Lyra woke to silence that felt deliberate.
Not the uneasy quiet of the forest. Not the cold stillness of the holding rooms. This was controlled silence, measured and enforced. She opened her eyes slowly, senses sharpening as awareness returned piece by piece.
She was still in Tyler’s quarters.
The hearth had burned down to embers, casting a low red glow across the stone walls. Fresh bandages wrapped her shoulder and ribs. Someone had cleaned the blood from her skin while she slept.
That realization unsettled her more than the pain.
She sat up carefully. Her body protested, but the worst of the dizziness had faded. The bond stirred as she moved, a steady pulse beneath her collarbone, neither painful nor comforting. Just present.
A reminder.
The door opened without warning.
Tyler ent
