Lyra's POV
The white expanse of ceiling above me became my focal point as consciousness returned, my mind slowly clearing from sleep's grip.
Beneath my cheek, Kaelen's chest rose and fell in the rhythm of deep slumber. His heartbeat pulsed against my ear, strong and reassuring. My palm found the warm surface of his skin, feeling the steady movement that confirmed he remained with me, breathing and whole. I wanted that sensation to be sufficient comfort.
But it wasn't.
Helga's written words had embedded themselves behind my eyelids, the way traumatic images do when they refuse to fade. Sometimes poison is mercy for the doomed. I had dissected that phrase repeatedly until each word lost meaning and transformed into something else entirely. An opening. A pathway. Something I could no longer ignore.
