The morning air in the Northern Forest carried a chill that clung to the skin, sharp and biting, but Lyra hardly noticed it. What weighed heavier was the way the pack looked at her now. Their stares were longer, harder, whispers curling like smoke wherever she went. A cursed flame, some said. A dangerous omen. Others didn’t speak at all, but their eyes were enough.
She refused to let them see her break, refused to show them the doubt that gnawed at her ribs. Instead, she fled to the training grounds, the only place where she could try to force control over the fire that pulsed under her skin. Every strike of her fists against the wooden post sent sparks dancing, every ragged breath pulled heat through her body like a storm threatening to tear loose. The post blackened and splintered, flam
