"Lyra?"
A soft, hesitant voice broke through my calculation of the room’s strange, physical layout.
I turned slowly, my heels clicking softly against the stone, to find Candice standing a few feet away. The valley scholarship student was holding two small crystal flutes of sparkling cider, her hands trembling slightly against the glass. Her eyes were wide, and I noticed she was breathing heavily, as if she, too, was trying to recover from the invisible pressure wave that had just swept the room.
"Candice," I said, my voice dropping its rigid, mechanical edge, replacing it with a calm, welcoming frequency.
She stepped closer, a massive, breathless smile breaking across her face as she handed me one of the glasses. "I... I honestly couldn't believe my eyes when you walked through that ar
