The Sisters' Mark

Somewhere deep within the forests of Denmark, 13th of November 1986

In the stillness of the night, an explosion tore through a solitary manor hidden deep within the forest. The shockwave shuddered through the walls before dissolving into the cold earth beyond the low stone fence, as though the ground itself had swallowed it whole. Silence fell again just as suddenly as it had been broken. Heavy footsteps followed. A door slammed shut. These sounds that came after the blast seemed to seal away all evidence of what had happened within the dark stone walls of the manor. The house stood as though lifeless, its dark windows and tightly drawn curtains bearing silent witness. Only in a single room, deep within the house, a tiny sphere of magical light flickered like a firefly, softly illuminating the bed where a little girl lay sleeping. Awakened by the tremor of magic, she blinked her drowsy eyes open and hurried toward the source of the sound. Down several flights of stairs, she went, until she stopped before the entrance to the basement. The sound of her bare feet rang sharply against the stone, echoing through the empty space. She hesitated for only a moment before reaching for the handle of the next door and was immediately swallowed by a thick cloud of dust. In the silence, her small voice rang out like thunder. “Mommy? Daddy?” Only silence answered her. When the dust finally settled, the girl saw two figures lying on the floor, a man and a woman. The man did not move. The woman’s body jerked suddenly and then fell still. With a gasp, the child rushed forward and dropped to her knees beside her. “Mommy? What’s wrong? Mommy, wake up!” The woman’s eyes flew open. Her breathing was quick, but terribly weak. Something dark and sticky spread slowly beneath her head, staining her pale hair. “Little penguin… please… listen to me very carefully,” she whispered. Her trembling hand lifted, gently brushing through the child’s hair. The girl’s sobs faltered at once, leaving only silent tears slipping down her cheeks. “Lyra… my sweet girl… forgive me… forgive me for everything…” She coughed, and her lips darkened. “Listen… Lyra… remember this… please…” Her voice faltered, but she forced herself to continue. “Your Aunt Miranda will come for you soon. She will take care of you now. Listen to her… and protect each other…” A faint flash flickered in her hand. In its place appeared a pale envelope, which she quickly slipped into the pocket of the girl’s small pyjamas. “Take this… and don’t show it to anyone. Not even your aunt. Keep it safe… and give it to Harry when you know he is ready.” Her fingers brushed the girl’s cheek, tracing a pattern known only to the two of them. “Remember… your father and I love you more than life itself…” Her hand stilled. Then fell. Never to move again. A single tear slipped down her cheek and shattered against the stone floor. “Mommy? …Mom? What’s wrong? Mommy, why won’t you wake up?... ” The girl cried and cried, unaware of anything around her. She did not notice the way several strands of her hair slowly began to lose their colour, turning pale, then silver. One of them fell across her eyes, but she did not see it. She did not notice the gentle yet firm arms that wrapped around her. Only when she was lifted from the cursed basement did she struggle, trying to break free, desperate to stay, hoping her mother would wake. But the world around her dulled. Darkened. And at last, she slipped into a restless void. Miranda, that was the name of the woman who had come for Lyra, had lost too much that night. Grief echoed in every movement, yet she did not slow her pace, determined to leave before those who had attacked returned to finish what they had started. Stepping over the stone boundary, Miranda turned sharply and vanished into the night air, Lyra held tightly in her arms. The moment its young mistress disappeared, the silent manor seemed to sink slightly, as though releasing a sorrowful breath. Then, slowly, it faded. Vanishing from sight. Hiding itself away from prying eyes, until better days would come.