With her sword in hand, Lyra made a swift and forceful slash through the wall, determined to make her way through the thick vines that continued to wrap around her. Despite the obstacles in her path, she remained focused and steadfast in her mission.

She glanced over at her companions; she couldn't help but feel a sense of awe and admiration for their unwavering dedication in their fight against mysterious and wicked entities.

With a quick turn of her shoulder, Lyra caught a glimpse of the Enchantress unleashing her fury in the form of bolts of dark magic. The impact of each bolt was fierce, causing the ground to sizzle and ignite into purple flames and smoke. Thorned branches reached and grabbed at her, tearing her clothes and ripping her flesh. Lyra and the Enchantress locked eyes. There was no need for words, as an unspoken understanding passed between them. It was clear that this was a pivotal moment, one that would lead to an end.

They charged.

The morning breeze seeped in through the cracks of the ancient willows bark, carrying with it the sweet aroma of Lavender and Gardenias. Lyra slowly sat up in her bed, stretching her arms high into the air. She looks out her window and sees the sun is already high in the sky, realizing she has slept in again.

Lyra walks to her chamber window, taking a deep breath as she admires the stunning beauty of her home, Windrun. The valley is rich and full of life, surrounded by an impassable ring of mountains that rise majestically like guardians from the earth, safeguarding the kingdom.

Puffs of clouds travel across the brilliant blue sky, never carrying any rain or snow. They mainly exist for a perfect view for the inhabitants of the valley.

Nestled in the heart of the valley stands the great Windrun Willow. Its magnificent branches and feather-veined leaves droop from the top and kiss the soft grass beneath. During the day, the willow gleams with a golden hue, while at night, it emits a soft, pale blue light that illuminates the surrounding gardens.

After walking through the beautiful doors that are naturally carved into the willow, you become overwhelmed with a magnificent feeling that can only be described as surreal. The great willow looms overhead, its sprawling branches sheltering a fascinating library just waiting to be explored.

Lyra steps out of her chambers, her bare feet making soft sounds on the wooden floor. She walks over to the enchanting spiral vine staircase and descends to the lower level. As she reaches the last step, she quickly and quietly jogs over to a bookshelf and hides behind it.

Books decorate the walls from the roots to the leafy-covered ceiling. Natural light flows through the cracks in the willow's branches and glistens off the pages that slowly float by.

Fireflies fly amongst the stacks, lighting the dim areas. One floats over to Lyra and tickles her ear.

She quickly swats it away, "Shew. I don't want them seeing me."

Lyra sits momentarily, waiting for her chance to dash to the front door. The Keepers are already busy with their daily chores.

The ancient willow has the vital task of organizing and storing newly created entries in the library. It is a protective haven for all the fictional worlds in the mortal realms. Its branches gracefully hold the weight of countless stories, safeguarding them for future generations to enjoy.

It is the Keepers' sacred duty, and they take it very seriously. Whenever a mortal would scribble down a story, it would appear here—drifting from the canopy of the willow tree, waiting for a Keeper to call upon it.

Lyra watches them work, and a young elven takes hold of his pendant carved from the willow's bark. He holds it till it glows; Lyra rolls her eyes at the sight of it. She loves the willow but hates the rules they must follow to keep it alive, like giving up their emotions.

The pendant does that; when a Keeper reads a story and becomes overflown with emotions, they simply hold it. It pulls the emotions from their bodies and feeds them to the willow. Keeping it alive off the power of the written word.

She waits for him to walk by, then makes a dash for the front door. When she looks back to see if she is being watched, she slams into another Keeper.

"Ouch! Lyra!"

"I'm sorry," Lyra's eyes dart around to see how much attention this got her. She makes herself look smaller and whispers, "Excuse me."

She walks around the Keeper with her head down and continues to hasten towards the exit.

Unbeknownst to Lyra, she has already been noticed. Seeker, the elven Headmaster of the library, watches her from the second-floor balcony. He smiles as he sips from his mug.

All belove Seeker; he is a masterful muse of creativity. He is the wisest and oldest of all, though aside from his white beard and hair, you would never guess his age.

He takes a sip from his steamy mug and observes Lyra exit the willow, her grin glowing brighter than the sun. His thoughts are interrupted when a voice echoes through the library.

"Has anyone seen Lyra?" Madam asks all the Keepers she passes. "Where is that girl," she grumbles. The Keepers glance at her, shrugging or saying, "No, Madam."

"I will not tolerate this sort of behavior! Everyone, back to work." She spins on her heels and resumes her hunt.

Seeker watches as she walks away, then he hums an ancient hymn and heads to his office, pushing his suit tail aside and slipping his hand in his pocket.

As Lyra emerges from the library's heavy wooden doors, she is greeted by a gentle breeze carrying the sweet fragrance of blooming flowers. Her gaze falls upon the beautiful buds surrounding her, each unique in its delicate details. She extends her hand and glides her fingers over the petals, feeling their softness and admiring their beauty. As she moves along the path, she whispers soft prayers to the flowers, expressing thanks for their existence.

Every tenth year, when the wildflowers bloom, signifying rebirth, that's when new Keepers are born. When the buds open, it reveals a tiny Keeper baby nestled inside, ready to begin their new life amongst the stacks. They are born from the wishes of small children from the human realm. If a desire is pure, honest, and genuine, the baby will be born of that wish. If a child wishes to ride a magical unicorn, the keeper baby will take to stories with unicorns more strongly than stories without.

As soon as Lyra reaches the old stone bridge, she stops and turns around to admire the breathtaking view. The willow tree is a magnificent sight to behold, one of the most beautiful things she has ever seen. However, being trapped in the valley has limited her exposure to other sights. She gazes up at the top of the willow tree and can see the windows of the glass alcove.

The Keepers gather in the glass alcove every night. They sit wide-eyed and fascinated as the Seeker reads to them from his aging pages. As he reads the words, characters from the tales spring to life; glistening silver images pounce from them and dance wildly through the room. Dragons sore through the bookshelves, and trolls stomp across the desks. Fairies flutter through the air, landing on the Keeper's shoulders, whispering words of happiness into their pointed ears.

This is the Keeper's favorite time of day, for when the night sky covers the valley, they would break from their daily routines and listen to the tales. The younger Keepers especially loved when the Seeker would read to them; imagination blossomed in this room of wonder.

Alas, as many years passed, the stories began to become repeated, which was unusual because stories had been flowing for thousands of years. Unfortunately, the flow of the written word had started to dwindle. Computers and cell phones began to take over the lives of humans. Keyboards and Keypads are being struck more times than a pen is being cradled in their hands.

Lyra raced barefoot through the woods, a smile on her face and excitement in her heart as she left the hard, cold stone and felt the soft green grass of the valley under her feet.

Over time, Lyra had begun to feel more and more like an outcast from the others. Keepers were taught to read and to help with organizing but were forbidden to pick up a quill. Sometimes, they enjoy reading books during their downtime; however, Lyra would always read. She is drawn to the words on the pages, like a moth to a light. She doesn't want to release her feelings; she wants to feel them. That's what gets her into the most trouble, though.

In many instances, Madam Keeper has caught Lyra with her nose in a book, failing to complete her daily organizing. Occasionally, she would even catch Lyra acting out scenes from the books in the forest, pretending to sword fight Ogres and climbing trees to see the world beyond the gardens.

The Seeker found Lyra's antics to be rather comical. He would often chuckle when Madam Keeper would give him the daily report on Lyra's frolics. He was fond of her; she was different from the other Keepers. He had noticed the same passion in her that he had felt as a young Seeker. Words were euphoric; they could change her emotional state in a sentence or two. He had high hopes that one day, she would become a Seeker.

Little does he know a past prediction is about to come true. Lyra will soon discover her true destiny and purpose in this realm. Her life as a Keeper is about to change in the most astounding and eerie way imaginable.

Nothing is as it seems; the balance between good and evil is dangling by a thread.

A sinister dark shadow was about to descend upon the valley of Windrun, bringing dread and gloom to its peaceful inhabitants. Soon, the Seeker would have to reveal one of his best-kept secrets. The fate of the written word and its characters was in more danger than ever before.

Nightmares don't hold a candle to the evil lurking just beyond the pages of a dark-bound book. A book that had been sealed for centuries was hidden in a drawer of the Seeker desk.

How long can a magical spell last? It would seem that the expiration date, on the one cast upon this sinister book long ago, was about to expire. The one to save them all was unaware of the magic she possessed and would soon have to master. As the dark book unraveled its bindings to release its master, Lyra was rooted at the base of an old stone gazebo. Unaware of the life-altering events that are about to take place.