*Lyra*
I take a deep breath, the smooth curtain brushing my cheek. Beside me, Bram’s hand grazes mine reassuringly. The murmurs swell in the meeting house, families of Song Pack sitting together, shoulders drawn tight with weariness rather than menace.
I nod once to Bram, and we step out. The effect is instant. Gasps break through the hall. Someone cries out, a high-pitched scream that makes the smallest children cling to their mothers.
Before panic can fully take root, Reed’s mother rises, her posture straight, her expression calm. “It’s all right,” she says, her tone carrying authority. “I invited them. They saved Reed and I. We wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for them.”
The room ripples with whispers. Skepticism hangs like fog, but the edge of fear dulls.
“May I speak?” I ask.
No
