The room was too quiet after Varion’s departure. The shattered desk leaned at an odd angle, ink pooling dark across the wood, shards of glass glittering on the floor. I stayed frozen in my chair, one hand pressed to my cheek, my other gripping the armrest so tightly my knuckles ached.
The door creaked open again, but it wasn’t Varion who returned.
“Veyra?” Lyra’s voice was soft, careful. She stepped inside, her dark eyes widening the moment she saw me.
“Oh, Gods…”
In an instant, she was at my side, kneeling in the wreckage without a thought for the glass or splinters. Her hands were gentle as she coaxed mine away from my face. I winced as the cut stung under her careful inspection.
“It’s shallow,” she murmured, though her expression was tight, troubled.
“Come with me. Let’s get you
