LYRA POINT OF VIEW.

I stood at the edge of the forest, far enough to stay unseen, close enough to watch everything.

This was not how it was meant to go.

The air still carried the sharp smell of fear and metal. Leaves trembled where my men had rushed in moments earlier, confident, prepared, and hungry for blood.

I had told them exactly where Aria would pass.

I had watched them melt into the trees, blades ready, ropes hidden beneath cloaks.

“She won’t fight back,” one of them had ...