Night had settled over the town, casting long, eerie shadows against the stone streets, and Lyra shivered beneath her thin, worn cloak. She huddled closer to her younger sister, Emmy, shielding her from the cold as best she could. They were curled up beneath an old stone archway on the edge of the marketplace, a sheltered nook Lyra had discovered a few nights prior. It wasn't much, but it kept them hidden from view, and that meant safety—at least for the night.

The wind picked up, tugging at the edges of her cloak. Lyra pulled it tighter around herself and Emmy, hoping to keep them both warm. Emmy shifted, pressing her small body closer to Lyra's side, and mumbled in her sleep. She looked peaceful despite the chill, her face soft and relaxed, with only the faintest line of worry creasing her brow.

Lyra gently brushed a few strands of hair from Emmy's forehead. For such a small child, Emmy was tougher than most would give her credit for. Lyra could see it, even though her sister's spirit had been tested time and time again. They had been alone on the streets for nearly three years now, ever since their parents had died. Yet Emmy hadn't complained, hadn't given up—she simply followed Lyra with the sort of quiet determination that always seemed just a little too mature for her age.

A pang of guilt tugged at Lyra. She didn't want her sister to bear such burdens. Emmy should be carefree, laughing and playing in a warm home, not sleeping on cold stone under a fraying cloak.

"Tomorrow," Lyra whispered to herself, "I'll make things better." She said this almost every night, a promise to herself as much as to Emmy. But tonight, the words felt heavier. She was getting tired—tired of the cold, the hunger, and the uncertainty. She wanted something more than just survival. She wanted to give Emmy a life, a real life.

Lyra's fingers closed around the pendant that hung beneath her cloak, feeling the cool metal press against her skin. It was her mother's necklace, the one thing Lyra had kept when they lost everything else. She didn't know why, but holding it always made her feel a little stronger, as if her mother were watching over her.

The streets were silent, save for the occasional whistle of the wind. Lyra's gaze wandered to the distant flickers of light in the windows of nearby houses, imagining the warmth within. People in those homes were safe, surrounded by family and warmth, blissfully unaware of the struggles she and Emmy faced each day. For them, night meant rest; for Lyra, it meant another test of endurance.

She let out a slow breath, her mind returning to the future she was determined to build. She knew it would take time, patience, and a lot of grit, but she was ready. After all, she'd made it this far.

But she couldn't rely on good fortune alone. Lyra's thoughts turned toward the adventurer's guild, a place she'd often walked past but never truly dared to enter. She'd heard stories from other street kids about the odd jobs adventurers took on—picking herbs, cleaning houses, running errands. They weren't glamorous tasks, but they paid. If she could just earn enough, maybe she could get a proper bed for Emmy, if only for a single night.

She closed her eyes, trying to quiet her mind and focus on the present. Her body ached from the long day, and her stomach rumbled quietly, a reminder that their last meal had been little more than a crust of stale bread.

"Lyra?"

Emmy's small voice pulled her from her thoughts. She opened her eyes to see Emmy looking up at her, her big, tired eyes wide with worry.

"Yes, Em?" she replied softly, brushing a thumb over her sister's cheek.

"Are we... gonna be okay?" Emmy's voice was barely a whisper, the words heavy with a question she was too young to ask.

Lyra swallowed, forcing herself to smile. "Of course we are," she said, her voice steady, even though her heart clenched at the sight of Emmy's worry. "We've made it this far, haven't we? And I'll keep us safe. You just need to trust me, alright?"

Emmy nodded slowly, her expression softening. She leaned her head against Lyra's shoulder, closing her eyes. "I trust you," she murmured, her fingers curling around Lyra's cloak.

Lyra felt a swell of determination at her sister's words. She would make it right—somehow, she would. She had to.

As Emmy drifted back to sleep, Lyra turned her gaze back to the empty streets. Tomorrow would be the start of a new plan. She would visit the guild, see if there was any work she could take on. It would be small, tedious, and probably pay very little. But it was a start. One step closer to giving Emmy the life she deserved.

The first light of dawn began to creep over the horizon, casting a pale glow on the stone streets. Lyra watched it with renewed resolve, feeling the familiar weight of her mother's pendant in her hand.

The path ahead was daunting, but she wouldn't let that stop her. For Emmy's sake, and for her own, she would face whatever came next, one day at a time.