I was still catching my breath, the faint tingle of power lingering at my fingertips, when I heard Lucy whisper a name-soft, barely audible, but it struck me like a lightning bolt.
“Lyra?”
I turned, frozen in place. The way she looked at me—wide-eyed, stunned—like she was seeing a ghost. Lucy, always so composed and put-together, looked like the ground had been pulled from beneath her.
“Lucy?” I called out softly.
She didn’t answer. Instead, she stepped closer, her eyes searching me as if trying to piece together a puzzle that had haunted her for decades.
“Who is Lyra?” I asked once she was close enough.
She blinked, snapping out of her daze. For a second, I thought she’d deny saying it—but she wasn’t like that. Her shoulders dropped as she exhaled, the name falling from her lips aga
