The sky was clear when they walked to the border.
A blessing. Lyra didn’t need weather drama on top of a line of half-grown wolves buzzing behind her like overstimulated bees.
“Single file,” Nia barked. “If anyone steps on my heels, I make you spar Luka blindfolded.”
“That’s a reward,” Luka said cheerfully.
“For him,” Nia said. “Not for you.”
Lyra led them toward the shallow ravine where the wards were most visible. She could feel the line humming before they even crested the rise—a low, bright note in the back of her skull, attuned now to her presence.
Cassian and Elara flanked the group, quiet anchors. Atlas stayed back at the house this time, deliberately not looming. This was Lyra’s class, whether she’d admitted it or not.
“Okay,” she said as the shimmer came into view—a faint m
