Chapter 6 — Embers Between Words
The silver ribbon stayed with Lyra all morning.
She didn't wear it. She didn't hide it. She simply kept it in her pocket, fingers brushing its scorched edge whenever silence grew too loud.
At breakfast, the courtiers whispered more than usual. One of them — a lady with emerald rings and a voice like honeyed venom — leaned toward Lyra and said, "The King never leaves gifts."
Lyra looked up. "It wasn't a gift."
The lady smiled thinly. "Then it's a warning."
But Lyra wasn't sure. The ribbon felt warm against her palm, like it remembered something.
---
Later, in the garden, she wandered alone.
The palace gardens were vast and strange — roses that shimmered like fireflies, vines that hummed softly when touched. She paused by a tree with silver bark and closed her eyes.
She remembered the heartbeat again.
Not hers. Not human.
"Are you hiding from me?" came a voice behind her.
She turned. He was there — the Dragon King — dressed in deep blue, his hair tied back, his eyes unreadable.
"No," she said. "Just… listening."
He stepped closer, the grass not daring to bend beneath his feet. "To what?"
"The garden," she replied. "It sings."
He tilted his head. "Most don't hear it."
"I'm not most."
A flicker of something — approval? amusement? — passed through his gaze. "You're not."
They walked in silence for a while. The wind carried petals across the path, and Lyra noticed how they never touched him. As if even nature kept its distance.
"Why did you leave the ribbon?" she asked softly.
He didn't answer right away. Then: "It belonged to someone who once asked the same questions you do."
Lyra's breath caught. "What happened to her?"
"She stopped asking."
They reached the edge of the garden, where the cliffs met the sky. Below, the forest stretched like a sleeping beast. Lyra looked out, her heart heavy with things she didn't understand.
"Do you regret choosing me?" she asked.
He turned to her, slowly. "I didn't choose you."
She blinked. "But—"
"You chose to stay," he said. "That's different."
The wind shifted. For a moment, it felt like the world held its breath.
Then he reached out — not touching her, but close enough that she felt the heat of his hand.
"If you stay," he said, "you must learn to live with the fire. Not fear it."
Lyra nodded, though her chest ached with questions.
And when he walked away, she looked down at her hand.
The ribbon was gone.
But in its place, a faint mark glowed on her skin — a symbol she didn't recognize, shaped like a flame curled around a star.
It pulsed once, then faded.
She didn't scream. She didn't run.
She simply whispered, "I'm not afraid."
And somewhere deep in the palace, something stirred.