Chapter Twenty-Six
The Shadow did not announce itself.
It never had.
Lyra woke with the taste of iron in her mouth and the unmistakable sense of being observed. Not watched in the way guards watched corridors, or enemies watched borders—but in the way the land itself seemed to hold its breath.
The bond was wrong.
Not strained. Not flaring.
Focused.
She sat up slowly, boots already at the foot of the bed, armor folded nearby. The stronghold was quiet, too quiet for dawn. No footsteps. No distant voices. Even the ever-present hum of the valley felt muted.
Cain felt it before she reached the door.
She heard his boots hit stone in the corridor, fast and controlled. “You feel that,” he said as she stepped out.
“Yes,” Lyra replied.
Elias joined them from the opposite stairwell, expres
