Lyra's POV
I stared at the screen, my heart dropping into my stomach. The same cruel message stared back at me. I tried calling again, my fingers trembling as I pressed his contact. Nothing changed.
Dad would never block my number. The man could barely send a text without accidentally deleting half of it first. I'd spent countless afternoons showing him how to use basic phone functions, watching him squint at the screen like it might bite him. He definitely didn't know how to block someone.
Someone else had gotten to his phone. Someone who wanted me completely cut off from him.
Daphne or Helena. Those two venomous snakes had probably filled his ears with lies about me. Convinced him I was some kind of threat. That I'd attacked Daphne unprovoked. That cutting me off was the only way to keep everyone safe.
My phone screen went black, the battery finally giving up. I shoved the dead weight back into my pocket and kept moving through the thick underbrush.
The plan hadn't changed. Get back to Willow Brook. Find Dad. Force him to listen to my side of the story. He'd believe me once we were face to face. Once I could look him in the eyes and tell him the truth about what really happened. Daphne and Helena could weave all the lies they wanted, but I was still his daughter. That bond had to mean something.
It had to.
The trees pressed closer together as I pushed deeper into the forest. Thick branches tangled overhead, blocking out most of the sunlight. Thorny bushes caught at the remnants of my wedding dress with every step. My feet were a bloody mess, cut up from rocks and roots, but I couldn't stop. The dress hung in shreds around me. I'd ripped away most of the skirt hours ago just so I could walk without tripping. The bodice clung to me, torn and stained, but it was all I had left.
Time moved strangely in this green prison. The sun shifted position above the canopy, casting different patterns of light and shadow across the forest floor. I'd been walking for hours, but it felt like days. Or maybe minutes. My sense of direction had vanished completely.
I should have hit a road by now. A stream. A hiking trail. Something that proved civilization still existed somewhere beyond these endless trees.
But there was nothing. Just more forest stretching in every direction.
A dull ache started building behind my eyes. At first it was barely noticeable, just a whisper of pain. Then it sharpened, like someone driving nails into my skull from the inside.
Dehydration. Had to be. I hadn't touched water since before the wedding. Hell, I hadn't eaten or drunk anything that morning, too nervous about the ceremony to keep anything down.
Water. I needed to find water before this headache got worse.
The dizziness slammed into me without warning. One moment I was walking steadily through the trees. The next, the entire world pitched sideways like I was on a boat in rough seas. I stumbled, barely catching myself against a massive oak trunk. The bark scraped against my palms as I pressed my forehead to its rough surface, waiting for the spinning to stop.
Something was very wrong.
This wasn't normal dehydration. This felt different. Dangerous.
I forced myself to look down at where I'd been walking. The forest floor was carpeted with small purple flowers. Each bloom had five delicate petals that started pale lilac at the edges and deepened to rich violet at the center. They swayed gently despite the complete lack of breeze, like they were dancing to music I couldn't hear.
They were almost beautiful in their strangeness, a splash of color against the browns and greens surrounding me. Then my blood turned to ice.
Recognition hit me like a punch to the gut.
Mourning moon. The name surfaced from a memory I'd tried to bury. Arthur had shown me a field guide once, back when I was learning to track. He'd made me memorize every poisonous plant in our territory, drilling the information into me until I could recite it in my sleep.
Mourning moon flowers released airborne toxins. Their pollen was designed to confuse and disorient prey, making them easier to catch for the carnivorous vines that usually grew nearby. The sweet, barely noticeable scent would build up in your system slowly, causing dizziness, nausea, and eventually complete collapse.
My chest constricted as panic flooded my system. I'd been walking through these flowers for hours. Breathing in their poison with every step. The headache, the spinning sensation, the strange way time seemed to slip past me, it all made perfect sense now.
This was basic Tracker knowledge. A trap any competent hunter should have spotted immediately. How had I been so careless? How had I walked straight into something so obvious?
I staggered backward, but it was pointless. The flowers weren't just in this one spot. They were everywhere. Scattered through the moss, hidden under ferns, lining the path I'd been following for miles. Their deadly pollen hung in the air like invisible fog. Every breath I took made it worse.
Terror gave me strength I didn't know I still had. I turned and ran, crashing through branches that tore at my arms and caught at the ruined dress. I ripped away more fabric and kept going, my lungs burning, my heart hammering against my ribs like it wanted to escape.
The forest became a blur of green and brown. My breathing came in harsh gasps. The path twisted and dipped, but I didn't slow down. If I stopped now, I'd never get up again.
Through the chaos of my desperate flight, I spotted something that made hope flare in my chest. A break in the canopy ahead. A strip of gray cutting through the green maze.
Pavement. A road.
I pushed my failing body harder, even as my vision started to tunnel. The edges of the world went dark, but that precious strip of gray stayed visible ahead of me.
My foot caught on an exposed root. I went down hard, skinning my hands on the dirt. The impact knocked what little breath I had left from my lungs, but I crawled forward anyway. The sickly sweet scent of mourning moon clung to my clothes and hair. My fingers finally touched blessed gravel.
I'd made it to the road.
Relief crashed over me so powerfully it felt like another physical blow. Someone would come. Someone had to. A car, a truck, a motorcycle, anything. I just had to stay conscious long enough to be seen.
I tried to drag myself further onto the asphalt, but my arms gave out completely. The sky wheeled overhead, a bright slash of blue between the treetops. My eyelids felt like they weighed a thousand pounds.
Darkness swallowed me whole.