LYRA POV
I couldn't stop shaking.
Standing in the center of the ritual chamber, surrounded by three of the most powerful witches in the Northern court, I felt their magic probe through my mind like surgical instruments.
It hurt. Not physically, but the violation of having someone else sift through my thoughts, my memories, my very sense of self—it was excruciating.
"Hold still," Magistra Thorne said, her ancient voice steady. "I need to go deeper. Whatever this is, it's subtle."
"I researched everything myself," I protested, even as I felt her magic dive deeper. "I verified the sources, cross-referenced the spell structures, I—"
I stopped.
Because I couldn't actually remember doing that.
I remembered finding the texts. Remembered reading them. Remembered being excited about discovering a modified bonding ritual that could save Elara.
But the actual process of research? The verification? The careful checking that I'd been trained to do for decades?
