Day 0

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Lyra flung the tarot cards across the cheap motel room, incensed by their uselessness. The tarot reading had been a last-ditch attempt to assist Jake magically in this investigation. He was convinced that Michael Hanson was the kidnapper, but she had an uneasy feeling that it wasn't the case.

A man in his sixties who had been missing for nearly a decade seemed an unlikely kidnapper of two adults. Especially since one of the missing was Richy, a man of considerable size, that was moved from where was attacked in the forest.

Lyra's instincts told her that they were looking in the wrong direction. And her instincts, unlike her magic, were rarely off-course.

She was a witch. But she did not a powerful one; her spells failed as often as they worked. She had no coven or mentor to teach her. Therefore, Lyra learned on her own, and sources of knowledge were sparse, often conflicting, and often inaccurate. She was born a witch, but the craft did not come naturally to her.

She hid her practice from everyone, because even in these modern days where people claimed open-mindedness, the stigma remained. Politicians wove in mentions of their Christian god in their speeches. Human rights were denied for reasons that stank of religious morality (so much for the separation of church and state). Even in this "woke" society, Lyra was an outcast.

So, she kept her own counsel, living as a shadow of herself in public. But she loved Jake, and would do anything for him. Her one successful spell bound her to him emotionally. This way, she could sense when he was in danger or hurt, and help him if needed.

Lyra performed the soul-binding when Jake went into hiding. She had been mad with worry and couldn't take wondering whether he was safe. Knowing that he was alive, even though she could tell that he was scared and stressed, gave her the peace of mind to continue with Hannah's case in his absence.

She had also checked into a rat-trap motel just outside of town. It didn't break her promise to him to stay out of Duskwood, but also kept her close in the event she was needed.

And when Jake came back online, she felt he was nearby. Her heart knew exactly where he was. Lyra said nothing to him about this, but she wanted to go to him so badly. She was afraid of accidentally getting him arrested and what he would think of her when he met her, so she stayed away.

And now Jake was in the mines, trying to find Hannah and Richy. She sat helplessly, monitoring her phone and writing with him when he was able. Then events occurred in quick succession. First, Jake made a confession to her.

Jake: Lyra, I love you.

Lyra bit her bottom lip as hot, stinging tears welled in her eyes. She had never considered herself lovable.

On the outside, she was too soft of a figure; more in the style of a plump woman from a Renaissance painting than a coveted Beyonce silhouette. Her dark eyes were a bit too close together, her nose was longer than she liked, her mouth was small, and her face was round, not oval.

Her hair was neither straight nor curly, which left her exasperated and typically resulted in relegating it to a long braid or a bun. Her locks were brown, like her eyes; a middling, nondescript shade that held no excitement or appeal.

She could go on and on about her faults, her lacking. And it wasn't only her that believed this; it was evidenced in how people she hoped to connect with blazed past her without a glance, not even a polite smile.

On the inside, Lyra felt equally bland. She scraped through high school, never graduating. College was in her rearview after a single, excruciating semester. Lyra felt that it was not only the mundane subject matters and their presentation that were the problem, but also her own mind and its inability to hold onto information for more than a brief moment.

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