Chapter Twelve

The sun had dipped below the horizon, casting an array of pink and orange hues across the sky. The surreal beauty was a stark contrast to the once-dark realm that Lyra had been fighting to save. She stood at the edge of the cliff, overlooking the vast expanse of the ocean as the colors danced on its surface. Her heart-shaped face seemed to glow in the fading light, her striking green eyes reflecting the warmth of the scene before her.

A gentle breeze whispered through her long, curly hair, freeing it from the loose braid she had fashioned earlier in the day. As the tendrils danced around her shoulders, they seemed to be liberated as well, much like the supernatural world she had fought so hard to protect.

"Arthur is gone," she whispered to herself, her voice barely audible above the sound of the waves crashing against the rocks below. The relief was palpable in her tone, the knowledge that his malevolent presence no longer haunted her steps bringing a sense of peace she had not know