Lyra Wanderlight's Arc

Chapter 11 of 14

The bridge ended at a narrow ledge carved into the cliff face. Lyra stepped off first, her boots finding purchase on damp stone. Diaspor followed close behind, his breath coming in short bursts. The citrine trail overhead had dimmed to almost nothing, but her amulet still pulled forward with steady insistence. The path curved around an outcropping and opened into a small clearing ringed by jagged black stones. At its center lay a pool of dark water, perfectly still. Lyra's amulet flared cold against her chest, the same warning it had given near the skeleton in the grass. She stopped. Diaspor moved up beside her and went rigid. Reflected in the pool's surface stood a figure draped in midnight robes, a blade with a citrine handle raised in one hand. The figure hadn't moved, but the swarm of small winged creatures circling overhead cast shifting shadows across the stones. They weren't following the citrine trail. They were guarding it. Lyra stepped toward the pool's edge, trying to see past the reflection to the path beyond. The figure in the water shifted, and the blade caught the dim light. Diaspor's hand went to his pack where the wolf box rested. "That's the weapon," he said, his voice tight. "The one that killed Kess." The amulet pulsed harder, pulling Lyra forward despite the cold. She could feel the fragment somewhere beyond the clearing, close enough to make her chest ache. But the figure stood between them and the only way through. "We need that fragment," Lyra said quietly. She looked at Diaspor, saw the fear and grief warring in his face. Then she looked back at the pool, at the blade reflected there. The amulet wanted her to go forward. Diaspor wanted revenge or justice or maybe just to stop running. But neither of them knew if they could face what waited ahead. Lyra crouched and touched the water's surface, breaking the reflection into ripples. When it stilled again, the figure remained, patient and unmoved. She stood and met Diaspor's eyes. "We can't go through them. But maybe we don't have to." She pulled out the bracelet fragment she'd claimed from the cave and held it over the water. The reflection of the blade flickered, and for just a moment, the figure turned its head. Lyra had learned something the blade-wielder hadn't counted on: the fragments didn't just call to her. They called to each other. And that meant she could make them listen.