Lyra's POVThe question hung over the battlefield, over the city, over the wound, and over everyone: "What if they choose wrong?"The cult leader's voice broke on the final word—not with anger, not with hatred, but with fear. It was real fear, the kind a person carried for so long that it became part of them, shaping every choice, every sacrifice, and every mistake.For a moment, nobody spoke. The city remained silent as the fracture in the sky hovered above us, waiting. The wound waited too.The cult leader stared at me, desperate, as if he genuinely needed an answer—not as an enemy, but as a man who had spent years searching for one.I looked at him, then at the people around us: the defenders, the former cultists, the citizens, the wounded, the frightened, and the hopeful. All of them. And suddenly, the answer felt incredibly simple. It wasn't because it was easy, but because it was true.I took a breath, then spoke. "They will."The cult leader froze. The city froze. Even Kaelen l
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