The month of Solara, the 10th day of Solariel

After a week of patrolling Sylvanbrook and attending various quests, Lyra and Eamon had settled into a rhythm. Though at times there were arguments, they were pretty attuned with the others' fighting style.

As for news of the Harmony Tax Act, some had grown more accustomed to it and didn’t want to cause unwanted discourse with the Empire and military. Others were starting to speak out and making pamphlets with propaganda messages to ‘break free’ from the Empire's rules. It was still a long way off, but sparks were the beginning of a revolution.

However, one thing remained elusive: the mysterious Rifts. They had been getting stronger and were now causing a disturbance with no apparent solution.

Lyra was at home, getting ready for the day, when her mother, Eida, stood at the doorway.

“I made some breakfast if you want any.”

“Thanks, Mom,” Lyra said, grabbing her knapsack. “I’ll be down to grab a bite before I go.”

Her mother’s eyes squared, sighing. She knew where she was going off to. “How long are you going to be at that guild?”

Lyra twisted her lip, giving her mother a similar lidded look. Really? ‘That’ guild? “I’m helping my grandfather and get paid for it.”

It was through guild missions, but she didn’t need to know that.

Eida shook her head. “Maybe you can get a job at the hospital or the school and be a clergyperson.”

Lyra sighed. This was how usual conversations went. “I just don’t like staying in one place. That isn’t me. I want to move around. Being at the guild, I’m more than busy.”

Her mother crossed her arms. “And so is working at the hospital or even the Tavern and Inn.” Lyra’s brows rose at her mother's statement. “Don’t give me that look, you know what I mean. You need stability, Lyra and the guild… well, it isn’t it, and now, with the Harmony Tax being in effect, there won’t be a need for the guild anymore when the military–”

Lyra deeply frowned, appalled her mother would even say such a thing. “I’m not so hungry anymore.” She tightened her hand on her straps, squeezed by her mother, and left the doorway.

Eida called back to her in the hall, halting Lyra’s movement. “It’s time to think seriously about your life, Lyra. You aren’t getting any younger. You should think more about your future, not a fleeting moment.”

Lyra wrinkled her nose, mumbling, “And end up hating everything in a dead-end job.”

“What was that young lady?” her mother’s footsteps echoed behind her. “Use your words audibly, like I know you can.”

Lyra sighed. Her shoulders slumped. “The guild. Locksmiths. They have been our protectors for a long time, Mom.” Her eyes grew warm, trying to keep them from bursting into tears. “They care about the people and make sure we’re protected, sometimes for no pay, but it’s because they want to see humanity thrive. But now that’s being taken away because of the military, and we all see what happens when any governing power calls the shots.”

“Lyra, things need to happen for things to change. I’m sorry, but–”

Lyra snapped around to face her mother. The tears she had held back burst from her eyes and trailed down her cheek. “You’re sorry? Things are starting to change fast, and maybe not all for the better. The military isn’t as cracked up as you think, and I’m sure that’s why Eamon left.”

Eida gaped. Her eyes were wide with surprise. “Eamon? That boy you’d follow everywhere as a kid? He’s back? Wait, was that who I heard that day? Lyra, I swear to Lumos if you–”

Lyra smacked her hands over her ears. Her face burned. “Oh, my Lumos. Mom, stop!” Making her mother jump. “Everything is more black and white than the shades of gray you see the world as. One moment, you want me to be older, but then you'll turn back around and remind me: ‘I’m a kid and won’t understand.’ I understand perfectly and know when something isn’t right. I know when things need to change or not, but I also know that sometimes you can’t sit idly by and let that change happen–That you know in your gut is wrong. Dad understood that and why he dedicated his life to ensuring the people have a voice, a home, and a way of life.”

Her mother bristled. Her brows furrowed as her own shared brown eyes were glassy. “And where is your father now? That’s right, buried with his beliefs because he’s–”

“Dead. I know that!” Lyra shouted with her arms spread out. “Everyone knows, but they don’t shun him for what he did, and they remember him what he did and talk highly of him. You’re the only one who would rather keep him buried instead of celebrating all he’s done.”

Her mother started laughing, but it was shaky. She held no humor in her voice, nor did the pull of her lips reach her eyes. “All he’s done?” Stepping toward her daughter with a gait in her step. Lyra went rigid but stood her ground as the two women faced off.

“Do you even know what it was like being the wife of a Locksmith? It was lonely, Lyra. They could be gone for days, weeks, or months at a time, and back then, we didn’t have the Voxlink to communicate. Sure, he wrote letters, but I needed him here, so while he was out helping people, he forgot his own back home. Did you know he missed your birth? He came back weeks later.”

“Yeah, I know. Grandpa told me he tried getting regular local jobs.”

Her mother crossed her arms. “And that didn’t last long because he was back to moving around, never staying still, and always on the move. Never being able to stay focused for too long.”

“And you don’t think he tried, Mom?” she shouted, her palms out. “You know what Grandpa told me once? That dad felt like the worst husband and father because his mind was always in different places, though his heart was with you. He knew that he had a duty to you, me, but also the world. He tried getting a stable job in town, but staying in one place was exhausting, constantly distracted by the news and his wayward thoughts.”

Her mother’s shoulders became less cinched through her daughter's words as she took in her daughter's words. Seeing the hardened and desperate layer behind her wide eyes reminded her so much of her late husband.

“Mom, he was miserable but never wanted to show you he was incapable or weak, so he put on a smile and masked it.”

Eida was silent as the final nail in the coffin hit, striking her in the chest and making her flinch. Tears filled her eyes. “So what? Is it my fault?”

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

Lyra shook her head. She was panicking, seeing her mother suddenly break. “No, Mom. It’s no one's fault, but you can’t let fear, uncertainty, and complacency dictate your life. That’s how you become stagnant. It made you push Daddy away, not on purpose, but because society never prepared people for how to go about life. It just tells you to do this and accept that it stopped you from joining the theater at Crystalline State.” Her mother’s eyes blinked away the tears, hearing about the past and what she had dreamed about for years. “I can’t let what Chancellor Viktor is doing just go, and so many others can’t do anything about it.”

“And what do you expect to do to speak out then?”

This was it. It’s time to stop hiding behind my fear and uncertainty.

“I have to try, mama. I know you want what’s best for me and have sacrificed a lot to ensure I’m provided for, but I can’t stay in Sylvanbrook. I need to travel and explore, and I can help so many more people with what I am doing now… as a Locksmith, like Dad.”

Lyra let the truth sink in so her mother would understand. When it finally did, her face paled and was void of emotion—a reaction Lyra didn’t expect. She felt a sharp pain rush through her.

“I should get to work; it’s an early rush day.” Eida’s words were stonewalled and flat. She walked past Lyra, who looked pained by her mother’s brush-off.

“Mom?” Lyra croaked out.

Her mother stopped but didn’t turn around. She wasn't sure how to think or feel about her daughter's revelation. Deep down, she felt betrayed, but most importantly, she couldn't help but feel like she failed.

“If you can just clean up the kitchen and store the food away before you head out…thank you, sweetie.” The last part of her words were dry-like. Eifa continued down the hall and steps, leaving Lyra standing alone.

•†•

Lyra entered the guild a little later as Eamon was waxing the floor. He sat up when he spotted her. He joked, “Hey, I thought you would leave me with all the chores…Lyra? Lyra, are you okay?” He jumped to his feet, tossing the rag to the floor, seeing her cinched posture, tightened fists, and quivering lips. What made him think something was wrong was the tears that brimmed her eyes as they ran down her cheeks and under her chin.

He approached her, closing the gap between them. “Lyra, what happened?”

Lyra parted her lips, mustering the strength to speak, looking everywhere but at him.“I…I told my mom I was a Locksmith. How I couldn’t stay in one place, and while it’s no one’s fault, why did Dad choose to be a Locksmith? I think…she thinks she failed and hates what I am, that she couldn’t try hard enough to sway my thoughts from wanting to be a Locksmith.”

Eamon frowned. Without thinking, he swept Lyra into his arms in a tight hug. The gesture surprised Lyra, who was caught off guard by the embrace.

“No, don’t say that.” His whispers muffled into her ear. “Your mother doesn’t think you’re a failure or hates you.”

Lyra squinted her eyes as the tears flowed and blurred her vision.

“Mothers…least from my faded memories, want what’s best for their children and will try to stray them on a path they think will lead to less heartache and failure because they want to shield us; that’s what mothers are, protectors. In a way, they are similar to Locksmiths: A duty to their family.”

He tightened his hold on her.

“Just give her time to process it all. She will realize that sometimes children have to follow their own path of mistakes, failures, and hardships, but…those hardships and failures can turn into successes.”

Eamon thought about how Ealdred took him in and set him on the path of a Locksmith. He let him find his way when he left for the military and let him experience the hard truth for himself.

“She loves you,” he continued. “And knows you love her too. She’ll see in time that you have your path, but that doesn’t mean you’ll forget all she’s done or taught you, and you will return.”

Lyra had been still in Eamon’s arms, listening to his consoling words as he eased the sadness away. She buried her face into Eamon’s shoulder, and he held her there. No one said anything until someone cleared their throat.

The two pulled away from their embrace—Lyra hastily wiping her face—to see a woman with ebony brown skin and long silver hair that fell past her waistline. Her hands were tucked into her colorful trousers, and she wore a long trench coat over a loose-fitting cotton shirt. One bright amber eye looked back at them while a worn leather eye patch covered the other eye, and she smiled at them.

“Sorry to interrupt, but do you kids know where Ealdred Ashbourne is?”

Lyra sniffed, nodding. “My grandfather should be in his office.”

The woman’s eye widened, and she stepped forward, leaning toward her, with her hands still in her pockets. “Aye, you’re the little Ashborune heir he’s spoken about?”

Lyra jumped, leaning back at the woman’s proximity. “Um, yes? You know my grandfather so well that he talks about me?”

The woman laughed boisterously, causing only a few students to come in staring. “Know him? Bah! You can basically call me your godmother. The Sentinel Riftbreaker and I go way back. We were the best duo Aurum has ever witnessed.”

Eamon was the first to catch on. He nudged Lyra, whispering, “Lyra, look.” He jutted his chin to the gilded crimson handle and leather whip at her hip, rose petals ingrained into the material.

Lyra gaped at the weapon and then back at the woman. “You…You’re the Rosevera Whip.”

“Selene Blackthorn,” Eamon added. “The fastest Locksmith around and with speeds that could rival a bullet.”

She grinned with a shrug. She had heard the compliment far too many times but was otherwise used to it. “The one and only, but please, call me Sly.”

Overhearing the name Sly, the Rosevera Whip, the students inside crowded around her and began asking a bunch of questions until Ealdred showed up.

“Back to training!” Everyone scurried off to what they were supposed to be doing. “I hear ruckus and commotion, and it was just an old whittled flower bursting through.”

“Whittled?” Sly barked out a laugh. “Seems your eyesight isn’t what it used to be, Ealdred. You’re starting to gain more wrinkles since the last time we saw each other; perhaps we should duke it out and see which of us still has it.”

Lyra and Eamon stepped back. They surveyed the two seasoned warriors as they stared off. Lyra marveled and was nervous to see two legends go at it. Some of the students even thought the same.

“Do you think they’re going to fight?” Lyra whispered to Eamon.

“Hard to tell. Sly seems fired up; it’s an energy I’ve never felt before, and I can’t get a read on Master at all, but even his aura is at a peak if you can sense it.”

“I don’t know about you, but I kinda wanna see the Rosevera Whip in action,” Lyra revealed with a big grin.

“Speak for yourself; even the military still awes at her. I wouldn't know who would win. Master is an S-Rank Locksmith, the highest ranking ever, and so few have achieved it. Sly is an A-Rank but is at Master’s level. Everyone still marvels and talks about their time as a duo in Aurum decades ago.”

Lyra’s eyes twinkled. She wanted to know more about her grandfather and Master’s time. However, Sly and Ealdred burst out laughing, catching everyone off guard.

“Seems I’ve stirred the pot again,” Sly confessed. “These students of yours wanted to see a fight, but they’ll be slightly disappointed.”

Ealdred waved her off. “Nonsense, your skills have exceeded exceptionally over the years. I’m sure you can beat me.”

Sly smirked. “Perhaps, but an S-Rank ain’t one for nothing. Even if he is an old fart, I can feel you suppressing your power even now.” her voice lowered, but only Lyra and Eamon heard.

They both shuddered at the thought of the monstrous amount of Essentia and power that their Master was harboring away. They couldn’t even fathom what that would feel like.

Ealdred, unphased by his old friends boasting about his prowess, smiled. “Come, let's go into my office to speak in private. Lyra, Eamon, you too.”

The two students jumped and followed after the two Senior Locksmiths.