Dear friends,
I want to apologize for the delay in publishing over the past period. I am facing heavy pressures and struggling with some mental health challenges, in addition to working on Sorin & Lyra alongside the novel Symbol of Cunning, which makes things very demanding.
I promise that what's coming will be shocking and full of surprises, and I am doing my best to provide you with the best possible experience. Thank you for your patience and continuous support.
Sincerely,
Author: 1Shinigami1
In a world filled with silence and darkness, Sorin lives between his dream and reality, surrounded by waves of restless emotions. With every heartbeat and every breath he takes, Lyra's phantom appears, a radiant light guiding his shadowed path. The love hidden behind barriers, the longing screaming in silence, and a power he has never known before—all converge within his heart, forging a hero unseen by the world yet as deep as the ocean.
Every step he takes, every moment standing between shadow and light, brings him closer to a truth: life, love, and ambition come with a steep price. Yet his heart knows no surrender, and his mind refuses to bow before adversity. On this new morning, amidst classrooms, gardens, and rivers, Sorin embarks on a journey with Lyra's phantom—a journey filled with hope, longing, and battles yet to begin.
Chapter Three: The Phantom
Your phantom passes… and everything rejoices
And within your senses… the light of the cosmos blends
Oh "Lyra," be the lighthouse for "Sorin"
For in your seas… every wave surges
Sorin lay in bed, suspended between dream and reality. Lyra haunted his thoughts, appearing in his dreams as a radiant light guiding his steps through the darkness. With the beginning of the third school year, his heart ached with anticipation to see the beacon of his path, and every thought in his mind belonged to her alone.
His family noticed the subtle changes in him, yet they could never fathom the depth of his affection. Sorin's diligence in his studies was not born from ambition or excellence, but from a quiet yearning: to be noticed by Lyra, to be close to her, even if only in her periphery.
That morning, as the soft light of dawn crept over the rooftops, Sorin walked to school. Every step was heavy with both excitement and nervousness, each movement of Lyra in his mind like a gentle current stirring his heart. Entering the classroom, his eyes immediately found her: Lyra, seated at the front, bathed in the first light of the sun, her gaze steady and calm, yet alive with an energy that made the world around him fade.
He sat at his desk, not daring to lift his eyes from her. The lesson around him became a distant murmur; his soul was anchored solely to Lyra. The teacher, noticing his distraction, approached with a voice edged in authority:
Teacher: "Sorin, what are you doing?"
Sorin blinked, turning his gaze reluctantly toward her, and replied softly:
Sorin: "Yes, teacher… I am with you."
The teacher's stern smile faltered for a moment before she said:
Teacher: "Then what were you explaining? Stop drifting with your words!"
A sharp slap met his cheek, leaving a stinging imprint. But Sorin barely flinched; the sensation was nothing compared to the storm of thoughts and longing swirling inside him. He whispered to himself, a faint smile tugging at his lips:
"I see you near… but between us stretches a horizon
Silent, and in it my heart burns
I hid your name in my chest as a talisman
As if I were the cloud… and desires beat within me"
Lyra's eyes, now concerned, met his gaze.
"Sorin, are you okay?"
"I'm fine… though I hardly slept last night," he confessed quietly.
The school day ended, and the students dispersed. Sorin followed her steps, invisible and careful, his presence shadowing her journey home. Every beat of his heart synchronized with her pace, every movement of her hands, every flutter of her hair in the wind—he absorbed them all.
Finally, he returned to the small garden overlooking the river. The sun was melting into the horizon, spilling molten gold across the water. Lyra's silhouette seemed to descend with the sun, fading into the dimming sky, like a crescent moon emerging from twilight. The scene was a quiet symphony, the air heavy with the scent of damp earth and the fading warmth of day.
Returning home, he was immediately met with his family's panic:
"Where were you? We've been searching everywhere!"
"I was playing with my friends," he said, trying to steady his voice.
"Don't lie! All your friends are home!"
Another slap rang across his cheek. Tears threatened to fall, but he swallowed them down. Amid the sting and frustration, a single thought anchored him: Lyra. She alone made all pain bearable.
He sank onto his bed, gazing out at the horizon through the open window, watching the last remnants of sunlight fade behind distant hills. He whispered into the silence:
"I will weave the melody from the breaths of my wish
And entrust the secret… in the sighs of my song
Listen to my heart… for the silence has exhausted it
Oh 'Lyra,' give me… for this wandering is my journey"
Outside, the wind rustled through the trees, carrying the faint scent of the river below. The world was vast and indifferent, yet in the small sanctuary of his heart, Lyra's presence was enough to light the darkness.
Sorin closed his eyes, letting the quiet wash over him. Though the night pressed close and the weight of reality lingered, the phantom of Lyra remained his compass, a lighthouse guiding him through the fog of longing and desire.
As night slowly descends, Sorin sits alone in silence, gazing at the horizon where the last light of the sun has faded, feeling the weight of the world upon his young shoulders. Yet he does not fear, nor does he surrender; every moment of pain and every hidden tear becomes fuel for his heart and soul.
The phantom that accompanies him—Lyra's phantom—does not leave him alone, but grants him strength and courage to face whatever lies ahead. In the stillness of the night, determination is born within him, and every step toward the future becomes a promise to himself: he will not retreat, and his heart will remain luminous, no matter how fierce the storms grow.