Chapter 86: The Scent That Beckons
Julian crossed the distance immediately.
Lyria's arms were raised above her head, her movements frantic and uncoordinated as she tried, with very little success, to ward off the swarm of bees that circled her with relentless persistence. Her breathing came in sharp, uneven bursts—too fast, too shallow—and though she attempted to retreat, there was nowhere to go that did not seem equally occupied by the low, insistent hum of wings.
"P-p-please g-go away," she cried.
Julian stepped in front of her.
"Miss," he said, his voice cutting cleanly through the chaos, firm in a way that demanded attention. "You must be still."
Lyria did not appear to hear him.
Her eyes were wide, unfocused, her attention caught entirely in the frantic attempt to defend herself against something she could neither predict nor control. A bee darted too close to her cheek and she flinched violently, her breath hitching as panic tightened its hold.
