Lyra dreamt of fire that night, the kind that burned wildly or destroyed everything in its path, but a deep, rolling heat that moved slowly beneath her skin, like magma far below the earth. In the dream, she was standing at the center of it, barefoot and calm, watching cracks of light spread through stone as if the world itself was waking up with her.

She did not feel afraid in the dream.

She felt strong.

Then pain struck without warning.

It tore through her chest like something was ripping ...