The first tree stood just beyond the eastern ridge.
Lyra saw it before anyone spoke. The bark had been stripped away in a rough oval, pale wood exposed beneath the dark forest skin. Fresh. Violent. The smell of sap still hung in the air.
And carved deep into the center of it, jagged and unmistakable, was her name.
LYRA.
The bond reacted instantly, tightening like a noose around her chest. Heat flared beneath her collarbone, sharp and warning. She staggered half a step before Tyler’s hand closed around her forearm, steady and unyielding.
“Don’t,” he said quietly. “Not here.”
She forced herself to breathe. “They wanted me to see it.”
“Yes.”
“And you brought me anyway.”
“I wasn’t going to hide it from you.”
That, more than the carving itself, told her everything about him.
The patr
