Chapter Twelve: Between Shadows and Firelight
Elias was always the kind of boy who could fill the silence.
That afternoon, after their shift at the café, he walked her to the edge of the park like he always did, rambling about the latest books he was reading or the sketches he'd forgotten to finish. Lyra only half listened. Her mind was elsewhere, drifting in storm clouds, caught between green-blue eyes and the quiet rage inside her ribs.
"You haven't smiled in three days," Elias said suddenly, nudging her gently with his elbow.
"I don't have much reason to," she murmured.
He tilted his head, considering her with soft eyes. "What if I gave you one?"
She glanced at him sideways.
"Come with me," he said. "Movie night. Just us. You need to breathe, Lyra. Just once. No café. No books. No... ghosts."
She hesitated. A dozen reasons bloomed on her tongue. But in the end, she nodded.
That night, they met at the corner near the old record shop. Elias wore a faded denim jacket, and his smile was a little too proud when he saw her dressed in something other than her work clothes.
She looked down.
"You look nice," he said gently. "Promise I won't say it again if it makes you uncomfortable."
They walked side by side, talking lightly about the film they planned to see.
Until they weren't alone anymore.
Lucian stood at the entrance of a bookstore, one hand in his coat pocket, a leather-bound notebook in the other. His eyes were on them before they even saw him.
He stepped forward.
"Elias."
Elias blinked. "Hey—Lucian, right? From lit class?" Lyra told Elias about Lucian since Elias had no classes with Lucian.
Lucian nodded once. Then his gaze slid to Lyra.
"Lara isn't it?" he said simply.
Lyra's body went still.She wanted to correckt him but Elias was quicker.
"Its actualy Lyra." He said.
Her heart gave a traitorous jolt.
But she said nothing.
Her eyes locked on his, expression unreadable.
Lucian looked between them once. Elias quickly added since he knew it would made Lyra uncomftrable othervise "Oh—Lyra and I are just friends," he said quickly, awkwardly. "In case that's—"
Lucian raised a hand to silence him. "It's fine."
He lingered a second longer, watching Lyra, who refused to break eye contact.
Then he turned and walked away.
They didn't speak of him again.
The movie played in blurs. She couldn't remember what it was about. She barely laughed, barely moved. Elias tried. He bought popcorn. Offered his hoodie when the theater turned cold. He smiled through her silence.
But her uncle was waiting.
And the belt came swiftly. He pointed out the 'new' sweather becous he knewthat boywho walked her gave it to her and he hated it. He hated that she was making friends. He blamed her for acident.
She didn't cry out. She never did.
Only after, curled in the corner of her mattress, the bruises fresh and stinging, did she let the tears fall.
Her dream was a storm again. A crash of metal. A scream swallowed by the dark.
---
The next day was colder than it should have been.
She moved through school like a shadow.
It was her first class with Lucian again. Literature.
And Amanda was waiting.
With her new, expanded squad. Cassie. Talia. And two new girls, both long-legged and cruel-eyed.
They cornered Lyra near the classroom door.
"Back off, nerd," Amanda sneered. "Think you're clever, cozying up to Elias and Lucian?"
Lyra didn't respond.
Cassie stepped closer. "You think he looks at you because he likes you? Please. He probably thinks you're a charity case."
Lyra didn't blink.
Talia scoffed. "Poor little Lyra. Always so sad. Always so quiet."
"Maybe she's mute," one of the new girls giggled. "Would explain why she's so weird."
Before Lyra could move, a voice cut through the hallway.
"Girls, inside. Now."
It was the literature teacher.
Students filed past the group.
Lyra slipped between Amanda and the wall, head low, pulse racing.
She found her seat.
And moments later, Lucian slid into the desk beside her.
He didn't speak right away.
But she felt it—his awareness of her. The way he watched her, quiet and precise.
"You look tired," he said finally. His voice was low. Calm.
She didn't answer.
"Rough night?"
Still, she said nothing.
Lucian leaned back. "If it's Elias, don't worry. He's harmless. Too pure, even for this place."
Her lips twitched.
Lucian's eyes narrowed, just slightly. "You're thinking something. Say it."
"I don't talk much," she said quietly.
"I noticed."
"Is that why you watch me?" she asked before she could stop herself.
He smiled, slow and sharp. "Maybe."
Silence.
Then—
"I saw the bruises," he said, so soft it was almost a ghost of a thought.
Her breath caught.
"You hide them well. But not always well enough."
She gripped her pen tightly.
"I won't ask," he added. "I don't need to."
The bell rang, and he stood, gathering his books.
But before he left, he said:
"Next time, don't let them corner you."
She stared after him long after he was gone.
And when she went home that night, her thoughts spun in circles.
Not about the bruises.
Not about Amanda.
But about how Lucian had looked at her like she was something seen.
And for the first time in a long time—
She didn't feel invisible...