Page 1 of Call of A Eagle

PREFACE

The sense of unease twisting in my gut grew the closer I drew to the cabin. Something was terribly wrong here—I could feel it in my bones.

The air felt cooler, heavier, thicker—suffocating.

I held my breath as we neared the front door. Waylen froze, reaching out for my arm. I looked at him, wondering what he’d picked up on. His eyes scanned the surrounding area, sharp and alert. Every muscle in him seemed coiled tight, causing my heart to hammer inside my chest.

“Stay behind me,” he ground out.

I nodded, even though he wasn’t looking at me.

He stepped forward and opened the door. My heart leaped into my throat. Granny stood in the living room—her eyes glazed over—with a man I didn’t recognize standing behind her.

“Granny?” I whispered, stepping forward despite Waylen’s warning to stay behind him.

She didn’t respond, but the man behind her smirked.

“Who are you?” I demanded, my voice trembling while my owl rushed forward. “What did you do to my grandmother?”

The man’s eyes glinted with dark amusement, sickening me to my core. “Ask Waylen. He can tell you all you need to know,” he replied, his tone chilling.

I turned to Waylen, confusion and fear twisting inside me. I knew he’d been hiding something.

I knew it.

1

LYRA

The cool earth felt damp beneath my fingers as I carefully loosened the soil around the roots of the basil plant I’d been thinning for better aeration. Its herby, sweet scent filled the air, and I couldn’t help but smile.

I’d forgotten how much I loved working a garden.

Even my owl felt content here. While normally the sky called to her, something about this little plot of land soothed her soul, too.

Lifting my gaze, I skimmed the cabin, each garden bed, and the woods surrounding everything. This place had always felt like a sanctuary to me. I loved that it was tucked away from the world and hidden so deeply within the woods. There was nothing but peace here.

It was so different from the city.

“There you go,” I whispered to the basil plant before placing it in its new hole to live in. “Now you’ll have more space to yourself.”

A throaty chuckle came from behind me.

“Are you talking to those plants again?” Granny teased from somewhere behind me.

I glanced in her direction. She stood on the porch, staring at me.

“Maybe I am,” I said, brushing a stray strand of hair from my face and flashing her a grin. “They say it helps them grow.”

“Good thing you’re the one doing the talking, then,” she quipped. “Because if it were up to me, they’d all wither from sheer boredom. You’ve got plenty more to say than I do.”

My smile faded. “I guess I do.”

Failing at life gives you plenty to reflect on and talk about.

It was hard to grasp how drastically my world had shifted in the past few months. I’d been living in the city, working at a nonprofit—doing work that truly mattered to me—surrounded by people who shared my values and loving life. Until the nonprofit decided to downsize.

Everything I’d built for myself seemed to vanish overnight.

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