Amelia’s POV

My mouth went dry. I knew he was only guessing, but the room still seemed to tilt.

Relax, Lyra said, amused. You’re not going to explode.

I swallowed and looked down at the painting again. The woman under the moon. The glowing hands. The crescent mark. It all felt too close.

Samantha turned another page and pointed to a line of notes in simple handwriting. “These refer to moon-thread—violet light within silver eyes. It shows up rarely, and only in wolves tied to certain ...