**Lyra's point of view**

It was a quiet, sad procession back to Mystic Hollows. Kenny slept fitfully in my arms, his little body jerking at every bump in the road. His dreams were probably full of red light and the smell of blood and ozone. I held him, and my body was a symphony of aches and a deep, soul-level tiredness that sleep could never fix. The medallion was quiet against my chest, its power banked, and it felt more like a lead weight than a source of strength.

Kael drove, and his ...