Aelira didn't flinch as Lyra's blade hovered inches from her throat. Rain dripped from her tangled hair, mixing with the blood smeared across her cheek. Her chest heaved, not from fear—but from mourning.
Lyra's hands didn't tremble.Her golden eyes were hard, cruel.But beneath that unyielding facade, something cracked.
A memory.
A flicker.
A ghost of the girl who once swore never to harm the one who made her laugh on her darkest nights.
This should have been easy.
Lyra told herself that over and over.
She had slaughtered generals. Broken kingdoms. Silenced dissenters. But this—
This was different.
Because Aelira wasn't just her childhood friend.She was her anchor.Her final thread to everything human.
Cut her, and you cut off the last of your soul.Spare her, and the throne will eat you whole.
Aelira's eyes were steady. "If you're going to do it, then do it. Just don't pretend you're not crying."
Lyra didn't realize it until Aelira spoke.
She was.
