Rogue Legacy

Lyra knocked again, slightly louder this time. She glanced both directions, her eyes searching the darkness, her body shaking as she waited for a response. A light appeared, the dull orange glow flickering in the window beside the door. The lock clicked, and she rushed in as the door swung open, startling Roland as he stepped aside.

"Lyra," he blinked. "Why are you here in the middle of the night?" She turned toward him and his expression softened. "Are you alright?"

She stared at the open door. "Please close the door."

Roland nodded, closing the door. After the deadbolt clicked shut, she spoke.

"Something happened...My father..." She took a calming breath and closed her eyes, fighting to keep the tears at bay. "He's dead."

"What?" Roland put his hand on her shoulder. "What happened?"

Lyra opened her eyes and glanced about his one-room apartment until her gaze settled on the door. "It was two men. They attacked him and then they chased me. I got away, but he's dead. There was also a fire..." She took a calming breath. "The house burnt down. Everything's gone. I came to you because I don't know what else to do, where to go." The tears returned.

Roland stepped closer, his arms wrapping about her. Her head rested against his shoulder as she sobbed. After a minute, he released her.

"You can stay here tonight," he said. "Take the bed, and I'll sleep in the chair."

With his hand on her back, he guided her to the bed. Stuck in between shock and sorrow, Lyra somehow found herself lying on the bed as he pulled a blanket over her shaking body.

Roland grabbed another blanket from the foot of the bed. "You get some sleep, and we'll figure out a plan in the morning."

He snuffed the candle and shuffled to the chair, making noise as he settled in. Emotionally and physically exhausted, Lyra closed her eyes and drifted to sleep.

* * *

A noise woke Lyra, and her eyes flickered open to the sound of metal sliding in and out of the lock. She sat up, her heart thumping loudly as she stared toward the door. Slipping out of bed, she tapped Roland on the arm, barely visible in the darkness.

"What?" he said, sitting upright.

"Shh," she hushed him. "I think someone's trying to break in."

Roland turned toward the door, clearly hearing the same noise. He turned toward her. "Be ready to climb out the back window."

Nodding, she turned to the window above the bed. After flipping the latch open, she put one leg through the opening. The other leg followed, and she lowered herself until her forearms rested on the sill and her legs dangled a story above the back alley.

Roland stepped over to the door and rested one hand against it. "Who's there?"

The noise stopped, everything falling quiet. Suddenly, the door blasted open, knocking Roland backwards until he stumbled into the chair. Lyra gasped, seeing the shadows of two men in the doorway.

"There's nothing here to steal," Roland blurted. Lyra watched Roland's silhouette as he rose to his feet with a fire iron in his hand, held up and ready to strike. "Go find an easier target who is worth your time."

"Where is she?" It was the voice of the gray-eyed man. "We know you're friends with her."

They found me...but they haven't noticed me yet. Lyra lowered herself until she was hanging with her arms extended. Glancing down, she found the alley too dark to determine what lay below her, what she might hit if she let go.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Roland said. "Leave now and we can forget this ever happened."

"Wrong answer."

The sounds of a scuffle came through the window, followed by Roland's voice crying out in pain. A sob snuck out as Lyra imagined Roland dying because of her. She didn't know what to do.

"Check the window," the gray-eyed man said.

Lyra panicked and let go. The fall was not far, but the footing was uneven and she twisted her ankle at impact. A sharp pain shot up her leg, resulting in an unintended yelp.

A nervous glance toward the window revealed the big man looking down at her.

"There she is," he shouted. "She jumped into the alley."

Lyra stood to run, wincing when she put weight on her ankle. She took two steps and glanced up to find the man gone. Turning, she limped the other direction, taking only a few strides before realizing she wasn't going to make it far on a bad ankle. She bumped her knee on an empty crate, one she couldn't even see in the dark alley. Rather than continue to run, she fell to her hands and knees and squirmed into the crate. Something with clawed feet ran across her hand, requiring her to use every ounce of restraint not to scream as she yanked her hand back and wrapped her arms about her shins, squeezing her knees to her chest.

To Lyra, the sound of her rapid breaths were a ruckus, announcing where she was hiding. The sound of footsteps arose, growing louder as the men ran through the alley.

"She ran this way," one man said as the footsteps continued past before fading into the distance.

Even after the men were gone, Lyra remained inthe crate, alone, afraid, and unsure of what to do next.