Days passed, and Lyra stayed hidden, trying to learn more about the jewel's powers. The village elder helped guide her, teaching her ancient lore and stories of those who had once held the Jewel of Destiny. But no one had ever controlled it fully. The jewel was unpredictable, and its power could just as easily destroy as it could create.

One morning, as Lyra sat by the river, she closed her eyes and focused on the jewel. It had been restless lately, glowing more brightly than before. She could feel its energy coursing through her veins, begging to be used. With a deep breath, Lyra made a wish—a simple one, to move a small stone from the riverbank to her hand.

The jewel pulsed, and the stone lifted effortlessly into the air, floating gently towards her. But as it landed in her palm, Lyra felt a ripple of energy—a disturbance. Her heart quickened as she looked up to see storm clouds forming unnaturally fast in the distance.

The elder's warning echoed in her mind. Every action had consequences.