Lyra's POV
“The war has ended!” A maid’s announcement rang through the battered castle, her voice carrying down the corridors. A wave of relief swept over me, yet beneath it stirred a sharper fear. We were to be moved to another stronghold for safety. The thought made me exhale, almost in gratitude—once we left, no one would stumble upon Isolde’s body in that concealed chamber.
As I made my way through the castle, the wreckage left behind was undeniable. The once-glorious halls bore the wounds of battle: tilted chandeliers dangled precariously, and the acrid smell of smoke clung to the air. Servants hurried about, desperate to impose order on the chaos.
My thoughts, however, were elsewhere. The weight of Lady Isolde’s death pressed heavily on me. The fear of discovery—that someone might
