Chapter 1

Who am I? I can't possibly answer that. There are things about me I cannot even begin to comprehend. I see things, I react to them, I fix them – but I don’t understand how or why, it all just happens – and people worship me for it. It’s some screwed up instinct that decides takes control. Some say it’s a gift, given by the gods. That is, assuming they don’t think I’m a god myself.

Whatever I am, I am no god. No god is really what people think they are. In fact, gods are just people, nothing more. They’re usually from a different species, and therefore have powers that another species isn’t used to seeing. Anyone will worship someone they perceive as being better than themselves. They don’t know any better.

As for me, I’m just a kid… well, a teenager… almost an adult, I guess. I live in my own messed up head, I don’t get much sleep, I feel responsible for the problems of the universe and I’ve been stuck in a depression for years because of it. I’m anti-social, I care too much about everyone in the universe – no matter how they treat me or if I’ve ever even met them before – and to top it all off, I have a speech disorder. A goddess should be a leader. How can someone lead if they can barely speak?

Those who worship me… they don’t see me. The person they see... she's some all-powerful being who sees and knows all – probably someone who’ll protect you if you believe in her and torture you if you don’t. They think that I cause all the natural disasters and deaths and births and… well, everything everyone has to face as part of life. They think I’m fate.

I don’t believe in fate.

I can’t live up to their stories. No one can. There aren’t really any gods, after all, not like people think there are; just a collection of strange people who care too much.

I’m just Lyra. Just a girl.

Every now and then an image or a thought gets thrown at me from who knows where. Then – I can’t help it. I have to go help, because even if the image doesn’t tell me what’s going on I know It’s never good. There’s always someone to save. I can latch onto an image in my mind – any image at all – and just appear in that place; the rest is instinct, stuff I can’t actually do on purpose. Maybe... somehow... I'm not the one who causes it all.

So, I don’t know who I am, what I am or why I am. Don’t you love it?

Lyra’s eyes fluttered open, and then squinted against the morning light. She liked to have these conversations with herself, try to figure herself out. They didn’t usually lead her to the answers she wanted, but they made her feel like she was making progress.

She glanced at the red numbers flashing by her bed. 6:59. Three… Two… One…
“LYRA! UP AND OUT!”
With a groan, she rolled out of bed. She loved the morning, when she got to wake up on her own. The sun shining through her open window in the morning made her feel like it was going to be a wonderful day – and her mom’s wake up call always sent her crashing back to reality. She stood by the window a minute, mesmerized by the beauty outside, and then wandered over to her closet, reluctantly starting the day’s routine.

Denim capris, green tank top, red shirt… good as anything. She tossed her nightgown on the bed and pulled on her clothes, straightening her red collar and leaving the snaps undone to reveal the tank top. She glanced at herself in the mirror and ran a hand through her boyishly short hair to make it spike up, then shrugged to herself and headed downstairs. It didn’t really matter what she looked like – who was going to notice, anyways?



Cain wandered into his first class and took note of his classmates’ clothing. Well, at least I got the right century this time he thought as he realized his clothing wouldn’t be in style for another five years or so. He noticed a couple girls giggling – apparently talking about him – on the other side of the class. He simply stood up a little taller and made his way to the teacher’s desk. He wasn’t here to impress, let them think what they wanted. He was too proud to give them the satisfaction of looking embarrassed, and he couldn’t stomach the thought of acting like a flirty foreign student – either idea could be the source of their giggling. I hate human placements; everyone knows I do, so why do I always get human placements? He sighed, taking the empty seat in the back row that the teacher had indicated. But this placement is different. His thoughts mimicked the words of his superiors in a childlike way. You’ll see.

He scoffed mentally. Humans were all the same, always had been and always would be. They were predictable, selfish, greedy creatures who always wanted… well, everything they could get their hands on, and then more. Either that or they had been trampled by those sorts of people and hid from the world, taking over hidden corners and enclosing themselves in fantasy worlds to escape their pitiful lives.

All he knew was that he had been given this placement because he knew sign language. So this Lyra kid is some deaf loner who is probably going to do great things in twenty years or so if I can get her some confidence and a social life. Just like every other project. Why can’t humans just speak with their minds like the rest of the universe? Then I could be given a thrilling, dangerous placement… someone I have to protect, rather than someone to coach in social skills that make no sense, that are a part of ancient anthropological history in every other realm. Why does anyone bother with humans anymore?

He glanced towards the door as another student walked in and something suddenly clicked in his mind, making him want to hit himself for not making the connection sooner. Lyra. The girl was a legend, how could someone have flippantly announced the name of his next placement and left out the fact that this wasn’t just some troubled human teenager? Some didn't even believe that she was human.



Lyra entered as silently as she always did, head down, hugging her books. She gave a quick, shy smile to the new guy as she took her own seat beside him. Her translator wasn’t there yet. She had been late a lot this last month, which Lyra found more than a little annoying. She loved class, loved learning, and loved discussing – it was really all she had to look forward to these days - but it took two minutes for her to get a simple sentence to come out of her mouth and no one else understood sign language. No one had the patience to listen to her try to explain her views without a translator.

Cain was confused. He had seen Lyra now and then. Always from a distance, and usually in the midst of a crisis, but enough to know a couple of things about her; he was good at reading people, it was part of the job description, something his kind were taught practically from birth. She wasn’t deaf, and he didn’t think she was mute, though he had never heard her speak. She definitely wasn’t shy.

The Lyra he remembered normally gave off a kind of vibe, the kind that warns people of the fact that they’ll regret underestimating her capabilities. This girl looked fragile. Like someone who could easily be used by anyone vaguely intimidating. He sincerely hoped that wasn’t true. There was a lot riding on this apparently timid little girl, and he knew it.

Half way through the class a woman walked in and took the seat on Lyra’s other side. As soon as she saw the woman, Lyra’s arm shot up in the air as though she’d been dying to say something for hours. The teacher looked relieved; she had been trying in vain to get the class of dozing teenagers to answer her questions, to get into some sort of discussion. For the rest of the class the only voices to be heard were those of the teacher and Lyra’s translator as Lyra used her hands to respond to each of her teacher’s points before she had even finished making them.

Lyra seemed to ignore her classmates, though; as though she could only say things if the conversation was only between her and her teacher. The odd time another student decided to say something, or even if someone just caught her eye, she would be quiet for the next few minutes. Even as she spoke, she rarely looked at the other people in the room, her eyes wandering to the desk or the window as though she wished she were alone.



Cain had his second class with her, too – typical – and when the lunch bell rang the entire class was gone faster than you could blink, but Lyra stayed in her chair, calmly finishing up her notes. She hadn’t even blinked at the sound of the bell.

Standing up, he packed his books into his bag and then stood by her desk, in a perfect impression of a teenage boy looking for a conversation that might interest a girl. She finally looked up at him, raising an eyebrow as a silent “what?” For some reason, she wasn’t afraid of him as she was of the other students. He shrugged and chose to speak with his hands, to find some common ground between them, maybe gain some trust. “I noticed you use sign language, are you deaf? Mute?” He thought, from watching her in class, that she could hear, but he couldn’t be totally sure it wasn’t lip reading.

The girl studied him a moment, as though deciding how to respond. “No.” She said finally, her voice sounding alien to her own ears. She wasn’t quite sure why she had chosen to speak aloud; it seemed she owed it to him somehow, though she couldn’t explain why she would owe a stranger anything. “I h-h-ha…” she closed her eyes, taking a deep breath “I… have… a… speech… dis… order.” The words came slowly, each letter deliberately sounded out as she spoke them. He didn’t cut her off or try to finish her sentences for her out of impatience, which surprised her.

There was something about her that grabbed Cain’s attention, captivated him like no one had ever managed to before. “Shame – you’ve got a beautiful voice.” He smiled back when his comment was rewarded with another shy smile – his a real smile, not the usual fake one he used simply to please people. It lit up his face, eyes shining back at hers.

He switched back to sign language, deciding to use what she was most comfortable with – “lunch?” She nodded, the smile growing a little less shy, and started to place her books into her bag.



This is strange. Lyra thought as she showed Cain the way to the cafeteria. No, she corrected herself as she watched the other students passing her, this is normal. Normal for the rest of the high school world. Walking down the hall with a cute guy; one who will actually talk to me.

There was something about this guy – maybe his patience with her, maybe the fact that so few people had ever even tried to speak to her – whatever it was, it made her feel like she belonged, and she couldn’t remember ever having felt that way. They stood in the lunch line, speaking to each other silently and catching each other’s eyes with a smile in reaction to the curious stares they were getting. They weren’t talking about anything in particular. Cain was asking some simple questions about his new school; they had discovered they were in all four of their classes together; Lyra was explaining how best to handle each of their teachers.

Lyra grabbed a chicken sandwich and a bottle of iced green tea, which Cain added to his burger and coke and paid for before she could stop him. She didn’t like favours, gifts, charity. She wouldn’t have accepted it from most people, but she couldn’t bring herself to argue this one.

They took their trays and sat down - and Lyra zoned out.



I hate it when this happens. I’m in the middle of doing something and then I’m just not there. My mom says I have to stop day dreaming, blames it on my lack of a social life, and I don’t bother arguing. There isn’t really anything I could say. She’d think I was insane if I told the truth.

When I get these images, these panicked thoughts, I need to go help. I’d never forgive myself if I just blew it off. If I’m alone when it comes I can leave altogether, just appear somewhere else. If I’m with someone, though, I can’t exactly just disappear – how would I explain that? So I just zone out. I go somewhere else, and my body stays, staring off into empty space, not reacting to anything.

“Lyra?” Cain was stuck sitting across from this unresponsive body. He had forgotten she could do that. Crap. Why can’t they ever give me all the important information? I hate guess work. I have no clue where she went, or if she needs help, or even why they assigned me to her… and all they had to say was “by the way, she can shift mentally without shifting physically”.



Lyra found herself in a place she didn’t recognize. It seemed to be a canyon, but it wasn’t made of the redish brown rocks she was used to – it was grey, maybe even white in the light. Because of the color, and the fact that she was preoccupied with trying to find an exit that didn’t exist, it took her a moment to realize that the bottom of the canyon was littered with bones. They looked like they could be human, though she highly doubted they were, there were plenty of species out there that looked fairly human. Alright, so why am I here? I don’t see anyone alive down here, and as far as I know I can’t fly. She thought, looking dubiously at the opening above her.

She heard voices and squinted in an attempt to make out what was happening above her. A series of cages, all containing people, were being pushed to the edge of the canyon. She wasn’t close enough to see what species they were, but she could guess it was a tribe of some sort. Tossing prisoners into a canyon. How original. What do I get to do about it? So far as she knew, cultural things weren’t for her to worry about, no matter what damage they were doing now. They’d find their way out of it in a century or so. Tribes weren’t usually bad, they just didn’t know any better, and it wasn’t up to her to interfere.

There must be more to it than that. If only I was closer I might be able to figure out what was going on, but I can't do much from down here. She concluded, and felt the familiar feeling of her powers, her instincts, taking her over. The ground started to rumble and she was so preoccupied for a moment with keeping her balance that she didn’t realize the ground was moving upwards. Well, I can flatten mountains, why not fill in canyons? She wished for the thousandth time that her powers made some kind of sense, and that she could control them – though certain people had suggested that if she could understand them she might be able to control them.

When the rumbling stopped, the ground was more or less level and the only clue to where the canyon had been were the bones that still surrounded Lyra. She found herself face to face with a group of about twenty Tharra who had apparently been trying to survive in this desert land, without much luck.

Tharra? She spoke out to them with her mind, sounding powerful enough to intimidate them into listening to her, but also surprised. She had allies who were Tharra, she knew their world, their realm – and this wasn’t it. They were a clan, not a tribe, from a world that housed two other clans. There had been a lot of feuds between them, but the Tharra weren’t a violent race. This sort of behavior from them surprised her. Their race had always tried their best to stay away from even the smallest of feuds back home. There were a lot of problems within their own clan, thanks to the frequent mood swings that came with having three extreme personalities housed in one body, but they weren’t killers.

So how did a group of Tharra end up on another planet, in another realm, taking prisoners and tossing them down canyons?

Your people would be ashamed. She hoped she wasn’t getting the clans confused. She had concluded that they must have been pulled through a rift in space. Their home realm seemed to have more holes than swiss cheese. With a little luck she could get them back. This barbaric behavior could only have been caused by desperation, and getting them back home would take away the desperation. The Tharra took care of one another, if she got them back their clan would look after them.

Making twenty people just appear somewhere else wasn’t something she had the strength to do, but she might be able to open an old rift and get them to go through. She’d done it once before, and she hoped she could manage to do it again.

She convinced the Tharra to help her find the spot where they had originally appeared on this planet, a spot marked by a large rock carved with legends of how they came to be here, and managed to open up a gap large enough for them to slip through one by one. With that problem solved, she returned to what was left of the canyon and let the people who had been their prisoners out of their cages, making sure they all found a way back to their homes before returning to the human world and Cain.  She was in such a rush to get back that she didn’t even give them a chance to thank her, just disappeared as soon as her work was done.


Fortunately for me, humans’ time is a lot slower than any other realm I have ever found myself in. It always feels about the same when I’m somewhere else, but I can come back from a day somewhere else and find that only a few minutes have passed here. Now do you see why I never manage to sleep enough? In one human day I can live a week, and still only get enough sleep for a day at the end of it.

Lyra found herself across from Cain again, and felt her face turn red with embarrassment at having left him there. “Sorry, I’m a bit of a day dreamer.” She signed quickly before picking up her sandwich and taking a bite. An advantage to sign language, depending on your perspective, was that you couldn't talk while doing something else with your hands. Cain just smiled and tossed his balled-up hamburger wrapper in the general direction of the garbage can and deliberately missing in an attempt to make her smile again. It didn’t work this time, though, she seemed distracted – and she was – wondering if he’d taken offense to her mind wandering off on him. She worried too much, and she knew it, but knowing it didn’t change much.