I was exhausted. The blanket carried a faint fragrance. It felt so familiar that it gave me an almost magical sense of safety.
Before I knew it, I drifted into a hazy sleep.
And I dreamed.
In the dream, I returned to the year we were twelve—the day Elara and I were separated.
Our mother had said softly, "Nancy, from now on you and Lyra won't have many chances to see each other. But remember, you're sisters. No matter what happens, take care of each other."
And we never gave up on each other. Even though we couldn't meet often, we still shared every small detail of our lives.
Then the scene shifted to the basement.
"Elara, I'm going to get you out of here. I swear."
"Nancy, go. Don't worry about me. Remember what I said. Find the chip."
In the dream, I curled into a ball, hiding in
