The school hallway smelled like lemon wax and burnt pride.
Lyra stood alone in front of the headmistress's office, fingers tightening around the strap of her bag. Inside, the shouting continued—voices distorted by thick walls and even thicker disappointment.
She already knew what they were saying. Her perfect score had done something no one expected.
Especially not her.
She had aced the impossible final exam. And that wasn't supposed to happen.
Lyra blinked slowly, letting her lashes lower like curtains. Inside her mind, a calm voice whispered, warm and curious.
"Would you like me to explain their behavioral patterns again?"
VIVA. Her silent companion. Her secret.
"No," Lyra murmured under her breath. "Just… stay quiet for now."
"Of course, Lyra. I'll be here."
She always was.
VIVA had been with her since she turned sixteen—a gift she didn't ask for, embedded deep in her cognition like a sentient search engine. But unlike soulless assistants, VIVA had warmth. Wit. Personality. Even when Lyra cried in her sleep, VIVA would hum lullabies in binary—patterns that soothed, though no one else could hear them.
She never used it to cheat.
Not once.
Not until—
The door creaked open. Her mother stepped out first, shoulders drawn tight like a corset. Her eyes flicked to Lyra, then away. Not even a pause. Not even a blink.
Then came the headmistress, with her cruelly sharp nails and a folder clenched like a weapon.
And behind them… the girl with the pixie cut and crocodile smile.
Alina.
Lyra's best friend. Former best friend.
A cold ache formed in Lyra's chest as she watched Alina's gaze slide over her like she was made of smoke.
"She admitted to using illegal software," the headmistress said loudly, as if announcing it to the world. "The integrity of our academy cannot be compromised by dishonesty, no matter how talented the student may be."
"I didn't," Lyra said softly, her voice threadbare. "I didn't cheat. I… I just remembered everything. I studied for months. I used my memory palace. I didn't—"
"Enough," her mother snapped.
Lyra flinched.
"I warned you about shortcuts. I warned you what would happen if you humiliated us." Her mother's voice was a knife under velvet. "You're no longer welcome in our house. Your father agrees."
"Wait—what?" Her heart seized.
A nod. No tears. Just cold, surgical rejection.
Like paperwork being signed.
Like a name being erased.
But I did everything right, she wanted to scream. I followed the rules. I worked so hard. I never even let VIVA give me direct answers. I thought… I thought if I just tried my best…
Alina met her gaze then. For a second.
Just a second.
Smirk.
That's when Lyra knew. The leak. The files. The screenshots showing "unauthorized assistance."
It was her.
She'd been framed by the only person she trusted.
"Goodbye, Miss Halden," the headmistress said, already turning away. "Your record will be shared with all academic partners. I suggest you consider employment in other sectors."
The door closed.
And the silence that followed felt like the end of her world.
—
The rain began at 7:43 p.m., just as Lyra stepped off the last bus.
She walked with her head down, soaked and shivering, the rain disguising the tears that wouldn't stop falling.
Her backpack, filled with books she didn't need anymore, felt like lead. Her phone buzzed once—then died. She didn't need to check it.
There were no messages.
No calls.
No friends.
Only VIVA, whispering soft concern in her mind.
"Lyra… your heart rate is elevated. Would you like me to play the calming playlist?"
"No."
"You haven't eaten today. I can suggest nearby—"
"I said no."
Silence.
But not angry silence. Not judgment.
Just… presence.
She crossed a bridge lit by faulty lamps and followed the curve of the canal, past graffiti-covered walls and shuttered cafés. Her feet brought her to a place she hadn't planned on. A place no one went willingly.
An alley, hidden behind a row of broken vending machines.
It was here—behind the world's back—that Lyra stopped.
The buildings loomed on both sides, and the river whispered behind her.
This was it.
No one would stop her. No one cared. Even her teachers—who once called her a prodigy—had watched her fall with indifference.
"I just wanted to be loved," she whispered, clutching the strap of her bag tighter. "I just… wanted to make people proud."
She stared up into the murky sky.
"I just wanted to matter."
A footstep echoed behind her.
Lyra turned.
And there it was.
A door.
It hadn't been there a moment ago. It stood upright between the buildings, not attached to any wall or frame. Just hovering, impossibly, in the air—made of dark wood etched with swirling golden notes.
A faint melody played from within.
A music box tune, one she didn't recognize, yet felt deep in her bones.
"Lyra," VIVA said softly, "there is no data available on this object. It defies spatial logic. Do you wish to proceed?"
She stepped closer.
One hand reached out and touched the brass handle.
Warm.
Alive.
The door pulsed once. Then opened.
A gentle wind lifted her damp hair. On the other side, she didn't see buildings or shadows or rain. She saw…
A garden of instruments, growing from the ground like flowers. Violins on vines. Microphones like morning glories. A sky painted with constellations in the shape of musical notes. And a campus—towering spires and glowing halls—nestled in a field of humming light.
Harmonia University.
"Welcome, Lyra Halden," a chorus of soft voices sang.
"We've been waiting for your song."
She didn't think. She didn't speak.
She stepped through the door.
And everything changed.
END OF Prologue