The School of Light stood silent in the days following Lyra's passing. The halls that had once echoed with her laughter and her wisdom now held only the gentle whisper of memory. The garden where she had sat beneath the ancient oak tree seemed to mourn her absence, its flowers bowing their heads, its leaves rustling with a sorrow that words could not express. But the light that Lyra had carried did not fade. It lived on in the hearts of those she had loved, in the hands of those she had taught, in the lives of those she had touched.Aria stood at the center of the garden, her eyes fixed on the ancient oak tree. She had been Lyra's apprentice, her confidante, her greatest support. She had walked beside her through every trial, celebrated every triumph, held her through every sorrow. She had watched her grandmother grow from a wise and compassionate leader into a legend, a symbol of hope for the entire world. And now, in the quiet of the garden, she felt her presence all around her. In
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