The world came back in fragments—soft whispers, the rustle of leaves, and the distant howl of wolves. Lyra's body felt heavy, her limbs weighed down as if they were made of stone. Her eyelids fluttered open, but everything was a blur. She could feel the cool night air on her skin, the rough ground beneath her, and the faint ache that seemed to pulse through every muscle in her body.
"Lyra."
The voice was deep, familiar, and filled with worry. Slowly, the haze began to clear, and she turned her head to see Kael kneeling beside her. His face was etched with concern, his eyes dark and intense as they searched her for any sign of life.
"Kael," she whispered, her voice weak and hoarse. She tried to sit up, but her body protested, and she winced at the pain that shot through her chest.
Kael's hand was on her shoulder in an instant, gently guiding her back down. "Don't move yet. You're hurt."
