The scout’s words dropped into the war room like a live grenade.
He has your mother.
I felt the floor tilt under my feet. The silver thing inside my chest roared so loud it drowned out the shouts exploding around the obsidian table. Elders were on their feet. Chairs scraped. Someone was already barking orders into a phone. But all I could see was my mother’s face in the garden—gray, terrified, clutching dahlias while Lyra’s silver light flickered over her heart.
Damien’s hand crushed mine. His blood was still warm on my skin from the ambush, but his grip was iron. “Everly.”
I yanked free and stepped toward the scout. He was still on his knees, bleeding from the mouth, eyes glowing with Soren’s borrowed gold. “Where is she?”
The scout smiled through split lips. “Safe. For now. Soren sa
