The marketplace was crowded, with people from a thousand worlds milling about. The buzz of conversation was loud as vendors shouted to passing customers and the people talked amongst themselves. The aroma of a hundred different sizzling meats and other foods saturated the air. Lyra inhaled deeply, feeling her mouth water. Her stomach grumbled, reminding her that she hadn't yet eaten today.

She pulled her cloak tighter around her and tugged her hood down before making her way out into the throng of people. People bumped and jostled her as she moved through the crowd, none of them having the courtesy to even say, "excuse me."

But then, Lyra was used to it. She was one of the forgotten. One of the invisible in Omera – the capital city on the planet Astriq. Lyra was one of the poor. The downtrodden. The abandoned. She'd been left to forge her own way from an early age. Left to survive on her own.

Left to the wolves, was more how she thought of it.

After – the incident – her parents had cast her out of their home. After what happened, they were terrified of her and didn't want her around. That had been when she was very young. Ever since then, she's had to make her own way. Surviving any way she could. That often amounted to begging or stealing food and money, but so be it. Lyra wasn't ashamed of what she did in order to survive. Shame was a luxury she couldn't afford.

Lyra stopped and lingered near a stand selling meat and fruit pies. The aroma was irresistible and her stomach growled even harder than before.

"You," called a deep, gruff voice. "Girl."

Lyra looked up to see a large man, a native of Astriq, glaring down at her. A ripple of fear swept through her body as she looked into his fearsome eyes. A frown seemed permanently etched on his face and his expression was always disapproving. He looked like the kind of man who either beat people up or tore down buildings barehanded, just for fun.

"Here," he said softly and handed her a bag.

Lyra took the bag that contained half a dozen small pies – some meat, some fruit, all delicious – and gave him a warm, grateful smile. His lips twitched in what could have been a smile, or perhaps was just a tic, but his eyes softened as he looked at her.

"Thank you, Montor," she said. "I'm grateful."

He looked mean and sounded gruff, but Lyra knew he had a kind heart. He once told her that she reminded him of his daughter, lost to him in a terrible accident, and that was why he fed her. She didn't care what the reason was, the food he sometimes gave her helped sustain her and for that she was thankful.

"Go," he said. "Before the rest of the urchins think I'm runnin' a charity."

She flashed him another smile before tucking the bag under her cloak and melted into the crowd. She weaved her way through the crowd of obnoxiously loud bodies, making her way to a small hill that overlooked a pond on the outskirts of the market.

Dropping down into the grass, Lyra pulled out her bag of pies. The twin suns of Astriq shone overhead, sparkling off the water of the pond dazzlingly. A flock of brightly colored birds with long necks, and short, stocky bodies milled in and around the water, their cries almost as loud as the voices of the people in the market.

Lyra ate her pies as she watched the birds and the people around the pond. She watched a family with a small child standing near the water, the parents pointing to the birds floating nearby. A pang of sadness and jealousy gripped her tight. She was never really given much of a childhood. She never got to experience and enjoy the things most kids do as they grow up.

No, Lyra had been put out on the street and left to fend for herself.

Finished with her pies, her belly full, and her hunger sated, Lyra turned her attention to figuring out how to procure some supplies – including food – for the night ahead. That was her life – wake up, find food, figure out how to get more supplies and more food to last the night, go to sleep, wake up and do it all over again. It was a neverending cycle just trying to survive. It was her lot in life.

But, at least she was alive.

Getting to her feet, Lyra walked back into the market. There were a few things she needed to get aside from food for the night. She just wanted to get what she needed and get back to the place she called home, shut the door, and lock herself away for the rest of the night.

Half an hour later, she'd lifted two money pouches, three books, a light, and a pillow. The bag that hung at her side was filled. Now, all she needed was food. As she weaved her way around the teeming mass of people, careful to avoid touching anybody and drawing unwanted attention to herself, Lyra began to feel a tingle on the back of her neck. The hair felt like was standing on end, and a slow drip of adrenaline began to seep into her veins.

She was being watched. Followed.

She'd been on the streets long enough to have honed her instincts to a razor-sharp finish. Her instincts never steered her wrong and had actually saved her life more times than she could count. She often trusted her instincts even more than she trusted what she saw with her own two eyes.

And her instincts were screaming at that moment, that somebody was closing in on her.

Lyra turned and darted quickly down an alley. She reached the far end of the alley before risking a glance behind her. Two large men in dark uniforms, bristling with guns, strode down the alley toward her. Both looked to be human, one with dark hair, the other's head shaved clean, both had thick, bushy beards, and had bodies that were tight, toned, and corded.

They looked like hard men. Battle-tested men. Lyra had been around long enough to know they weren't Astriqan military. Which told her that they were probably bounty hunters.

And for reasons she didn't understand, they were coming for her.

"Oy, girl!" the man with the dark hair called, his voice thick with an accent she didn't know. "Come back here a minute. I wanna talk to ya. I got a couple questions."

Lyra wasn't stupid enough to fall for that and turned the corner, disappearing into the crowd once more. She wanted to move faster, but the bag on her shoulder was slowing her down. She turned down another alley and found a spot behind some dumpsters to ditch her bag for now. She'd come back for it later. At the moment, she just needed to get herself into the clear.

"Oy, girl," the dark-haired man said, as he and his companion stepped into the mouth of the alley. "Just slow down, now. We just wanna talk to ya, that's all."

"Right," Lyra muttered to herself.

She took off down another long alley, the heavy, pounding footsteps of the men chasing her behind her, growing louder, seeming to be drawing closer. Terror-fueled adrenaline coursed through her veins. Her heart thundered in her chest and her breathing was ragged, but she pressed forward. Lyra ducked her head, gritted her teeth, and ran faster.

She didn't know who they were or what they wanted with her. All she knew was that she needed to keep going. Her legs burned and there was a stitch in her side, but she couldn't stop. She didn't know how or why, but Lyra was certain that stopping meant certain death.

As hard as she ran, she couldn't seem to widen the gap between them. They were getting closer. They were closing in. And if she didn't do something, they were going to catch her.

She turned a corner and stopped, searching for an escape. Panic gripped her and whimper escaped her lips, so she mentally chided herself for the moment of weakness. She was tougher than that. Prided herself on it. She'd lived on the streets this long and had managed to survive. This wasn't the first time she'd been chased by somebody – though, it was the first time she'd been chased by bounty hunters. Still, she wasn't the type to give in and roll over.

She would not give in to despair or fear.

The sound of the men's heavy footsteps was growing alarmingly close, so Lyra took off running again, turning this way and that, trying to lose her pursuers. She knew the back alleys in the old section of Omera better than most. And that knowledge was what was going to save her life.

Lyra cut through what was left of the doorway in an old, abandoned building. The ground floor had been gutted as they readied the place for demolition. Of course, they'd been preparing it for demolition for years. And still, it stood. Which, was just fine with Lyra, since it was a shortcut that would put her on a street close to home.

Lyra knew if she could get back to the secret niche she'd carved out for herself, she could lose them for good.

Up ahead was a gaping hole in the wall – her escape route. But Lyra pulled up short, a gasp bursting from her mouth. A man – one of the men pursuing her – stepped into the hole, his large form silhouetted by the light outside. He stood there staring at her. Lyra glanced over her shoulder and saw the second man – the dark-haired man step through the doorway behind her.

She was trapped.

"What do you want from me?" she called, her voice echoing around the large, empty cavern.

"We were paid to bring you to somebody," the dark-haired man called back. "Just come with us and no harm will come to ya."

"W – who paid you?" she squeaked. "Why? I'm nobody. Why would somebody pay you – "

"We don't get paid to ask questions, love," the man said and beckoned to her with his finger. "Just c'mon along now quietly and everything's gonna be just fine."

Lyra turned around and she produced an audible gasp when she found the bald man standing not five feet from her, his hand on the butt of a gun on his hip. She hadn't heard him move. A man that large shouldn't be able to move so quietly.

The other man's footfalls echoed through the empty space, each one ringing through her head like a death knell, as he drew near. She had to do something. Lyra knew if she went with these men, it would be the end of her. She had no idea who'd paid them to catch her or why, but she was experienced and street-smart enough to know it wasn't for anything good.

"Please," she whispered, though, in the emptiness of the ground floor, it still sounded like a shout. "Leave me alone. Please, just go away."

"I'm afraid we can't do that, love," the dark-haired man said. "We do that and we don't get paid. And we like getting paid, don't we Pyta?"

The bald man grunted but didn't say a word. Lyra wasn't sure he could even talk. But, the dark-haired man kept moving toward her, his footsteps slow but methodical. It was like he was enjoying dragging this out. Unfortunately for him, it just gave Lyra more time to act.

It was obvious they weren't going to leave her alone. And it was more obvious what she needed to do about it.

Letting out a fierce scream, Lyra turned and rushed the bald man. It was a move so utterly unexpected that it caught him off-guard and unprepared. As he jerked his arm up, trying to rip his gun from the holster on his hip, Lyra reached out and grabbed hold of his forearm. Gritting her teeth and squinting her eyes, she unleashed the power in her.

The bald man's body went entirely rigid in the blink of an eye. His eyes rolled into the back of his head and a low, pained groan spilled out of his mouth. Lyra felt the energy rushing through her, filling her up. Her skin grew warm and her body began to tremble with the power she was absorbing.

"What the hell are you doin'?" the dark-haired man shouted.

She looked over and saw that he'd stopped moving about fifteen feet from her. Was staring at her wide-eyed, with his mouth agape. Lyra saw fear in his eyes. The bald man was letting out a low, grunting, gasping sound. Her body burned hotter and the power building up within her was immense.

The dark-haired man, seemingly broken out of his temporary paralysis, started to draw his gun, his gaze intense, his jaw clenched.

"What the bloody hell are you?" the dark-haired man gasped.

Holding onto the bald man with one hand, she turned her other hand, palm facing him, to the dark-haired man. Tapping into the energy coursing through her, Lyra unleashed bolts of energy from her fingertips. The bolts struck the dark-haired man, burning into him. He cried out, his gun falling to the floor with a clatter.

The man's body twitched and jerked as he frothed at the mouth, his eyes rolling back in his head. His entire body seized and convulsed like he was holding onto a live wire and still, Lyra continued pouring energy into him.

After several long moments, she felt the energy from the bald man run dry. Like she'd finished draining a cup of water. Lyra opened her hand and let the man fall to the ground. His body hit with a dry thud and a rustle like somebody had dropped a stack of paper. She looked at the man's corpse and he was sucked up, dried out completely. His body was mummified, his flesh withered and gone. He was completely dehydrated and looked like a corpse that had been in the ground for years.

She clenched her fist and cut off the flow of energy she was pouring into the dark-haired man. He fell to the ground, mouth forever open in a silent scream, his eyes wide and fixed in that eternal gaze only death can give you. His skin was blackened, completely charred, and the smell of burned meat hung heavy in the air.

The odor still turned Lyra's stomach. It was something she'd never gotten used to. And probably never would.

She cast a look around, carefully surveying the thick, inky pools of shadow that clung to every corner of the ground floor. A tremor of fear rippled through her. The last thing she wanted or needed was to be seen. By anybody. Her power marked her out as a freak and as something dangerous. Something to fear.

No doubt, that's why the bounty hunters had been sent to collect her.

But, that raised the question in her mind – who knew about her? Who knows what she was capable of doing? How had she been discovered? She was always careful about using her power and there were very few who knew. Most anybody who'd seen her power ended up like the dried up husk or the lump of charred meat on the ground.

But – somebody knew. Obviously. They knew and they were coming for her. Which meant, she needed to be vigilant at all times. Needed to be – and stay – on guard. When these two didn't turn up with her in tow, whoever had hired them would no doubt send more.

Lyra sighed and shook her head. Even though she'd poured a lot of energy into the dark-haired man, she still crackled with the energy she'd absorbed from the bald one. As with every time she used her power, she felt stronger. Powerful. Her senses were heightened and sharpened. The world around her seemed more vibrant.

It would fade in time, but she always enjoyed the feeling of power as it ran through her body. It never failed to make her feel more alive.

Lyra turned and walked out of the building, returning to fetch her bag and collect her supplies before continuing home for the night. Darkness was coming and it wasn't just because Astriq's twin suns would be setting soon.