It happened with Lyra first, because of course it did.
Not during a training session. Not in any controlled environment where someone with five hundred years of experience could manage the variables and soften the edges. It happened on an ordinary afternoon when Lyra was in the courtyard off the Temple's east wing, sitting in a shaft of real sunlight that came through the only gap in the outer walls large enough to let direct light in, doing the thing she did when she was in that specific spot which was simply sit and exist with complete satisfaction.
Aelara was watching from the doorway. She did this watched from doorways, from the edges of rooms, from positions that gave her a view of both children simultaneously whenever possible. It was a habit she had developed in the early running months and had never managed to put down entirely even in the Temple's safety.
