CAIRN POINT OF VIEW

The corridor felt narrower than it had that morning.

“Poison.”

The word stayed with me.

It followed the rhythm of my steps, settled into the quiet between them, crept into the edges of my thoughts no matter how I tried to push it aside. I could still hear the maids whispering, careless in that dangerous way people become when they believe themselves unseen.

Lyra’s voice wasn’t there, but her presence had been.

Aria was at the center of it.

I kept walking back ...