Shit.
The words hit hard, too loud, too damn exposed.
I don’t move. Just stand there, facing Beth, everything inside me locked.
Please don't tell me Ezzy heard that...
But I feel it, that shift in the air behind me. The stillness. I already know. I turn, slow, like I’m bracing for impact.
She’s in the doorway. Smile gone. Brows drawn, mouth tight. Eyes wide, and worse—hurt.
“Soit isfake?” Her voice cracks over the word. Not angry. Just… broken.
Behind me, Beth lets out a breath.“Shit, sorry, I thought… You two are so close, I just figured she already knew. Really should’ve kept my voice down. I'd better go.”Beth claps a hand to my back, awkward but not unkind. Then she slips past Ezzy and disappears into the corridor outside.
I take a step forward. “Ezzy, I can?—”
“You know, I thought something was off.” She doesn’t raise her voice; that’s the worst part. “Little things that didn’t make sense. But I figured maybe you had a reason. Maybe there was something you couldn’t say.” She swallows hard. “It’s not even the lie, Lyra. It’s that you toldher. Not me.”
“It’s not like that,” I rush out. “It’s?—”
“Then whatisit?” Her voice trembles now. “You’ve been acting strange for weeks. Distant. Always in the library with Rowan,” She shakes her head. “And then yesterday, I bumped into Brian. He handed me a stack of books, said you’d asked him to get them for me. Books on dragon strike patterns, Thread corruption, historical Reassignments.” She looks straight at me. Eyes glossy. “Itoldyou to stop. Told you to leave it alone. And instead, you used my name to keep digging behind my back.”
“I didn’t mean?—”
“What?” She cuts in. “Didn’t mean for me to find out? What are you trying to prove, Lyra? That the Citadel caused the dragon attack on Ashvale? Thatwe’reresponsible?” She gestures around us. “We’re here toprotectpeople. To keep the peace. Why can’t you see that?”
I open my mouth, but nothing comes out. The words I’ve used to justify all of it—the risks, the lies—they feel so small now.
“Ezzy, please, let me explain.”
She holds up a hand. Shaking her head, her sparkly hairpin catching the light.
“No.” She steps back. “I don’t want to know. Not right now. I’m too angry.”
Then she’s gone, down the hall and out of reach. Finn lingers, just long enough to look at me, just one glance, and whatever’s still intact inside me—whatever I thought I’d salvaged—cracks wide open. He doesn’t even try to hide it. The disappointments plastered across his face.
I could chase them. The instinct’s there—rising fast, legs already twitching like they might move on their own. Say something. Fix it.Do something.
But I don’t. Because what the hell am I supposed to say? That I've been lying to her since I got here, the tunnel, the truce, the fake relationship.Yeah. That will go over well. So my feet stay planted. She’s already gone, anyway and all I’ve got is the silence she left behind, and it’s loud as hell.
Alinor Bloom Entry #205
You turned five today.
I can't quite believe it. You are so full, Lyra. So alive in a way that makes the world feel too small for you already. I see it—stars, I feel it. Your Threads hum like they’re trying to speak through your skin. I thought we’d have more time before they woke. I thought if we just stayed quiet they would too.
But yours were never going to stay asleep. They were always going to burn.
We stayed in the Innerlands for you. So you could learn safely. Grow into your magic instead of being punished for it. Peter and I—well, we made choices. Hard ones. And he was always better at hiding. He could lie like it was a second skin. Knew how to avoid the Citadel’s eye, how to disappear just enough to stay alive. You remind me of him more and more every day.
He would’ve been so proud of you. I wish he could see the way you scrunch your nose when you’re concentrating, or the way you’ve already started mimicking my casting gestures when you think I’m not watching. He would’ve told you stories. He would’ve taught you to dream.
But he's gone.
And not because he was careless. Because I was.
Things had been… off. We both felt it. Reassignments were increasing, Citadel officers snooping in places they never used to. Peter kept going north for scale runs, and each time he came back he looked at me like it might be the last.
