Lyra woke choking.Dust coated her tongue, her teeth, and the inside of her throat like ash forced into flesh. She coughed hard, the sound tearing out of her chest until pain flared behind her ribs.Her hands scrabbled blindly against the stone.Cold.Rough.Unforgiving.When she forced her eyes open, the world was gray and fractured. Light filtered through narrow cracks above, thin beams that barely reached the ground. Everything else was shadow and debris, a suffocating chamber made from collapsed tunnel walls and broken support slabs.Her head throbbed.Blood trickled from her temple, warm against cold dust.Lyra pushed herself up, body trembling. The tunnel around her was no longer a passage.It was a tomb that hadn’t decided whether to seal fully.Shapes moved in the dimness.Wolves.Trapped.Some lay motionless, half-buried beneath stone fragments. Others were awake, coughing, crawling, trying to shift rubble away with shaking hands.Panic spread like a fever."Help, help me!”“
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