The pack’s compound loomed ahead, its wooden walls scarred but standing, torches casting flickering light against the encroaching dusk. The forest was quiet now, the hum of the city’s bridge gone, the shadow’s scream—my scream—fading into memory, but the mark on my chest pulsed, a relentless tie to her, to the flame, to the Veil’s trembling heart.
The dagger in my hand felt heavier, its symbols faintly glowing, syncing with the shard in Lyra’s grip—the other me, the spark, her blue eyes wide with the same exhaustion and fear I felt. The bond with Lucian burned—his steady resolve, my unraveling certainty, our shared fight—but it couldn’t silence the flame’s words: lock, spark, flame, the Veil’s trinity, to choose. A choice I didn’t understand, but one that held the world’s fate.
Lucian l
