It was storming that night, hard. The kind of storm that made windows shake and lights flicker. The kind that made you wanna hide under a blanket and pretend the world outside didn't exist.
But Lyra didn't get to do that.
She just stood there, at the foot of the bed, staring. Watching her mom fade away. It made her heart crumble.
"So this is it," she said, barely above a whisper, "You're really gonna die... just like Dad did."
Her mom looked like she hadn't slept in days. Her face was pale. She looked weak. With eyes barely open. But she still reached out, grabbed Lyra's hand, and held on tight. Like she didn't wanna go yet.
"I'm sorry," she said, her voice was thin. Shaky, "I'm so, so sorry. I messed up. We did. We didn't leave anything behind for you. Nothing. We only tried to fight the curse."
She looked up at Lyra, tears running down her cheeks. "I should've... we should've done more. Been better. For you."
Lyra didn't say anything. She couldn't. Her throat hurt.
"Listen to me," her mom said, breath hitching, "Run. Run far away. This world doesn't care about people like us. It's cruel. But… you will find people who do. People who won't leave. People who'll make it hurt less."
She paused, eyes fluttering.
"You'll laugh again. You'll cry too. But it won't always be like this."
She squeezed Lyra's hand one last time.
"Live, Lyra. Please live. For me. For him. Don't waste your life trying to fix the curse. It's part of you."
"I'm sorry you have to carry it."
And then… she stopped breathing.
And Lyra stood there, her hand still holding her mom's, as the storm outside kept screaming. But inside, everything was quiet.
The Cursed had a history. After the gods created humans, they gave some of them power, something called Vibes. A gift born from music itself. It let them shape sound, bend it, make it beautiful. People called them the Blessed. They lived long, they smiled wide, they danced like they had forever.
But then came Pan. A fallen god. A demon. Banished from Olympus. Zeus's enemy. Pan created his own people too, and he gave them Vibes as well. But his gift came with a price. Their life wasn't theirs for long. The Vibes pulled it out of them, slowly, piece by piece. A little weaker every day. Most don't make it past 35. Some don't even make it past childhood.
That's the curse.
Lyra was born with it in her blood. She always knew this day would come. The day she'd have to say goodbye to everything she knew, the day everything crumbles into dust. But that didn't make it easier, it made her worse. She was just a kid. Her dad died the same way. And now... her mom.
And she knew.... sooner or later, it would be her too.
She didn't cry much. She just packed a small bag. Grabbed what she could. Food, clothes, some matches. She didn't know where she was going. Didn't know what she was looking for. She just knew she had to leave.
The house was quiet. Their place was far out on the edge of the country. Nobody ever came out here. It felt like the end of the world. Maybe it was.
Lyra stepped outside. The wind was cold. The sky, grey. Dull. Everything looked too big. But she didn't turn back. She just walked.
After walking for hours, Lyra could barely stand. Her legs ached. Her skin stung from where branches had whipped across her arms and face. She didn't cry. She didn't complain. She just kept walking.
Until she saw it.
A cave—no, a temple. Half-buried in the side of a hill, covered in moss, ancient and broken but still standing. The stone walls were cracked and weathered.
She pushed open the heavy wooden door. It creaked like it hadn't been touched in centuries. Inside, the air was thick with dust. Scrolls, books, relics,everything screamed history. Power. Memory. But it was the guitar that pulled her in. No, not a guitar. The guitar.
It sat in the center of the room, glowing softly like it was alive. Golden. Beautiful. Carved with symbols she didn't recognize but somehow felt. Like the markings were calling to something deep inside her that had been asleep until now.
She didn't hesitate.
She picked it up. Held it in her hands like it was meant to be there, and it felt destined. Then she played.
A song, no---a cry. A scream. Her grief. Her fear. Her fury. Her emptiness. She poured it all out. The sound that came from the strings was raw, wild, heavy. It cracked the silence, shook the ground, made the air itself tremble. Her music wasn't gentle. It wasn't kind. It was pain given sound.
It was a Dark Melody.
And as the last note echoed into the silence, something inside her changed.
She didn't know what tomorrow would look like. Didn't know if she'd survive the next year, or the next month, or even the next day.
But she knew one thing. She was going to try anyway.
Even if her mind kept telling her she was already dead. Even if the curse kept ticking like a bomb in her chest. Even if she had no plan, no map, no safety net, she wasn't going to disappear quietly.
She was going to live so loud it hurt. She was going to make noise the gods couldn't ignore.
She was going to fight. For every cursed kid too scared to dream. For every broken home, every empty chair, every goodbye that came too soon.
She didn't know what would happen next. But whatever it was? It was gonna feel her coming.