I asked Lyra to meet me in the herb garden.

She came immediately.

Lyra settled into the chair opposite me, brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

"You sounded serious in your message," she said. "Is something wrong?"

I had rehearsed this conversation several times, but none of those attempts had prepared me for sitting across from her and knowing I was about to change how she understood her own memories.

"Yes," I admitted. "But I need you to hear everything before you decide what ...