Lyra's POV
The words clawed their way up from somewhere deep inside my chest. I couldn't hold them back any longer.
"Why does she favor me?"
My voice came out rougher than I intended. Raw. Needy. I hated that desperation bleeding through, but the question had been eating at me since I left that strange encounter behind.
Elder Helga's features grew gentler, understanding flickering across her weathered face.
"When I saw her," I continued, forcing myself to be careful with each word, "everything she said was wrapped in riddles."
The elder's expression shifted into one of those looks. The kind that said she expected nothing less from divine beings. As if gods speaking plainly would somehow break the natural order of things.
"I cannot claim to understand it myself." Her pale gaze never wavered from mine. "The gods bestow their favor where they choose. Our place is not to question their wisdom."
