Lyra's POV
The path home was quiet. Too quiet.
The forest still bore the scars of battle splintered trees, scorched patches of earth, the faint metallic scent of blood carried on the wind. Every step we took away from that cursed clearing felt like stepping out of a nightmare, but the silence that followed was heavier than the storm had been.
Kaelan walked beside me, his presence steady but distant. The wolves had shifted back into human form once we reached the mountain pass; even they looked uneasy, like shadows haunted by ghosts. Darian moved at the front of the group, silent as ever, the dark edge of his cloak dragging across the wet ground.
No one spoke for hours.
It wasn't until the scent of pine and the familiar sound of Riverbend's river reached us that something inside me eased just a little. Home. The word carried a strange weight now.
