BACK IN LYRA, THE FAERIES gathered in a hollowed-out tree known as the Community Oak. Rain drummed on the wood above them.
Minister Moriel stood with the other city leaders around a desk in a private room. Ministers Sentinian, Groblen, and Astoun were all present, and each was in deep thought. It took the faeries of Lyra nearly three days to realize that Nahtaia and Oren had disappeared. When humans filled the forest calling out a name, obviously searching for someone, Moriel instinctively knew the missing person had something to do with the missing faeries.
“Death or exile are the only options,” Astoun said with a sigh. Her delicate fingers tapped her plump red lips in rhythm with the rain.
“I think death would only be appropriate if she’d killed someone,” Sentinian added.
Moriel was
