Lyra lost track of how long they stayed like that. Time had become a thick, heavy thing that she could no longer measure. The room was silent until, eventually, she heard Elara laugh.
A few seconds later, a dull thump echoed through the room. It wasn't until Lyra forced her head to turn toward the noise that she saw it. There, lying on the floor was the gun Elara had been holding.
Tears streamed from her eyes again. They were hot against her skin, wetting the sheets where she lay. A profound sense of relief began to spread through her body, but it felt hollow. As the tension left her muscles, her remaining energy seemed to drain away with it, leaving her limp.
A sweet whisper from Elara broke through the fog that was settling over Lyra's mind.
"How unsavory it is," Elara said, looking at the gun on the floor.
Then, Elara moved. She began stroking Lyra's head. Her touch was soft and loving, and her voice sounded sweet and angelic in Lyra's ears.
