Chapter 3

Father’s impatience filled the pack link.

“Why aren’t you back yet? Elara is about to begin the second trial, and she’s still waiting for her stabilizing potion.”

Mother looked at the unopened door, the master key still raised in her hand.

“I’ll deal with you after the trial.”

She returned the master key to her belt and carried the potion out of the underground corridor.

She had come all the way back, yet one reminder that Elara needed her potion was enough to make her leave without opening the door.

Apparently, my life was worth less than a vial of stabilizing potion.

My body remained against the silver door, one arm frozen in the act of knocking, while the failed internal relay kept the cooling system running behind the insulated door and the status light outside remained green.

Elara hurried over when she returned.

“Did you see Lyra? Is she all right?”

“I called to her, but she refused to answer.” Mother offered her the potion. “I promised to speak to the academy instructors, but she still won’t stop. Don’t let her distract you.”

Elara did not take it immediately. “Did you open the door?”

“I went to the door. She’s sulking.”

Father called from the entrance, forcing Elara to take the potion and enter the second trial.

That night, she returned to the rest chamber and messaged me before even changing out of her training clothes.

“Lyra, the spare key is behind the bottom shelf. Turn it in the lock, and you can get out.”

Elara had hidden the key before the trial, but she had never told me where it was. Her message arrived after I was already dead.

“I left a meat pie in the kitchen oven. Heat it first. Your stomach will hurt if you eat after going hungry for too long.”

Behind the shelf, an old medicine box held honey oat cakes, recovery potions, and a warming stone. Elara had prepared everything before the trial, expecting our parents to lock me in again.

She never knew our parents scolded her whenever she secretly brought me food. Later, I ate only half of what she hid and carefully wrapped the rest.

I hid the wrappers before anyone checked the room, hoping they would believe Elara had obeyed them.

The pain in my stomach always passed. I could not let her be punished because of me.

This time, the box was still full. It sat only a few steps from my body, but nothing inside it could help me now.

The next morning, Elara found her messages unanswered and ran into Mother’s room with her training clothes still unfastened.

“Lyra hasn’t replied. There’s a security camera in the winter store, isn’t there? Let me see her.”

Mother tightened a wrist-guard clasp. “She knows you’ll worry. She wants you to abandon the trial and go home.”

“I only want to know if she’s alive.”

Elara refused to leave, so Mother opened the surveillance app.

The dim image slowly loaded. From its high angle, the storage rack obscured the corner beside the silver door, leaving only the edge of my cloak and a motionless, curled silhouette visible.

Elara activated the speaker. “Lyra, the spare key is behind the bottom shelf. Get up, unlock the door, and eat something.”

My body did not move.

Mother took the phone. “You know where the key is. Get up and stop frightening Elara.”

Elara enlarged the image, but the high storage rack and the folds of my cloak hid my face and hands.

“She hasn’t changed position.” Elara reached for the phone. “Mom, zoom in.”

Mother watched, then chose the explanation that required the least from her.

“She used to pretend to faint whenever she wanted attention. If we ignore her, she’ll get up.”

Calling it another performance allowed Mother to stay for Elara’s trial. Going home would force her to open the door and face the possibility that she had been wrong.

“She was seven,” Elara said. “And she really had a fever.”

Mother pulled the phone beyond her reach. “Lyra, if you care about Elara at all, stand up. Don’t ruin her final trial with another trick.”

She ended the feed and placed the phone facedown. Elara remained beside the dark screen, her hand still suspended above it.

She was the only person in our family beginning to understand that I might never stand again.