Lyra's POVThe door clicked shut behind Soren, and I sat in the silence of the east wing room, my heart pounding so loudly I was certain he could still hear it through the walls.I had told him.The words I'd sworn I would never speak aloud, the truth I'd buried so deep I'd almost convinced myself it was just a nightmare—I had handed it to him like a confession, and he had believed me.Or at least, he'd said he believed me.I pressed my palms against my eyes, willing the tears to stop. They wouldn't. They kept coming, hot and relentless, carving tracks down my cheeks like rivers of shame.I was so tired. So impossibly, bone-deep tired.In my first life, I'd spent my final months alone and terrified, watching everyone I loved turn against me one by one. I'd died believing that no one would ever believe me, that my death would be just another tragedy to be swept under the rug, another inconvenient truth buried beneath the pack's carefully constructed lies.And then I'd woken up here. Back
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