Lyra had spent seventeen years hiding her mark. In the small village of Thornhaven, magic users were feared, hunted, and often killed. Her grandmother had taught her to wrap cloth around her wrist, to never let anyone see the spiraling dragon mark that branded her as different. But as she walked through the morning market, purchasing bread and herbs, she felt eyes upon her. The bandage had slipped. A woman screamed. Fingers pointed. And in that moment, as the village guard moved toward her with weapons drawn, Lyra made a choice that would alter the course of her life forever. She ran...