The Anima [completed]

The future pressed down, dark and unknowable, a constant reminder of time’s relentless march. It gnawed at Lyra’s side, an irritating ache of growing pains that paralleled the hollow space Lucas Young had left behind. A year had passed since his poster, 'MISSING, YET TO BE FOUND!', first appeared, but Lyra knew better. No one, especially not someone as young, handsome, and tragically foolish as Lucas, vanished for a year and returned from the human world unscathed.

Her calloused hands clenched, nails digging into her palms—a stark reminder that she was still alive, still young, with years stretching before her. A luxury Lucas would never have. His band had replaced him, Amber Rose, his on-again, off-again girlfriend, had moved on, and even the teachers and principal had found relief in his absence. Only Mrs. Aali’s honey Baklava, its sweet scent drifting through the neighborhood, remained a constant.

Yet, time had consumed Lyra too. She was now a tall, seventeen-year-old, her dark curly hair cut short, skin tanned, and eyes perpetually furrowed in thought. Her body, hardened by self-imposed boxing training, bore callouses and a thin scar above her eyebrow. She still sang, but her music had grown darker, clinging to sad melodies that kept Lucas’s memory alive, ensuring she would never forget.