LYRA The mountain wasn’t silent anymore. It groaned around us, ancient and restless, as if it had slept for centuries only to wake because we had crossed its threshold. Dust drifted from the ceiling in pale clouds, coating my hair and shoulders, but I barely noticed. There was only one thing I could hear. “Mama…” The voice was faint. Broken. But it was real. My legs carried me forward before my mind caught up. I ran through the winding corridor, my heartbeat pounding so loudly it drowned out the clashing swords somewhere behind us. “Ares!” Rowan shouted from farther back. “The western passage is secure!” “Keep moving!” Ares answered. His voice sounded distant. Everything did. Because all I could think was— They’re alive. For days I’d imagined the worst. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw empty cribs. Tiny hands slipping away from mine. Fenrir is calling for me. Orion was crying because his brother wasn’t beside him. Those thoughts had become a prison of their own.
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