The room emptied out. Just me and Lyra now.In my arms, she had almost no warmth left. The iron-poison was working its way in through the cuts on her back. Her lips, her fingertips, the rims of her ears were going translucent."Sister," she said, very softly, "I'm cold."I held her tighter. I wrapped the hem of the long red gown around her."Lyra, let your sister sing for you. Like when you were little.""Okay." She closed her eyes. "Sister… after you sing… will your throat hurt again?""No. This is the last one."I started the Soul-Binding Lullaby.The song has three movements. As the first line left my mouth, the candle flame leaned toward me. By the end of the first movement, my fingertips were going clear. By the end of the second, my wrists were dissolving into points of light, drifting upward — through the dungeon roof, through the cracks in the stone, toward the moon.Footsteps overhead, in the birthing chamber — quick, pacing, back and forth. Damien's footsteps. Eight years ago
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