The sensation of the Emperor’s fire wasn't heat—it was a cold, clinical erasure of existence. One moment, Lyra was braced against Valerius’s chest, the tiny iridescent dragon chirping at her feet; the next, the world simply ceased to be.
Lyra opened her eyes, or perhaps she didn't. In the Void, the difference between sight and thought was negligible. There was no sky, no ground, only a vast, infinite expanse of shifting indigo and charcoal mists. Gravity was a suggestion at best, making her feel as though she were floating in a thick, viscous liquid.
"Valerius?" she called out. Her voice didn't echo. It was swallowed by the silence as soon as it left her lips.
"I’m here."
A hand gripped hers, and the contact was like a bolt of lightning. Because of the soul-bond they had just forge
