Chapter 4
A Spark in the Gloom
An undeniable, forbidden attraction ignites between Lara and Lyra. Their shared power and opposing duties create a volatile, simmering tension.
The air in the shadowed meeting hall crackled with an energy that had nothing to do with the flickering oil lamps. Lara felt it coiling in her gut, a familiar, unwelcome tremor that mirrored the unease radiating from the women seated around the rough-hewn table. Lyra, perched at the head, her dark eyes like chips of obsidian, was the epicenter of this storm. She’d been speaking, her voice a low, melodic rumble, about the town’s wards, the subtle shifts in the forest’s breath, the hushed anxieties that had begun to thread through their secluded lives. But Lara heard only the echo of Lyra’s words, the way they brushed against her own skin, igniting a heat that had no business being there.
Lara shifted, the roughspun wool of her skirt scratching against her thighs. She was an outsider, a storm of wild magic in a place that prized quiet, steady currents. She’d seen the wary glances, the quick, dismissive dismissals, the way Maeve’s lips thinned whenever Lara’s gaze lingered too long on Lyra. It was foolish, this pull, this magnetic tug that drew her gaze to the sharp line of Lyra’s jaw, the way her dark hair was pulled back in a severe braid, the subtle tension in her shoulders that spoke of a weight Lara could only guess at.
“—and the veil thins,” Lyra concluded, her voice cutting through the low murmur of agreement from the other coven members. Her eyes swept across the faces, lingering for a fraction of a second too long on Lara. It was a flicker, barely perceptible, but Lara felt it like a brand. “We must be vigilant. The balance is precarious.”
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