Lyra slips out of Rowan’s apartment, the cool night air prickling her fur. She hesitates, glancing back once before dashing into the city’s depths. The streets are alive with activity—flashing neon signs, car horns blaring, and laughter spilling from bars. Lyra flinches as she passes a crowded corner where people shout over booming music. Her ears twitch in annoyance, the noise almost overwhelming.
Lyra (thinking, irritated):“Ugh, why do humans need everything so loud? And why am I even here? I could be sleeping in Rowan’s warm bed right now…”
Despite her reluctance, the bell on her collar rings insistently, pulling her forward, past the bustling crowd and deeper into the maze of city lights. She weaves through alleys, her paws light and quick, senses on high alert as she gets closer to the source of her instinct. Finally, she spots Rosie inside a small, packed bar, laughing with friends, swaying slightly as they all share another drink.
The noise pounds in Lyra’s ears. The flashing lights, the thumping bass—it’s disorienting, almost repulsive to her heightened senses as a cat. She stays just outside, watching with a mix of discomfort and unease as Rosie moves through the crowd.
Lyra (thinking, exasperated):“This girl better be worth it…”
Suddenly, as Lyra observes Rosie, a memory surfaces—a flicker of that strange place, an echo of her first encounter with Rixnovem.
[FLASHBACK]
In a surreal, star-lit void, Lyra—still adjusting to her new form and the strange being before her—glares at Rixnovem, who stands calmly, eyes glowing like twin moons.
Rixnovem:“The collar also bells to give you another sign, Elara. You can become human for ten minutes if you wish. Unseen by everyone, should you choose. But remember: each time, you may use a unique power. Only one. And each will cost you a life.”
Lyra raises a skeptical eyebrow, paws twitching with annoyance.
Lyra (sarcastic):“So you’re telling me I get a trial period as a human, plus one shiny superpower, but it’s, like, one-use-only? Great deal. Anything else, or should I start an invoice?”
Rixnovem’s gaze is unfazed, as calm as ever.
Rixnovem:“Saving others is not a transaction, Elara. It is a choice. And one that will cost you.”
Lyra (rolling her eyes):“Yeah, yeah. Nine lives, nine powers, or whatever. Just don’t expect me to go all ‘heroic’ every time this bell jingles.”
End of flashback, fading back to the present.
The memory makes her feel the weight of her task a little more, despite her sarcasm. She’s barely made peace with the idea of being a cat, let alone a life-saving one. But as she watches Rosie leave the bar, a new determination rises in her chest.
Lyra (thinking, catching her breath):“Alright, Rixnovem… you put me here, so let’s see what this is all about.”
Rosie and her friends begin walking down a dimly lit street, still laughing and talking. Lyra follows, her senses tingling as the bell’s chime resonates quietly, urging her forward, deeper into the unknown.
Scene 2: Café Hold-Up
The café is a warm refuge from the late-night city chill, its soft amber lighting contrasting with the chaos outside. The hum of conversation and the comforting clink of mugs fills the space. Rosie, cheeks flushed from the night out, laughs with her friends, slightly tipsy, orders a coffee with her friends, as they settle into a booth by the window. She brushes her messy curls back and giggles, clearly still riding the high from the party.
Rosie’s Friend #1 (teasing): "Rosie, you were unstoppable tonight! That dance floor was yours."
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Rosie (laughing): "Hey, I’m just saying, someone had to keep the party alive!"
Rosie’s Friend #2: "Right? Though I think that DJ owes you royalties at this point."
They laugh together, their voices blending into the café's gentle buzz. Meanwhile, Lyra slips through the café’s front door, a tiny shadow dodging the legs of oblivious customers. Her nose twitches at the smell of coffee, and the cacophony of chatter and clinking cups irritates her sensitive ears. She presses herself low to the ground, slipping under tables, and finally settles near Rosie’s booth. Her eyes are locked on Rosie, sensing an unexplainable connection, but her instincts are sharp, sensing something else—a feeling of impending danger.
Rosie reaches for her coffee, barely noticing Lyra under the table. But Lyra's ears perk up as she watches two men she noticed earlier slip on dark masks, covering their faces just before heading toward the counter. The transformation from casual customers to robbers is swift, unsettling.
One of the men, jittery and nervous, pulls out a gun, his hands shaking slightly. The barista freezes, staring wide-eyed, and the entire café falls silent.
Nervous Robber: "Alright, nobody move! Just... hand over the cash!"
The other robber, calm and unnervingly composed, watches his partner with a critical eye.
Calmer Robber (whispering harshly): "Relax, don’t let your nerves blow this. We’ve got this under control."
Lyra’s eyes narrow as she watches, her small frame tense and alert. She slips further under Rosie’s table, trying to get a better view, her instincts urging her to stay close but hidden.
Once more, the collar bell rings—a sharp, urgent sound that resonates in Lyra’s ears, grounding her with its unmistakable pull. She closes her eyes, letting the call settle within her, knowing what she has to do.
A faint, ethereal glow wraps around her, almost like moonlight filtering through water, shimmering and growing as it envelops her small feline frame. Her fur ripples, a strange warmth surging through her as her form begins to stretch and shift. Her paws lengthen, claws retracting to reveal delicate fingers, her tail fades, and her spine straightens with an almost fluid grace. In moments, her soft black fur recedes, and she emerges—now a tall figure with long, dark hair cascading over her shoulders, and sharp blue eyes that hold both curiosity and fear.
It feels surreal, standing in her human form again, even if only for a brief ten minutes—and with the weight of a mission on her shoulders.
Lyra takes a steadying breath, feeling the strange lightness of her fingers, the pulse of energy in her limbs, and the hum of the powers now accessible to her. She is invisible to everyone in the café, a silent, unseen guardian.
Nervous Robber (voice shaking as he raises his gun): “Nobody move! Just… just put your valuables on the table, now!”
The barista behind the counter freezes, his hands instinctively hovering over the register.
Calm Robber (more commanding, nudging his partner): “Stay cool, man. We don’t need any slip-ups. Just get the cash from the register and the stuff from these tables, alright?”
The nervous robber swallows, his grip unsteady. His eyes dart to the cashier, who is paralyzed with fear.
Nervous Robber: “Hey! Y-you—open the register! I don’t have all night!”
When the cashier hesitates, the nervous robber’s agitation spikes. He swings his gaze toward Rosie’s table, the gun waving erratically.
Nervous Robber (with a shaky shout): “You! Yeah, you! Start putting your stuff in the bag!”
Rosie, her face pale, clutches her purse, exchanging a wide-eyed look with her friends. No one moves fast enough, the tension in the air growing thick and nearly suffocating.
Calm Robber (low but firm): “Just do it. Don’t make this hard.”
The fear around the room is palpable, with people hesitant, clutching bags and valuables close to their bodies. The lack of response only heightens the nervous robber’s anxiety, and his fingers tighten on the trigger, his voice cracking as he begins to panic.
Nervous Robber: “I said move! Don’t you—don’t you test me!”
In his panic, his grip slips—and the gun goes off. The sudden explosion of sound echoes throughout the café. The bullet, fired almost accidentally, hits Rosie square in the chest. A horrified scream breaks out from the crowd, followed by chaos, as Rosie slumps forward in slow motion, her coffee spilling from her hand, a growing stain on her shirt as she collapses.
Lyra’s heart races, a surge of panic and purpose flooding her senses. She stares at Rosie, helpless and surrounded by her shocked friends, feeling the unexplainable pull of connection, a hazy memory surfacing. Her gaze hardens, resolution dawning within her.
Lyra (thinking, fiercely):"This wasn’t supposed to happen. But... I can fix it... I have to."
She closes her eyes, steadying herself, feeling the pulse of untapped powers lying just within reach—if she’s willing to give one of her nine lives.
Cut to black.
End of Episode 3