Lyra's POV
Mother fell silent for several heartbeats.
"Every time we stumble," she said with deliberate precision, "the same pattern emerges. You appear before me. You demand that I find strength, and somehow I manage it. I become strong. I push through. You promise me the pattern will shatter." She paused, then continued with renewed determination. "But this burden feels permanent. Like we'll drag this destruction through every lifetime ahead. I can never create enough distance. I don't believe I'll ever gain enough ground."
I remembered the years of mother's silence. The absolute quiet that surrounded any mention of her pack, her bloodline, her origins. How certain questions would send her retreating behind her eyes, returning slightly more hollow than when she'd disappeared.
She was mistaken though. She had escaped. Maybe not completely. Maybe not from every internal battle. But she had traveled far enough. She had gained substantial ground.
