The world was quiet when Lyra woke.

Not in the heavy, frightening way it had been after the poisoning, or the hollow silence of her old cell. This was different. The silence here held warmth. Soft breathing. The distant crackle of fire. The gentle whoosh of wind against the frost-glass windows.

Her body felt heavy, but not broken. Sore in places, especially her chest and spine, but nothing like before. Her breath came slowly, evenly. She wasn’t panicked. Just… still.

And for once, she ...