Chapter 22. Sleep

I was still catching my breath, the faint tingle of power lingering at my fingertips, when I heard Lucy whisper a name-soft, barely audible, but it struck me like a lightning bolt.

“Lyra?”

I turned, frozen in place. The way she looked at me—wide-eyed, stunned—like she was seeing a ghost. Lucy, always so composed and put-together, looked like the ground had been pulled from beneath her.

“Lucy?” I called out softly.

She didn’t answer. Instead, she stepped closer, her eyes searching me as if trying to piece together a puzzle that had haunted her for decades.

“Who is Lyra?” I asked once she was close enough.

She blinked, snapping out of her daze. For a second, I thought she’d deny saying it—but she wasn’t like that. Her shoulders dropped as she exhaled, the name falling from her lips again.

“Lyra… was someone very dear to me.”

The name echoed in my mind. Why did it feel familiar?

“She was a friend,” Lucy continued,