Luna Lyra
“Keep going. Don’t give up. Reach for him.”
Then, like a spark in the dark, I felt something—a faint, trembling connection.
“I can feel him. He’s woken up. He’s… he’s scared,” I whispered, tears streaming down my face.
“Good, Lyra. Stay with him. What else do you feel?”
I concentrated harder, the connection growing stronger. Images began to form in my mind, a man holding Leo, his arms trembling as he carried my son.
“He’s in the arms of a man,” I said, my voice rising. “Leo’s scared! He’s crying!”