**Lyra's point of view**
It was a quiet, sad procession back to Mystic Hollows. Kenny slept fitfully in my arms, his little body jerking at every bump in the road. His dreams were probably full of red light and the smell of blood and ozone. I held him, and my body was a symphony of aches and a deep, soul-level tiredness that sleep could never fix. The medallion was quiet against my chest, its power banked, and it felt more like a lead weight than a source of strength.
Kael drove, and his profile looked like a tense and controlled sculpture. One hand was firmly on the steering wheel, and the other was resting on my knee, putting pressure on me all the time. He was a strong man, but I could see the small cracks forming. It was getting to him: his son had betrayed him, he had almost lost hi
