Sienna’s POV

Celeste stays in the kitchen with me while we put together a pot of soup. I ladle a small portion into a bowl for Lyra and blow across the surface until it’s safe.

She takes a cautious taste. Recognition flickers in her face—her eyes open a little wider—and then she keeps going, slow and purposeful, like each swallow is stitching something back together.

Celeste watches her for a beat, then turns to me. “How is ...