The quiet didn’t leave her.
It followed.
Not loudly.
Not urgently.
Just… persistently.
Lyra hadn’t meant to listen.
She never did.
But the palace had a way of carrying voices, soft words slipping through corridors, curling around corners, settling where they weren’t invited.
“…it’s not supposed to happen twice…”
“…that kind of bond”
“…and now twins?”
Lyra slowed.
Not stopping.
Not turning.
Just enough to hear.
“…I heard the healer say they’re strong,too strong…”
“…what if”
The voice dropped.
Too low now.
Lyra kept walking.
Her expression unchanged.
Her steps steady.
But inside
something shifted.
Not fear.
Not yet.
Just a question that refused to stay quiet.
By the time she reached the upper gardens, the air felt clearer.
Less heavy.
She exhaled slowly.
Letting
