The Song of the Forgotten Heart
↪ by Sonia Bloodthorn
There are stories whispered in the dark corners of 4EverMore, tales of love so pure, so haunting, that they leave marks on the soul of the world. These are not the tales of victory, nor the ones sung in glory. These are the forgotten tales, the ones that fade with time but never truly disappear. This is one such tale—a story of love, loss, and the devastating weight of what might have been.
Long ago, in a time when the moon cast shadows long and deep, there was a woman named Lyra. She wasn’t a queen or a noblewoman, but she held a beauty that could rival the stars. Her laughter was the sound of a summer night, soft and melodic, and her smile could light up the darkest of rooms. Lyra was a healer, a simple woman with a heart full of compassion. Her hands could heal wounds no one else could, and her heart was wide enough to hold the world.
But Lyra had a secret. Beneath her calm exterior, beneath the gentle hands and caring heart, there was an ache. A longing, a hunger for something she couldn’t name. She was not like the others in her village. She was born with a gift—a gift that frightened her. She had the power to see the future.
Her visions came unbidden—flashes of moments, faces, emotions—all of it a blur of images that would unfold days, weeks, or even years later. She could see the pain in the eyes of those she loved before they even knew they would suffer. She could feel the dread of a coming storm long before it gathered on the horizon. And worst of all, she could see the one person who would break her heart—the one person who would tear her world apart.
That person was Dorian.
Dorian was a traveler, a wanderer, a man whose name was known in every corner of 4EverMore. He wasn’t from her village, but when their paths first crossed, it felt as if the stars themselves had conspired to bring him to her. Dorian was everything Lyra was not—he was wild, free, and untamed, with eyes as dark as the night sky and a soul that was both gentle and tormented. He was a man marked by the world, carrying scars and stories of places she had never dreamed of.
Their meeting was nothing extraordinary, at least not at first. Lyra was sitting in the small garden outside her home, the sun just beginning to set, when Dorian appeared as if from nowhere. He was tall, his movements fluid and graceful, like someone who belonged to the wind itself. His voice was soft, almost hesitant, as he asked her for directions.
But there was something about him that made Lyra’s heart race. She could feel it—the connection, the pull between them. It was like the world had paused for just a moment, holding its breath. And for Lyra, that moment stretched into an eternity.
They spoke, and as the conversation flowed, it was as though they had known each other forever. Their words came easy, their laughter infectious, and by the time the sun had set, Lyra knew one thing for certain—Dorian was the one she had seen in her visions. He was the man who would change her life forever.
They fell in love quickly, passionately, as if the universe had decided that they were destined for each other. Lyra had never known a love like this, so pure, so real. Dorian was everything she had ever wanted. He saw her not as a healer, not as someone with a gift she could never escape, but as a woman—beautiful, strong, and alive. For the first time in her life, Lyra felt truly seen.
But as the days turned into weeks, and weeks into months, Lyra began to feel a growing sense of dread. She could feel it in her bones—the inevitable collapse of everything she held dear. The visions came more frequently, more vivid. She saw Dorian, standing at the edge of a cliff, looking out over a vast, endless sea. And then she saw him falling, his body tumbling into the dark waves below.
She tried to push the vision away, tried to convince herself it was just a nightmare, a product of her overactive mind. But deep down, she knew the truth. Her gift had never been wrong. She saw the future, and the future was already set. Dorian’s death was coming. She couldn’t stop it. She couldn’t change it.
The days grew shorter, the air colder, and Lyra’s heart grew heavier. She couldn’t bear the thought of losing him, couldn’t imagine a world without Dorian by her side. She tried to warn him, to make him stay, but he wouldn’t listen. He was a wanderer, a free spirit. He belonged to the world, not to her.
And then, one fateful night, it happened.
Lyra had gone to bed, her heart pounding in her chest, her mind racing with thoughts of the future. She had dreamt of Dorian, standing at the edge of the cliff once more. She had dreamt of the waves, the dark ocean pulling him into its depths. And when she awoke, she knew. She knew it was time.
She ran to him, her feet barely touching the ground as she rushed through the darkened streets. She found him standing at the edge of the cliff, just as she had seen in her vision. He was gazing out at the sea, his expression distant, lost in thought. And for a moment, Lyra thought she might still be able to change it.
But then, as she reached for him, something inside her broke. She saw it in his eyes—he was already gone. The man she loved, the man she had dreamed of, was slipping through her fingers, and there was nothing she could do to stop it.
"Lyra," he whispered, his voice filled with sadness. "I have to go. The world is calling me."
And then he stepped forward, into the abyss. The waves swallowed him whole, and with it, Lyra’s heart.
She fell to her knees, the tears streaming down her face. She screamed his name, but it was no use. Dorian was lost to her, lost to the world.
The future had come to pass, just as she had seen it, and Lyra was left with nothing but an empty heart and a shattered soul. She wandered the earth for years, searching for something she could never find. She tried to heal others, to give them the gift of life that she could no longer give herself, but nothing could fill the hole that Dorian had left behind.
And now, when the wind whispers through the trees or the waves crash against the shore, you can hear her name carried on the breeze. Lyra, the woman who loved too deeply and lost everything. The woman who learned that even love, no matter how pure, can be a curse.
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