Lyra
They wanted a spectacle.
I gave them the whole theater.
The square was a sea of faces; fierce, furious and hungry for blood. Torches lined the stone, their flames tossing shadows that made every expression look sharper, meaner. Elders sat on raised stone benches like judges of an old gods’ court. Killian stood at my right, his presence a shield and a challenge at the same time. I felt his hand in mine, steady and real.
Around us, the pack murmured, a tide of accusation and expectation. Damon watched from the opposite edge, Selene at his side, both of them hollow with the cruel satisfaction of predators who think that they have cornered prey. He lifted his chin whenever anyone glanced toward him, as though the pack’s fever were his doing alone.
“Lyra,” Elder Haran called, voice r
