The Calling

- Lyra's POV -

A twig snapped behind me.

My heart jolted so hard that it hurt. My whole body froze as if the night itself held its breath.

I spun fast.

The crooked-smile man stepped out of the trees like the darkness belonged to him. His grin stretched too wide, eyes glinting sharp like knives. Behind him, the others melted from the shadows, spreading out until they blocked every path I could run to.

"Thought you could run?" His voice was slow, cruel. He spoke like he already owned me. "The chase made it better. Now come quietly, little lamb."

I shook my head hard, stepping back until my heel struck a rock. My voice broke when I spoke. "Please... I don't want trouble. I don't even know who I am."

He walked closer, grin twisting wider across his face. "You'll know soon enough."

His hand shot forward, fingers locking around my arm... hard, like iron.

I screamed, twisting, pulling, but he yanked me close until his breath was hot against my cheek.

"You're ours now," he whispered like it was the sweetest thing in the world.

"Let go!" My nails dug into his skin until blood spilled, but he didn't even flinch. He only laughed that made my stomach knot with dread.

His grip tightened until pain exploded through my arm and I almost cried out.

"Such spirit," he said like he enjoyed it. "We'll enjoy breaking you."

"Enough."

The voice came from one of the bigger men. He stepped forward, face like carved stone, eyes flat and cold. "Boss said untouched. She brings more money that way."

The crooked-smile man glared, jaw tightening like he hated being told what to do. Then he shoved me hard into the dirt instead of hitting me.

"Fine," he spat. "We take her to the boss."

Before I could crawl away, rough hands gripped my arms... hard, bruising fingers that felt nothing for my pain.

I kicked. I twisted. I fought.

But there was no mercy in them.

Rope bit into my wrists, tearing skin until it burned.

"Walk," the biggest one snapped. His voice was like a slap. "Or we drag you."

I stumbled to my feet, legs trembling. The crooked-smile man grabbed the rope and yanked hard. When I moved too slow, he jerked me forward like I was nothing but cargo.

Suddenly, the sky growled above us.

A low, rolling thunder stretched across the mountains, it was different than before. The men stopped for half a breath, glancing at the dark sky through the trees.

The crooked-smile man clicked his tongue. "Storm's coming faster. Move!"

Another man muttered under his breath, "Feels wrong tonight."

"Shut it," the leader snapped. "Boss doesn't pay us to get scared of the weather."

They dragged me forward. The wind picked up, shaking branches.

The thunder rolled again, closer this time, like something heavy moved through the clouds.

One man glanced back toward the forest. His eyes narrowed. "Feels like something's watching."

"Then let it watch," the crooked-smile man said. He grinned without humor. "We're getting paid."

I stumbled again. One man yanked me up so hard I cried out.

The crooked-smile man smirked. "Move. Before the boss gets angry."

The thunder cracked louder, rattling the trees. Even the men fell silent for a moment.

Then they pulled me harder, faster, as if the storm was chasing us... The grip of the rope hurt, my body ached all over... I'm scared, I don't know what to do... I don't think I could escape.

My heart pounded so loud it drowned my own thoughts.

Maybe I would never see home again.

Maybe I would never even know who... I was.

Anyone... Someone... Please, help me.

Only I could plead on my mind as a tear fell out of my eyes.

Suddenly, another crack of thunder shook the ground. The men flinched this time.

One cursed. "This storm's wrong. Feels like the sky's... warning us."

The leader's jaw tightened. "Sky doesn't talk. Move."

But none of them looked comfortable as the thunder kept following us...

- Third Person POV -

In a torch-lit hallway, a servant walked toward the young master's chamber carrying news he wished someone else would deliver. His hands shook. His throat felt tight.

Everyone feared the dangerous man whom they called a.. monster.

He was young, but there was something in his golden eyes that made the elders look away. Something cold. Something too old for his face.

The servant paused at the door. Behind it, silence waited.

He knocked softly.

"Come in."

The voice was dark, but calm. Too calm.

The servant pushed the door open.

A man stood by the window, tall and straight, his broad shoulders filling the space like he owned it. His dark hair fell across his face, but it couldn't hide the sharp look in his gold eyes. Even in the torchlight, those eyes seemed to glow faintly, steady and cold. Something about the way he stood made it clear... he was strong, dangerous, and not someone you wanted to mess with.

He didn't turn when the servant stepped in.

"M-My lord, Your Highness," the servant began, voice unsteady. "The witches... they whisper tonight. The wolves refuse to hunt... And-and the forest groans like it fears something."

Thunder rolled again, rattling the glass windows.

The man said nothing.

The servant swallowed. He hated the silence more than words. "They say... something woke in the mountains. Something not ours."

Finally, the young man turned.

The torchlight hit his face... showing sharp features clear in the glow.

The servant almost stepped back.

His voice was dark when he spoke, but it cut through the air like steel. "I know."

The servant bowed low, hoping he hid his fear well enough.

Another crack of thunder made the walls shake.

The man just looked past him, back toward the dark mountains.

His chest tightened.

It felt like the air itself was calling to him... like the night whispered for him alone.

Like a presence reached for him across the miles, voiceless but loud enough to fill his veins.

He didn't understand it... his heart just pounding, unexplainably.

But he knew one thing.

It felt like fate itself was calling for him... for a purpose.