Lyra
The forest was quiet, too quiet for my liking. Luca hadn’t told me where we were going, only that I needed to follow him and trust him. That was already asking a lot, considering I barely trusted myself these days. The deeper we went, the more the air thickened with the scent of pine, camphor and damp earth. Every now and then, a ray of sunlight would pierce through the leafy canopy, scattering gold on the mossy ground.
“You are walking like you are headed to your execution,” Luca said over his shoulder, his voice light but laced with that unshakable Beta authority.
“Maybe I am,” I muttered, stepping over a fallen branch. My boots squelched against wet soil, and the sound was too loud in the stillness.
He didn’t answer, just kept walking until the trees began to thin and we steppe
