Chapter Ninety-Four
*The Hair*
Lyra found her father in his home study, surrounded by the ghosts of old blueprints. Leonor Louis looked up from his desk, his eyes tired but lighting up with a fragile warmth when he saw her.
"Lyra. This is a surprise."
"I hope a good one," she said, closing the door softly behind her. The Louis house felt different now—quieter, emptier. A battlefield after the war had moved on.
"Always." He gestured for her to sit. "To what do I owe the visit? Is everything alright with the wedding plans? Your grandfather talks of nothing else."
"The plans are fine, Father," Lyra said, taking a seat. She didn't know how to ease into it, so she just said it. "It's about Saphira."
Leonor's gentle expression clouded. "Saphira. What has she done now?"
"It's not what she
