Lyra’s POVThe world around me went cold and came to a full stop as I arrived at my father's private study. My heart stopped, my eyes growing wider with each passing second as I beheld my greatest fear staring me in the face. I shook my head vehemently, tears rolling down my cheeks as I watched my father lying lifeless on the ground in a puddle of his own blood. Not far from him was the severed head of an unknown man resting near the door. He looked burly and had goodly apparel, like a man I was supposed to know but didn't. “Father…” I croaked, approaching my father with trembling steps. I crouched low, my knees hitting the blood-slicked floor, beside my last-surviving parent now lifeless. I reached out and touched his cold face.“Father,” I muttered again, tears dripping from my eyes onto the floor, some of it landed on his face as I shook my head, wondering what would have happened if I chose to come to his side. “It's my fault. It's all my fault,” I lamented, my heart burning
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