Luna. Chapter 180

(Lyra's POV)

Oakwood Cemetery at midnight was exactly as creepy as I'd expected. Ancient oak trees cast twisted shadows across weathered headstones, and the soft ground muffled our footsteps as we made our way through the maze of graves.

Victor led us directly to Isabella's burial site, his path sure despite the darkness. He'd obviously visited many times over the years.

"Here," he said quietly, stopping in front of a simple granite headstone that read "Isabella Martinez, Beloved Wife and Mother."

I knelt beside the grave, placing my palms flat on the ground. My enhanced senses immediately detected something wrong.

"Dad, how deep is the casket?"

"Six feet. Standard burial depth."

"I'm not sensing anything six feet down."

Kael, who had insisted on coming despite my protests about the danger, knelt beside me. "What do you mean?"

"I mean there's no body in this grave. At least not where there should be one."

Elena unpacked the portable ground-penetrating radar device she'd borrowed from a friend who worked in archaeology. "Let's verify that before we start digging."

The radar confirmed what my abilities had already told me. The casket was there, but its contents were wrong. Too light, wrong density, completely inconsistent with human remains.

"Someone filled the casket with something else," Elena said, studying the readout. "Sand, maybe. Or weighted fabric."

Victor stared at the headstone like it had personally betrayed him. "Twenty-two years. I've been visiting an empty grave for twenty-two years."

"Dad—"

"No, Lyra. Don't try to comfort me. I buried a lie and mourned a fiction while your mother..." He couldn't finish the sentence.

"While my mother was somewhere else, waiting for us to figure out the truth."

Kael stood up, scanning the cemetery for potential threats. "If Isabella wasn't actually buried here, then someone went to a lot of trouble to fake her death. Professional level deception."

"Malachar," I said grimly.

"But how? How do you fake someone's death convincingly enough to fool doctors, funeral directors, and family members?"

Elena had an answer I didn't want to hear. "Shape-shifting magic. If Malachar had access to the right artifacts, he could have created a perfect duplicate of Isabella. Something that would look and feel exactly like her, even under medical examination."

"Until it died."

"Until he allowed it to die."

The implications were staggering. Isabella's entire final illness, her slow decline, her peaceful death surrounded by loved ones—all of it had been an elaborate performance starring a magical puppet.

"Where's the real Isabella?" Victor's voice was hollow with shock.

"Wherever Malachar has been keeping her for twenty-two years."

I pulled out my phone and called Dr. Martinez, my pregnancy specialist who I knew had connections in the supernatural medical community.

"Dr. Martinez? It's Lyra. I need a favor. A big one."

"What kind of favor?"

"I need you to run DNA analysis on tissue samples. Tonight, if possible."

"Lyra, what's going on?"

"I can't explain over the phone. But if you can meet us at Oakwood Cemetery in the next hour, I'll provide samples and explain everything in person."

"Tissue samples from where?"

I looked at the grave we were preparing to excavate. "From something that was supposed to be my mother."

Dr. Martinez was quiet for a moment. "I'll be there in forty-five minutes."

While we waited for her arrival, Victor and Kael carefully dug down to the casket level. The metal container was intact but felt wrong when they lifted it. Too light, no shifting of internal contents that would indicate human remains.

"Should we open it?" Kael asked.

"No," Elena said quickly. "Not until we have a medical professional present. If there's something supernatural inside, we need expert analysis."

Dr. Martinez arrived exactly when promised, carrying a portable laboratory setup that looked like something from a science fiction movie.

"Explain," she said without preamble.

I gave her the abbreviated version. Malachar's obsession, the fake death, our suspicion that Isabella had been replaced by a magical duplicate.

"If you're right," Dr. Martinez said grimly, "then we're dealing with one of the most sophisticated supernatural crimes in recorded history."

"Can you test the contents of the casket?"

"I can test anything organic. But Lyra, if your mother has been held captive for twenty-two years, we need to involve law enforcement."

"After we confirm what we're dealing with."

Dr. Martinez carefully opened the casket, revealing exactly what I'd expected. Weighted fabric arranged to simulate human remains, but no actual body.

"Definitely a fake," she confirmed, taking samples of the fabric for analysis. "But there's something else."

"What?"

She held up a small object that had been hidden beneath the fabric. "A message."

It was a folded piece of paper, yellowed with age but still readable. Victor took it with shaking hands.

"What does it say?" I asked.

Victor's voice was barely a whisper. "It says, 'She's alive, but not for long. Find us if you can.'"

"That's it?"

"There's a signature." He looked up at me with eyes full of rage. "Malachar."

The bastard had left us a clue. After twenty-two years of torment, he'd finally decided to let us know that Isabella was still alive.

But why now? Why reveal the truth after all this time?

"Dr. Martinez, can you determine when this note was placed in the casket?"

"The paper degradation suggests it's been here for decades. Probably since the original burial."

"So Malachar wanted us to eventually figure out what he'd done."

"He wanted to torture us with hope," Victor said bitterly. "Make us wonder whether she was still alive, still suffering, still waiting for rescue."

I felt my enhanced abilities surge with fury. The air around me began to crackle with barely contained energy.

"We're going to find him," I said quietly. "We're going to find him, and we're going to make him pay for every day he's kept her prisoner."

"Lyra," Dr. Martinez said carefully, "your power levels are spiking. You need to calm down before you hurt yourself or the baby."

I forced myself to breathe slowly, reining in the supernatural energy before it could spiral out of control.

"Can you run DNA analysis on the fabric samples tonight?"

"Yes. It'll take a few hours, but I can confirm whether any of this material came from Isabella."

"Do it. And Dr. Martinez?"

"Yes?"

"If the analysis confirms this is all fake, I want you to call every contact you have in the supernatural law enforcement community. Tell them we have evidence of a twenty-two-year-old kidnapping that involves magical fraud and document forgery."

"And then?"

"Then we start hunting."

Victor carefully folded the note and put it in his pocket. "Malachar left us a trail. He wants us to find him."

"Why?"

"Because after twenty-two years of having Isabella to himself, he's ready for the final act of his revenge."

"Which is?"

"Making us watch him destroy her."

The thought filled me with rage so pure it was almost blinding. But beneath the anger was something else. Determination. Purpose.

My mother had been waiting twenty-two years for someone to come looking for her.

Her wait was over.