want to cry.
But that's not what makes my blood run cold.
Written on my wall in something dark and gleaming are five words:
WE KNOW WHAT YOU ARE.
My curse mark explodes with pain.
I stumble backward and crash into something solid. Hands grip my shoulders, and I spin, ready to scream—
It's Kade.
His face is hard as stone as he stares at the message on my wall. "When did this happen?"
"I don't know. I just got here. I—" My voice breaks. "All those memories. People trusted me with their most precious moments and someone just—"
"This wasn't about the memories." Kade's voice is deadly quiet. He releases me and steps into the shop, examining everything with sharp, calculating eyes. "This was about you."
"What?" My hands are shaking. "Why would anyone—"
"Because you're not just a memory keeper, Lyra." He turns to face me, and the look in his eyes makes my knees weak. "You're something much more dangerous. And whoever did this knows it."
"I don't understand. I'm nobody. I'm just—"
"You're not nobody." He takes a step toward me, and despite everything—the fear, the confusion, the terror—that pull between us grows stronger. "Three years ago, you appeared in this village with no past and a curse mark powerful enough to make even the most skilled magic users nervous. Don't you think that's strange?"
"Of course it's strange! But I don't know why. I don't know anything!"
"Maybe." His eyes bore into mine. "Or maybe you know everything, and you just can't remember."
Before I can respond, something catches my eye. A crystal, still intact, sitting on my counter. It wasn't there before. I know every crystal in this shop, and that one doesn't belong.
I reach for it with trembling fingers.
The moment I touch it, the crystal flares to life, and a voice—ancient and cold—fills my mind:
"The girl with no past has a future written in blood. Return what you stole, Lyria, or watch everyone you love die screaming."
Lyria. Not Lyra.
Lyria.
The crystal shatters in my hand. Blood drips from my palm where the shards cut deep.
I look up at Kade in horror. "They called me Lyria. But that's not my name. My name is—"
"I know what they called you," Kade interrupts, his face pale. "And if they know that name, we're both in more danger than I thought."
"Why? Who is Lyria?"
Kade's expression breaks, just for a second, and I see devastating grief flash across his face.
"She was someone I loved," he whispers. "And she died in my arms two hundred years ago."
The world tilts.
Two hundred years.
Loved.
Died.
I back away from him, shaking my head. "That's impossible. I'm twenty-five. I'm not—I can't be—"
"Your body is twenty-five," Kade says, and now his voice is rough with emotion he can't hide anymore. "But your soul? Your soul is ancient. And someone just declared war to get it back."