Chapter Twelve
The wind followed them out of the eastern ruins.
Not the sharp, restless wind of the high ridges, but something heavier, dragging against Lyra’s skin as if reluctant to let her go. She did not turn back. She had already felt the seals settle behind her—strained, altered, but holding.
For now.
Cain walked ahead, his posture rigid, every instinct coiled tight. Elias followed slightly behind her, silent, thoughtful, already turning events over in his mind like pieces on a board.
None of them spoke until the ruins were out of sight.
“They will not all obey,” Cain said finally, breaking the silence. “The Remembered bowed, but others will not.”
Lyra nodded. “I know.”
Elias glanced at her. “You expected resistance.”
“Yes,” she said simply. “Authority that doesn’t come from
