Lyra did not sleep again.
She sat at the small table in the command room, the carved token resting in the center like an accusation. Every time the torch guttered, the symbol seemed to shift, edges catching the light in a way that made it impossible to ignore.
Choice waited.
It always did.
Tyler stood near the doorway, half-shadow, half-presence. He hadn’t moved in an hour. Not because he was frozen, but because he was letting her think without interruption.
That was its own kind of intimacy.
“They won’t wait forever,” he said quietly.
“No,” Lyra agreed. “They don’t need to.”
She picked up the token and turned it between her fingers. “If I leave it out, I invite them closer.”
“And if you don’t,” Tyler said, “you send them away.”
“Yes.”
“And Ronan.”
Lyra’s mouth tightened. “He’l
