Lyra
The glow of magic still lingered in the clearing like smoke after fire. Embers winked faintly in the air, blossoms shimmered faintly crimson, and the wooden wolf I had woven from the roots had already begun to crumble back into the earth. Only Killian remained steady before me, though his breathing told me he was anything but steady inside.
His hand was still in mine, but it felt taut, like the string of a bow pulled too tight. His storm-dark eyes never left me. They weren’t cold, but they weren’t sure, either.
Finally, he broke the silence. “What are you?”
The question was soft, but it cut sharper than a blade.
Moonveil stirred inside me, silver light pulsing through my veins. He already knows. Tell him.
I couldn’t. Not all of it. Not the part that I had lived and died once alr
