Lucien
The Archive was quiet.
Not silent.
Just listening.
I stood in the corridor outside Mira’s conservatory, the scent of soil and bloom clinging to my skin like memory. The door was still ajar from when I’d left—too quickly, too shaken. I hadn’t meant to run. I’d meant to breathe.
But Mira’s breath had followed me.
And now I couldn’t stop hearing it.
---
The Pack Council had called twice.
Magnus had left three messages.
Delyra hasn’t spoken to me since the bloom.
And I didn’t care.
Not in the way they wanted me to.
Not in the way I used to.
---
I pressed my palm against the wall.
The glyph shimmered beneath my skin—my rhythm, my signature, my claim.
It pulsed once.
Then again.
Then held.
“You’re changing,” it whispered.
I didn’t answer.
I didn’t need to.
---
Mir
