Page 15

LYRA

T he Mist & Mirth Inn had never looked better, which wasn't saying much considering it had been empty for two years, but Lyra was proud of what she'd accomplished in seventy-two hours of manic preparation.

She'd spent the first day frantically cleaning, her magic cooperating for once to help with tasks that should have taken a full crew.

Dust swirled itself into convenient piles, windows sparkled without cleaner, and cobwebs dissolved at her touch like they'd been waiting for permission to disappear.

The inn seemed eager to be welcoming again, its old bones settling into configurations that felt more alive than they had since Vera's death.

The second day had been devoted to decorating and food preparation, with assists from half the supernatural business community.

Junie had arrived with enough baked goods to feed a small army, muttering about "that girl working herself to exhaustion" while producing casseroles that smelled like comfort and belonging.

The florist—a dryad who grew her own inventory in the shop's backyard—had provided arrangements that literally glowed with health and vitality.

Even the local brewery had donated several kegs of their supernatural-friendly ale, which apparently didn't have the same effects on non-human metabolisms as regular alcohol.

Now, as the sun set on Saturday evening and the first guests began arriving, Lyra stood in the inn's main parlor wearing her best dress—a flowing emerald number that made her copper hair look like fire—and tried to calm her nerves.

"You look beautiful," Junie said, appearing at her elbow with a glass of something that sparkled faintly in the lamplight. "And the inn looks like home again."

Lyra accepted the drink gratefully, noting the way it tasted like confidence and moonlight. "I just hope people actually show up."

"Oh, honey," Junie laughed. "You've got supernatural beings arriving from three counties over. Word spread that the founder inn was hosting again, and everyone wants to see what Vera's granddaughter is made of."

As if summoned by her words, the front door chimed and a group of people entered that made Lyra grateful for Nico's crash course in supernatural species identification.

The leader was clearly a vampire—pale skin, perfectly styled hair, and the kind of charisma that made everyone in the room automatically turn to look at him.

Behind him came a family of shifters, their easy confidence and protective group dynamic marking them as pack members even in human form.

"Miss Whitaker?" The vampire approached with a smile that managed to be charming without showing fangs. "Marcus Blackwood from the Asheville coven. We've heard wonderful things about the inn's reopening."

"Thank you for coming," Lyra said, falling back on the social skills her mother had drilled into her during countless gallery openings. "Please, make yourselves at home. Food's in the dining room, drinks are wherever you can find them."

Marcus's smile widened. "Ah, the informal approach. How refreshingly honest."

Within an hour, the inn was filled with the kind of eclectic crowd that could only exist in a place like Mistwhisper Falls.

Witches clustered around the fireplace, sharing gossip and spell recipes.

A group of what appeared to be local fae had claimed the library, where they were examining Vera's book collection with the intensity of scholars finding lost manuscripts.

The pack shifters had gravitated toward the back patio, where they could keep an eye on both the party and the forest beyond.

Lyra moved through the crowd, playing hostess and trying not to think about the conspicuous absence of one particular guest. Cade hadn't appeared, despite the fact that half his pack was here and several people had asked about their alpha's whereabouts.

"He's watching from the forest," Finn Cooper said quietly, appearing at her side with the timing that suggested he'd been monitoring her mood.

Cade's beta was younger than she'd expected, with easy brown eyes and the kind of smile that probably got him out of trouble on a regular basis. "Has been for the past hour."

"I didn't ask about Cade," Lyra said, though her heart did something complicated at the confirmation that he was nearby.

"Didn't have to. You've been checking the door every five minutes." Finn's expression was sympathetic but amused. "For what it's worth, he wants to be here. He's just being an idiot about the whole founder bond thing. Or for the werevolves, it’s a mating bond."

"You know about that?"

"Pack bonds work differently than founder bonds, but the basic principles are the same.

When you find your other half, fighting it just makes everyone miserable.

" Finn took a sip of his beer, which appeared to be glowing faintly green.

"He'll come around. Alphas are stubborn, but they're not stupid. "

Before Lyra could respond, a commotion near the front door drew her attention. Elder Ruth had arrived, along with most of the town council, and the energy in the room shifted to something more formal and assessing.

"Showtime," Finn murmured. "Good luck."

Ruth moved through the crowd like a queen inspecting her domain, her sharp eyes taking in every detail of the inn's restoration and the gathered guests. When she reached Lyra, her expression was carefully neutral.

"Miss Whitaker," she said, accepting a cup of Junie's mulled cider. "An impressive turnout."

"Thank you," Lyra said, trying to project confidence she didn't entirely feel. "I wanted to show the community that the inn is ready to be part of Mistwhisper Falls again."

"And what role do you see yourself playing in our community?"

The question was clearly a test, and Lyra could feel multiple conversations pausing as people waited for her answer.

She thought about everything Nico had told her about founder responsibilities and the ancient ward beneath the waterfall, about the weight of heritage she'd inherited along with the inn.

"Whatever role the town needs me to play," she said finally. "I'm not going anywhere, Elder Ruth. This is my home now."

Something shifted in Ruth's expression, a hint of approval that she quickly masked. "We shall see. Time will tell us what you're truly made of."

"I hope so," Lyra said honestly. "I'm still figuring that out myself."

Ruth's smile was small but genuine. "At least you're honest about it. That's more than many can claim."

The formal tension eased after that, and the party settled into the comfortable chaos of a successful gathering. Lyra found herself relaxing for the first time in days, moving through her inn and feeling like she finally understood what home was supposed to feel like.

She was refilling the drink station when Diana Moonwhisper approached, her cat-like eyes holding concern.

"You might want to check the back garden," Diana said quietly. "Something's got the sensitive types spooked."

Lyra followed Diana's gaze toward the patio doors, where she could see several guests clustering near the windows and peering out into the darkness with obvious unease.

"What kind of something?"

"Lights where there shouldn't be lights. And sounds that don't match anything that should be living in those woods."

Lyra set down the pitcher she'd been holding and made her way through the crowd to the back patio. A small group had gathered at the railing, including Marcus Blackwood and a witch she'd been introduced to as Sage Thornfield.

"What are we looking at?" Lyra asked, joining them at the railing.

"The falls," Marcus said, pointing toward the distant glow of water tumbling over stone. "They're... different tonight."

Lyra followed his gaze and immediately understood the concern.

Hush Falls, which she'd glimpsed through the overgrown garden during her first tour of the inn, was glowing.

Not with reflected moonlight or electric illumination, but with an eerie blue-green phosphorescence that seemed to pulse in rhythm with something she couldn't identify.

"Has it ever done that before?" she asked.

"Never," Sage said, her voice tight with worry. "The falls are supposed to be dormant. Whatever's causing that glow, it's not natural."

As if responding to her words, the glow intensified, and Lyra could swear she heard something carrying on the night air. Not quite music, not quite voices, but something that made her founder's mark tingle with recognition.

"I need to get closer," she said, already moving toward the garden path.

"Lyra, no," Marcus caught her arm. "If something's awakened down there, approaching it alone would be?—"

"I'm not alone," Lyra said, gesturing to the gathered crowd. "And I'm the founder descendant. If something's wrong with the falls, it's my responsibility to investigate."

She pulled free from Marcus's grip and headed down the garden path, her magic stirring restlessly as she approached the source of the glow. Behind her, she could hear the sounds of people following, though she suspected most of them were keeping a respectful distance.

The path through Vera's overgrown garden was treacherous in the dark, but Lyra's magic seemed to guide her steps around obstacles she couldn't see.

Twisted rose bushes reached out like gnarled fingers, and something that could be poison ivy that glowed softly in patches that formed patterns too deliberate to be natural.

When she reached the clearing where Hush Falls tumbled into a natural pool, Lyra's breath caught in her throat.

The water was definitely glowing, but that wasn't what held her attention.

It was the way the light seemed to be moving beneath the surface, swirling in patterns that reminded her of the founder's markings in the cellar.

And it was the voice she could now clearly hear, rising from the depths of the pool with words that bypassed her ears and spoke directly to her soul.

"Daughter of magic," the voice said, and Lyra knew with bone-deep certainty that it was the same entity that had been whispering to her in the cellar. "Come home to us."

"Who are you?" she called out, moving closer to the pool's edge.

"We are the bound. We are the waiting. We are the hunger that grows with every passing moon."

The Mistbound. Lyra knew it without being told, the same way she'd known the founders' spirits were trying to help her. But this voice was different—older, hungrier, filled with a patient malevolence that made her magic recoil in instinctive fear.

"You're supposed to be sealed," she said, though she continued walking toward the water.

"Seals weaken. Bindings fray. And daughters of founding blood call to us whether they mean to or not."

Lyra was at the pool's edge now, staring down into water that glowed like liquid starlight. Somewhere in the depths, she could see shapes moving—not quite human, not quite animal, but definitely aware and definitely watching her.

"What do you want?"

"Freedom. Power. The magic that flows in your veins."

The pull was getting stronger now, and Lyra found herself leaning forward over the water. Her reflection stared back at her, but it wasn't quite right—her eyes were glowing the same blue-green as the pool, and her skin had taken on a translucent quality that made her look more spirit than human.

"Just a taste," the voice whispered. "Just a touch. Let us remember what magic feels like."

Lyra's hand was reaching toward the water before she consciously decided to move. The glowing surface looked so inviting, so peaceful. It would be so easy to just trail her fingers through the light, to make contact with whatever was calling to her from the depths.

"Lyra!"

Cade's voice cut through the supernatural compulsion like a blade, and suddenly she could think clearly again. She was leaning so far over the pool that another inch would have sent her tumbling into the glowing water with a presence so vast and hungry waiting just beneath the surface.

Strong arms wrapped around her waist, hauling her backward from the pool's edge. Cade's scent surrounded her—pine and leather and something wild that made her magic settle immediately.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" he demanded, his voice rough with panic and terror.

"I heard voices," Lyra said, though now that she was away from the water, the compulsion was fading. "Something was calling to me."

"Something was trying to drown you," Cade corrected grimly, pulling her further from the pool. "The Mistbound feeds on magical energy. If you'd touched that water..."

He didn't finish the sentence, but Lyra could imagine the implications. Around them, the gathered party guests were maintaining a respectful distance, though she could feel their attention focused on the glowing pool and the drama unfolding beside it.

"It knew my name," she said quietly. "It called me daughter of founding blood."

"Because that's what you are. And that's what makes you vulnerable to its influence.

" Cade's arms were still around her, and Lyra could feel the tremor in his hands that suggested his wolf simmered just beneath his skin.

"The stronger your connection to the founder magic becomes, the more attractive you are as a power source. "

"Meaning?"

"Meaning we need to get you away from here before it tries again." Cade finally released her, though he stayed close enough to catch her if she tried to return to the water. "And meaning the seal is weaker than we thought."

As if responding to his words, the glow in the pool pulsed once more, then began to fade. Within moments, Hush Falls looked like nothing more than an ordinary waterfall reflecting ordinary moonlight.

But Lyra could still feel the entity's attention like a weight against her skin, and she knew this was far from over.

"The party," she said suddenly, remembering the crowd of guests back at the inn.

"Will understand," Cade said firmly. "Nothing's more important than keeping you safe."

The words held more weight than a simple statement of protective duty, and when Lyra looked up at him, she saw something in his green eyes that made her heart skip.

"Cade," she started to say.

"Later," he said, but his voice was gentler than it had been in days. "Right now, we need to get you somewhere that thing can't reach you."

As they retraced her steps toward the inn, Lyra couldn't shake the feeling that the evening had changed more than just her relationship with the town's supernatural community.

It had also changed something fundamental between her and Cade, whether he was ready to admit it or not.