Lyra didn't move for a long time.
The pendant Kael had given her lay heavy in her palm, warm and almost alive. It throbbed faintly in time with her heartbeat, sending tiny sparks of heat up her wrist. She hated that it reminded her of the locket her mother had left her — same pulse, same strange comfort laced with warning.
The window's glass reflected her face — damp hair tangled, silver-flecked eyes rimmed with exhaustion. She didn't recognize that girl anymore.
Outside, the patrols had passed. The night was quiet again. But inside her chest, chaos simmered.
They didn't kill her because she broke the law. They killed her because she found the Heart of Elarion.
Kael's words looped in her head until they didn't sound like words at all, just noise. Her mother — the woman who taught her to hide her emotions, to smile when it hurt — had found a relic that could change the world? It didn't make sense. It couldn't.
And yet a part of her believed him.
The pendant pulsed again, harder this time. Lyra hissed and dropped it on the table. The metal cooled instantly. She stared at it, breath unsteady.
What are you? she muttered.
A low voice answered from behind her.
Something you shouldn't have.
Lyra spun, heart racing, but the room was empty. Empty — except for the faint shimmer of shadow near the corner.
She reached for her knife. If you're trying to scare me—
The shadow moved. It wasn't Kael. This thing was smaller, thinner, its edges smoky and fluid. A Wraith. The Council's emotional enforcers — fragments of drained souls, used to sense unlawful power.
Her blood ran cold.
The Wraith hissed, stretching toward her. Its form flickered with faint light — her light. It was tracking her through her own magic.
Damn it, she whispered, backing toward the door.
The Wraith lunged.
Instinct took over. Lyra's hand flared with gold, slamming a wave of heat across the room. The Wraith shrieked, dissolving into cinders. Smoke filled the air. The walls glowed faintly red where the magic had touched them.
The noise would bring the patrols back.
She snatched the pendant and bolted down the stairs, cloak swirling behind her. Her boots splashed through puddles as she hit the alley, breath sharp in the cold air.
The streets were mostly empty, but the city never really slept. From a distance, the faint sound of bells echoed — warning bells. The Council had sensed the surge.
Brilliant, she muttered. Twice in one night.
A voice from the shadows replied dryly, You're consistent, at least.
Kael stepped out from a side passage, coat dripping with rain, expression unreadable as ever. How he managed to look calm while the city hunted them both, she couldn't imagine.
Are you following me? Lyra snapped.
I told you to run when it burned.
It didn't burn, it—She stopped, realizing the pendant now glowed a dull crimson. Okay. Maybe it burned a little.
Kael gave her a look — not angry, not amused, just a silent I told you so.
He extended a hand. Give it here.
Not a chance.
Lyra—
You think I'm just going to hand over something you shoved at me five minutes before vanishing into thin air?
He stepped closer. If you don't, the Wraiths will find you again. And next time, they won't be alone.
Then teach me to stop them, she said, eyes flashing. You seem to know everything else.
Kael studied her. His calm was infuriating — like he'd already calculated every possible outcome and found hers the least efficient.
You're not ready, he said simply.
Lyra laughed — a sharp, humorless sound. That's what everyone said about my mother. And look how that turned out.
For the first time, something shifted in his eyes. Not emotion exactly — more like the ghost of it.
You don't know what she was, he said quietly.
Lyra froze. You knew her?
He hesitated. That hesitation told her everything.
How? she pressed. How do you know her?
Kael's jaw tightened. Because I was there when she found the Heart.
The world seemed to narrow around her. You're lying.
I don't lie.
Then prove it.
He didn't answer. Instead, he lifted his hand, and for a moment, the air between them shimmered. Images flickered — faint, like reflections on water: a woman with silver eyes kneeling beside a glowing orb, hands trembling a flash of fire a scream swallowed by darkness.
Lyra staggered back. That's not possible.
I wish it wasn't, Kael said softly.
The images faded. Rain filled the silence that followed.
Why are you showing me this? she whispered.
Because the Council isn't the only thing coming for you, Kael replied. There are others. And they don't want to erase you — they want to use you.
Lyra stared at him. Use me for what?
To finish what your mother started.
He turned away, stepping back into the shadows. You should pack. We leave by dawn.
Lyra blinked. Leave? With you?
Unless you prefer execution.
Her pulse quickened, part fear, part something else she didn't want to name. I don't even trust you.
You don't have to. Just stay alive long enough to decide.
And with that, Kael vanished again — as if the night had swallowed him whole.
Lyra stood alone, rain washing over her, pendant still glowing against her palm. She felt the city's pulse around her — fear, anger, longing — all of it blending into one raw ache.
She whispered to the dark, Mother… what did you do?
The pendant answered with a single, soft heartbeat.