Lyra's POV:
The first time I saw them, I thought they were soldiers.
That was my first mistake.
"Lyra!"
Mara's voice cut through the sound of clinking glass.
I didn't look up immediately. The rhythm of grinding dried roots between the mortar and pestle kept my hands busy, steady. It helped me think. It helped me not think.
"If this is about the rosemary shortage, I already apologized," I said.
"It's not the rosemary." She nodded toward the doorway. "It's the men."
That made me look up.
I wiped my hands slowly on my apron, more out of habit than need, and turned toward the front of the shop.
Three of them stood just inside the apothecary.
They didn't belong there.
It wasn't just their size, though they were all too tall and too broad for the low wooden beams of the ceiling. It was the way they stood still and certain like they had stepped into the room and decided it was theirs now.
Brey Hollow doesn't produce men like that.
People here kept their heads down, voices low, movements careful. Even laughter felt borrowed, like it could be taken away if it got too loud.
These men didn't look like they had ever borrowed anything in their lives.
The tallest one stepped forward slightly.
Black hair, broad shoulders, hands marked with scars that did not look accidental. His clothes were simple, but they fit him too well, like they had been made with purpose rather than bought out of necessity.
His eyes caught mine.
They were not brown. Not red. Not anything I could name.
Dark and deep like wine held to candlelight.
He was watching me.
Not politely.
Not casually.
Watching.
I straightened my spine before I even realized I was doing it.
"If you're here for charms, those are fake," I said. "If you're here for medicine, that's real."
Mara made a small sound beside me that could have been a laugh or a warning.
The bronze skinned one beside the tall man huffed a quiet laugh. "She's bold."
There was something amused in his voice. Something sharp underneath it.
The third man said nothing.
Lean, ash blonde hair falling into his face just enough to shadow his eyes. He moved less than the others, but somehow noticed more. His gaze swept the room once, slow and deliberate.
Shelves. Windows. Door. Mara. Me.
When his eyes settled on me, they didn't leave.
It felt like being measured.
Like he had already decided something and was just waiting to see if I would prove him wrong.
Mara nudged my shoulder. "Lyra blends the herbs. Tell her what you need."
The tall one didn't look away.
"For sleep," he said.
His voice was low. It didn't need volume to be heard. It carried anyway, like the room adjusted itself around it.
"Trouble resting?" I asked.
"Something like that."
His gaze dropped to my throat.
I resisted the urge to step back.
Internally, I was reconsidering every life decision that led to me being the one who handled customers today.
"You don't look like farmers," I said lightly, reaching for dried valerian root.
My fingers brushed the brittle leaves. Familiar. Safe.
"Because we are not," the bronze one replied.
I glanced at him. He leaned against the counter like he had always belonged there, like this was a tavern and not a shop that sold remedies to people who could not afford to be sick.
Soldiers then. Mercenaries maybe. Or criminals who were very bad at pretending to be harmless.
The lean one finally spoke. "We're just passing through."
"Through what?" I asked.
He tilted his head slightly. "Through."
Right. Mysterious. Of course.
I focused on my hands, wrapping the herbs in parchment with careful precision.
Fold, tuck and tie.
My hands were steady.
They had to be.
I had learned that early.
The tall one moved closer.
The shift was immediate.
The air changed. Warmer, heavier, like a storm pressing down before it broke.
My pulse kicked up without permission.
"Are you ill perhaps?" I asked before I could stop myself.
The bronze one smirked. "Do we look ill?"
"No," I said softly. "You look restless."
Silence fell thick between us.
The lean one's eyes sharpened.
The tall one's jaw flexed.
For one strange second, I had the ridiculous thought that I had insulted something more than men.
I held out the bundle.
"Valerian. Boil it. Drink before sleep. It should help."
The tall one reached for it.
Our fingers brushed.
Everything stopped.
The glass jars lining the walls rattled violently.
Every candle in the room flared at once, flames stretching too high, too bright.
Heat shot up my arm. Not burning. Not painful. Just sudden and alive. It settled in my chest like something waking up after a long, restless sleep.
The tall one's eyes widened just slightly.
The bronze one swore under his breath.
The lean one went completely still.
Mara gasped. "What did you do?"
"I didn't do anything," I said.
But I felt it.
Something under my skin pulsed once.
Like a heartbeat that wasn't mine.
Outside, the wind rose suddenly. The sign above the shop door slammed against the wall with a sharp crack.
The tall one withdrew his hand slowly.
"What," the bronze one said quietly, "was that?"
I swallowed. "Static?"
He didn't look convinced.
Neither did I.
The lean one stepped closer now.
Not aggressive.
Careful.
Like approaching something that might bite.
"What is your name?" he asked.
My mind flickered.
Names I had used before. Names that were not mine. Names that kept me safe.
None of them felt right.
Not now.
"Lyra," I said.
The tall one inhaled sharply.
The bronze one looked at him. "You smell that too, don't you."
Smell what?
I resisted the urge to sniff my sleeve.
The lean one's gaze dropped to my wrist, like he expected to see something there.
"You're not from here," the tall one said.
I forced a small shrug. "No one important is."
His expression darkened.
"You're wrong."
My stomach tightened.
He didn't mean the town.
He meant me.
Mara stepped forward, voice thin. "If you're finishe—"
"We are," the lean one interrupted.
The tall one placed silver coins on the counter without breaking eye contact.
Too many coins.
More than the herbs were worth.
"We'll be in town tonight," he said.
That didn't feel like information.
It felt like a warning.
Or ownership.
They left without another word.
The door closed behind them with a soft click that sounded too final.
For a second, neither of us moved.
Then I exhaled like I had been holding my breath for minutes.
Mara grabbed my wrist. "What was that?"
"Men with money," I said.
She didn't laugh.
"You felt it too."
I hesitated.
The truth felt absurd.
"Yes."
Her grip tightened. "Lyra, that wasn't normal."
"I know."
I pulled my hand free gently. My skin still felt warm where he had touched me.
Too warm.
"We're closing early," Mara said suddenly.
"What? Why?"
She glanced at the door like it might open again. "Because I don't like the way they looked at you."
I tried to smile. "People look at me all the time."
"Not like that."
Her voice dropped.
"Like they already decided something."
That made my chest tighten again.
I turned back to the table, picking up the mortar just to have something to do. "You're overthinking it."
"Am I?"
Neither of us a answered that.
I couldn't sleep that night.
The moonlight spilling through my window was too bright. It painted my floor silver like water, shifting every time the branches outside moved.
I lay on my back, staring at the ceiling. Listening.
Every creak sounded louder. Every shadow felt deeper.
My body refused to relax.
Like it was waiting.
I rolled onto my side and squeezed my eyes shut.
Wolves were myths.
Stories told to frighten children.
There were no creatures that could make glass tremble by brushing your skin.
There were no men whose eyes changed color in the dark.
There were no—
A sound cut through my thoughts.
A low growl.
Not close.
Not far.
My heart jumped into my throat.
I pushed myself upright slowly.
The growl came again.
Outside.
Right beneath my window.
I swung my legs off the bed, wincing as the cold floor met my feet. Every step felt too loud, even though I was barely moving.
I reached the window and hesitated.
Then I forced myself to look.
The forest behind the apothecary was black at night. No lanterns. No houses. Just trees stretching into darkness.
Something moved between them.
Large.
Too large to be a normal wolf.
The moonlight shifted.
And for half a second, I saw eyes.
Dark red.
Watching my window.
Watching me.
I fell back.
My pulse screaming in my ears.
When I looked again, nothing was there.
No movement. No sound. Just trees. Just silence.
I told myself I imagined it.
I told myself wolves didn't stand tall enough to look into second story windows.
I told myself those men were just travelers and nothing more.
Then something struck the side of the building.
Hard.
Wood splintered.
Mara screamed downstairs.
I froze.
Another impact.
Closer.
Claws scraped against the outer wall.
Not scratching.
Testing.
My chest tightened with a fear I couldn't explain.
A voice echoed from below.
Low.
Controlled.
Familiar.
"Lyra."
My blood ran cold.
I had not told them where I slept.
And the way he said my name didn't sound like a stranger.
It sounded like something that had just found what it was hunting.
The next blow broke my window.
Glass exploded inside.
And something massive lunged through the frame.