Chapter 1
Fairhaven, Meridia
2:03 P.M.
Today was Lyra Thornewood's tenth birthday.
She had a sour expression on her face as she trotted home from school with her hands tightly clutching the straps of her backpack.
Lyra cursed the day she was born.
Two days ago during a tedious English lesson, Mrs Caldwell made the mistake of asking her what she thought about the pending event.
Truthfully, she'd told her birthdays were pointless.
She was polite when she told the teacher that the purpose of a birthday was to celebrate the significance of a person.
Although in her opinion, she continued, compared to the vast and endless universe in which they lived, people were insignificant.
Therefore birthdays were futile.
Birthdays only got a person closer to their death and death was certainly nothing to celebrate and neither was another ordinary day closer to it, cake or not.
Mrs Caldwell had commented on how dark Lyra's outlook on life was for a nine-year-old and Lyra had subsequently pointed out how naive Mrs Caldwell was for a forty-year-old woman.
Lyra was not surprised that this landed her an afterschool detention for two awfully boring hours.
School had dragged, the minutes had slowed, the hours had stretched for so long, she fear the day would never end.
Mrs Caldwell knew very well how Lyra felt about her birthdays.
Even so, her teacher had still insisted on announcing to the class that it was Lyra's birthday.
If that had not been aggravating enough, Mrs Caldwell had purposefully chosen the largest badge she could find and pinned it onto her shirt.
IT'S MY BIRDTHDAY, was printed in large, highly noticeable letters.
She glared down at it.
As much and as often as she'd tried – countless times throughout the day – Lyra was not able to remove the badge.
It was in that moment that Lyra came to the conclusion that she rather and intensely disliked Mrs Caldwell.
She heaved a sigh and with a loud grunt, she kicked a nearby tin can.
It rattled and clanked its way to the main road.
She paused to watch as passing cars rode over it, repeatedly crushing and deforming the can until it was part of the road.
Lyra sullenly continued walking.
She wondered to herself, what had she been doing this time last year?
Nothing important.
That was her life, it seemed, she never did anything of any importance.
Lyra heard the sobbing before she saw it.
Up ahead, there was a small boy jumping and scurrying about as two other boys played with a bag, gleefully throwing it to each other.
It was Ryker Flint and his weedy best friend Nolan Thorne.
Every time she saw those two, they were either harassing some child or terrorising the neighbourhood.
The smart thing to do, the coward's way, was to turn around and walk away.
It wasn't any of her business.
If she interfered, Ryker and Nolan would make sure her life was hell.
Yes, the smart thing to do, would be toturn around and walk away.
Forget the boy.
He was an idiot.
Lyra did exactly that, she turned around and walked away, she had gone several steps before she stopped and grimaced.
But she was never one to do the smart thing.
Lyra grasped at whatever scraps of courage she had left and channelled the anger she felt for Mrs Caldwell.
She stomped back towards Nolan and Ryker.
Lyra had had enough of the two hooligans, they needed to be stopped and if nobody was going to do that, then she would have to.
"Hey!" she yelled, "Stop!"
Nolan Thorne turned at the sound of her irate voice.
Unaware of the bag Ryker had thrown back to him, it smacked him right in the face.
He yelped and stumbling back, he fell onto the concrete floor.
Nolan swore as he pushed himself back up.
He rubbed the side of his head where the bag had hit him.
Ryker glared at Lyra.
"What is it pipsqueak?" Nolan said, irritating painting his features.
"I'm not a pipsqueak!" Lyra protested.
She really wasn't.
She was tallest girl in her class.
Nolan and Ryker may have been a year or two older than her, but she was the same height as them.
Lyra's eyes skipped to the small dark-haired boy, who was bent down with his hand on his knees, his breathing ragged and irregular as he coughed.
"Leave him alone," she said, not sounding as confident as she hoped.
Ryker laughed and pointed to the large badge pinned onto her shirt, "is it your birthday?"
"No," she lied.
"Aw," Nolan cooed, "you're ten years old today!"
The small boy was wheezing awfully loud now.
"I doubt your drug addict mum is even aware of what day it is let alone that's your birthday," Ryker said.
Nolan laughed and they turned to high-five each other.
"Shut up!" Lyra hissed, "she's not a drug addict!"
"No," Nolan nodded seriously at her, "she's not just a drug addict but also a prostitute!
The amount of men coming out of your house every hour is ridiculous."
Lyra grit her teeth.
Her eyes flickered to the small boy again, he was still coughing and his face had turned ashen.
Ryker laughed, "Even my uncle had a go on your mum!
We can't judge her of course, I mean, how else is she going to support her drug habit?"
Lyra clenched her hands into tight fists to hide the fact they were now shaking.
She could feel the tears prickling her eyes.
She was not going to cry.
She wasnotgoing to cry.
Especially in front of these two.
"Happy birthday!" the two boys chorused and burst out laughing.
It was like a flash, a click, a snap.
Something triggered right in her chest, and a rush of boiling wrath burst forth.
Not pausing to think, or care, Lyra lifted her foot and slammed it into Ryker's crotch.
He yelped and toppled to the floor.
Quick as a flash, she did the same thing to Nolan. He let out a girly screech.
He dropped the rucksack as his hands flew to cup his groin and Lyra took the opportunity to pick it up from the floor.
"Run!" she cried and grabbing the boy's hand, they dashed down the street.
Ryker and Nolan's shouts of indignation were not far behind as they chased after them.
They crossed the road, the vehicles hooted noisily and several cars had narrowly missed running them over.
Darting through the busy streets, Lyra held onto the boy's hand as she took numerous twists and turns in hopes of confusing their pursuers.
If they were unlucky enough to be captured by the boys, Lyra knew she could take a beating.
She had done many times thanks to many of the neighbourhood kids but she doubted the wheezing boy could, he had probably never even been grounded, let alone experienced a punch.
She couldn't protect him if he fell behind.
Her heart was beating painfully hard in her chest.
She pumped her legs faster, begging the dark-haired boy to keep running because if those two boys caught them, Lyra couldn't guarantee that either of them would be able to walk again.
2:12 P.M.
Lyra Thornewood was lying on a grassy field, staring up at the clear afternoon sky, her chest rapidly heaving up and down as she tried to regain her breath.
The dark-haired boy was kneeling beside her, panting just as hard.
When she'd realised Ryker and Nolan had stopped chasing them, she'd stopped and collapsed onto the grassy floor of the extensive sports field.
Lyra sat up when she heard a string of aggressive coughs coming from the dark haired boy.
His hand was clutching his chest tightly, the other covering his mouth.
"Oh my God," she stared at him, "What's wrong?
Do you have asthma?"
He nodded.
Lyra leapt for his bag and frantically began searching through it.
"Is your inhaler in here?"
He nodded again.
Lyra panicked as she quickly scoured the contents of the rucksack.
She grinned when she felt the plastic case of the inhaler.
She passed it to the dark-haired boy and watched as he put it in his mouth.
Several deep breaths later and the boy had stabilised.
Lyra stood up, she reached her hand out to him and the boy took it.
He pulled himself up on wobbly legs and stretched his limbs.
His short dark hair was now a sweaty mess, it clung to his forehead and stuck up at odd angles.
"Are you OK now?" Lyra asked him.
"Yes," he croaked, "thank you."
It was the boy's eyes that caught her by surprise.
The irises were coloured the most startling shade of blue.
Blue like the Mediterranean oceans and the underwater landscapes of the pacific with striking flecks of sliver that reminded her of full moons.