Chapter 3 Her Father's Grave

Lyra had seen the mountain in her dreams.

It was always far away, hidden behind clouds. Mysterious. Scary.

She never thought she'd really find it.

But now

It was right in front of her.

It was huge. Bigger than she ever imagined.

The sky looked small above it.

Its dark sides were jagged, like deep scars cut into the rock.

Mist clung to the top like long fingers.

It didn't feel like a mountain.

It felt like it was watching.

As they walked closer, the forest started to change.

The light dimmed, even though the sky stayed bright.

Leaves lost their green.

Tree bark peeled away, showing pale, sick wood underneath.

Nothing moved.

No birds. No wind. No sound.

It was like the forest was holding its breath.

Lyra stepped on a branch.

It cracked sharp and dry, like bones snapping.

The air tasted strange.

Cold. Metallic.

Like breathing in something dead.

"Stop," Alexander said. He held out his arm.

The wolves behind them froze, growling low in their throats. Nervous.

Alexander stared ahead. His voice was quiet. "We're close."

Lyra walked beside him, her fingers curling around the pendant under her coat.

It belonged to her father.

She wore it every day.

It used to make her feel safe.

But lately... it felt like something was staring back at her from inside it.

Alexander's voice dropped lower. "The entrance is just ahead. It was sealed long ago-with fire, bones, and blood. It should've stayed closed forever."

Lyra's heart thudded. "But it's open now?"

He didn't answer.

The ground gave a little shake. Stones rolled under their feet.

A tree groaned somewhere nearby, like it was waking up.

Then a woman stepped from the trees.

She was barefoot. Her long white braid dragged along the ground.

Her eyes were pale and blank but somehow still aware.

She looked ahead, not at them.

"The lock is broken," she said. "Even the earth knows.

Listen."

Lyra listened.

No birds.

No wind.

No buzzing.

Nothing.

Only breathing.

Slow, steady breathing.

But not from them.

Not from anything alive.

Goosebumps rose on her arms. She shivered.

"What's in there?" she whispered.

Alexander didn't look at her. "Not what," he said. "Who."

He started walking up the hill.

Everyone followed.

The path was steep.

The rocks slid under Lyra's feet.

Mist coiled around their legs like something alive.

At the top, the trees fell away.

The mountain had opened.

Lyra stopped.

Her chest tightened.

It wasn't a cave.

It was a wound.

The earth looked torn apart, like it had been ripped open from the inside.

Sharp edges. Broken rock.

Like something had forced its way out.

Or in.

The mist inside wasn't floating.

It was crawling.

Snaking across the ground, tasting everything it touched.

Lyra wanted to stay back.

But her feet kept moving.

Alexander's voice was tense. "The barrier's gone. Now... they can come through."

Lyra held her pendant tighter. "The Forgotten?"

The pale woman nodded. "They were once with us. We left them behind.

But they remember."

A cold breath touched Lyra's face.

She flinched.

The mist moved. And under it, she saw something stone, covered in dry vines. A piece of metal glinted

She stepped forward.

"Lyra, wait Alexander said, reaching for her.

But she didn't stop.

She knelt beside the stone.

It wasn't just metal. It was a sword. Old, Black

Stuck deep in the ground like a grave marker.

She brushed the dust away.

Her chest hurt.

Something inside her whispered:

This is where your father fell.

Not his body, His promise

Without meaning to, she reached for the sword.

Her hand wrapped around the hilt.

It was cold. Sharp

Everything around her disappeared.

She saw him. Her father, standing in the mist, wounded, bleeding, and tired

Fire burned behind him.

Wolves howled.

Shadows closed in.

He was sealing something.

Giving everything he had.

Tears filled her eyes.

She let go of the sword, gasping.

"He did it," she whispered. "He locked them away."

Alexander nodded. "Yes. And now... It's pen again."

The mist rippled.

Something moved in the dark.

Slow, silent, tall, it didn't walk, it floated.

Two red eyes glowed.

Lyra stepped back.

Her heart pounded in her chest.

It knew her. Somehow, it had always known her.

It had been in her dreams.

It had followed her here.

The pendant burned hot against her skin, then went ice cold.

She tore it off and dropped it. The figure moved closer.

Alexander pulled his sword.

"Lyra," he said. "You have to choose. Run... or fight."

Lyra stared at the sword in the stone.

It wasn't rusted from rain.

It had bled.

She grabbed the hilt.

Pulled hard.

It came free.

The ground trembled.

The mist screamed.

Lyra stood tall.

Her hands were shaking.

Her heart was on fire.

"I'm not running," she said.

And the thing in the mist came for her.