Senna
My bandages were neat, my supplies lined up just so. Three days had passed since I found that room full of old records, and the wrongness of this place felt heavier. But then Lyra found me.
She was almost bouncing, eyes wide and bright like I’d never seen them before. Her hands kept fiddling with the hem of her tunic, not from nerves, but from too much energy. She practically ran into me in the corridor, her words tumbling out.
“Senna! You won’t believe it, you just won’t!” she gasped, barely stopping to catch her breath.
I paused, holding a stack of clean linen. “What is it, Lyra?” My voice stayed flat, even though her excitement was catching.
“He’s gone! The wolf, the one who… you know.” Her voice dropped a little when she said ‘the one who,’ glancing around quickly. “The one
