Elder Lyrah tried to regain her bearings, but no matter how powerful a mother, how could she control her emotions when she was seeing her daughter for the first time in so very long?
How many years had it been? Twenty years? More?
Tears streamed down her cheeks, forming into beads of ice that sparkled a path to the ground. The light of the silvery moon and the reflecting blues of the planet's rings danced across their complex surfaces.
"You… I…"
Elder Lyrah covered her mouth.
How could a mother not recognize her own daughter? That was what had been taken from her? How many times had she glanced over at Lyra's peaceful sleeping expression, only to casually look back toward Theron as though she didn't know her?
Somehow, that hurt even more than the years they had spent apart. What a terrible mother she was—how worthless was her life if she couldn't even recognize the little girl she had pushed out herself?
