LYRA

"You're right," I said, lowering my blade slowly. "I am a weapon, trained and honed and deadly when circumstances require it."

The dark version watched me warily but didn't attack.

"But weapons don't choose themselves," I continued, my voice getting steadier. "Their wielders do, and I choose to wield myself. For protection rather than destruction, for defending those who can't defend themselves rather than serving whoever pays the most."

I took a breath and made myself say the rest. "I ...