The Council Hall was too quiet.
White marble that had cracked from Kieran's howl, from Elara's willing blood, from Lyra's white howl that closed the creek, now held no snow, no red liquid, no hundreds of girls. Only three chairs at the front, and the t-shirt on the floor where the third chair had been.
First chair: Kieran sat, but not Kieran. Black hair, ice-blue eyes gone white, smile with too many teeth, hands six-fingered on arms where his black and silver blood smeared. Council order that said Elara and Elara in his lap, glowing white-hot. Underneath layered voice, Kieran's voice, exhausted, bleeding through,
"Lyra, run."
Second chair: a woman sat, black and silver hair to her waist, grey eyes, six fingers, wearing Elara's green bicycle t-shirt that had been on the floor but now st
