Lyra's POV
Minutes crawled by like hours as I wore a path into the carpet of my suite. The phone in my trembling hands had become both lifeline and torture device, each unanswered call to Cyrus adding another layer of dread to the knot in my stomach.
The text from Daphne burned behind my eyelids every time I blinked.
Hello sister. Guess who is coming to see you.
Each word felt like poison seeping into my thoughts. Twenty minutes of calling. Twenty minutes of Cyrus's name flashing across the screen before dissolving into darkness. Twenty minutes of silence that spoke louder than any scream.
The knock that finally came was gentle, almost respectful. It made my skin crawl because politeness felt obscene when my world was crumbling. Normal sounds in an abnormal situation felt like mockery.
"Luna Lyra?" The voice belonged to one of the Omega servants I'd encountered earlier.
My throat felt raw despite not speaking. "Yes?"
"Your sister has arrived. She's requesting an audience."
