Morning in the Grey Reach did not arrive with sunlight. It crept in through sound and motion, the low murmur of voices, the soft crack of firewood, the distant hum of something alive beneath the stone. Lyra woke with her pulse still echoing in her ears. For a moment she did not remember where she was. Then the scent of ironwood returned, the unfamiliar ceiling of stone above her, the faint vibration beneath the floor. The Starfire stirred as if it had never truly slept. She sat up slowly. Her hands looked the same, unmarked, unburned, yet she could feel themdifference. Something inside her had shifted, not louder, not stronger, but closer. The room was small and carved directly into the rock. No windows, only a narrow opening where pale ambient light filtered through. A basin of water rested against one wall. A folded cloak lay at the foot of the bed.
Seris was waiting just outside.
You are awake, she said without turning as Lyra stepped into the corridor. That is good. Some do not wake so easily after touching the Veil. Lyra pulled the cloak around her shoulders. I did not feel harmed. That does not mean you were untouched. Seris began walking and Lyra followed. The Reach does not wound the body first. It tests what lies underneath. They moved deeper into the settlement. What Lyra had thought of as a single hall opened into layers of carved passageways, chambers stacked above and below one another, bridges of stone spanning open space. People moved with purpose, carrying tools, bundles of herbs, weapons she did not recognize. Some glanced at her and looked away quickly. Others did not bother hiding their curiosity.
Do they know what I am, Lyra asked.
They know what you might become, Seris replied. That is enough to make anyone uneasy. They reached a wide circular chamber open to the cavern ceiling. At its center stood a shallow stone basin etched with faint runes. The surface shimmered, not with water, but with a soft silver glow. Kaelin was already there. He studied Lyra as she approached, not unkindly, but with the careful attention of someone observing a fault line. You are steadier today, he said. The Veil did not fracture you. Lyra was not sure how to respond. I do not feel different. Kaelin nodded. That is expected. Power rarely announces itself with clarity. Come. He gestured toward the basin. As Lyra stepped closer, the Starfire stirred again, warm and insistent.
This is not a test of strength, Kaelin said. It is a lesson in restraint. Place your hand above the surface, do not touch it. Lyra hesitated, then extended her fingers. The glow responded immediately, rising to meet her palm like breath fogging glass. Her heart quickened. She tried to pull back.
Hold, Seris said sharply.
Lyra forced herself to stay still. The light thickened, pulsing in time with her heartbeat. Images flickered at the edge of her vision, moons drifting through darkness, stone cities swallowed by vines, figures standing beneath burning skies. Focus on one thought, Kaelin said. Not fear. Not power. Choice.
Choice.
Lyra breathed slowly. She thought of the night she ran, of the fear that had driven her into the wilds. Then she let it go.
The light stilled.
The basin dimmed.
Kaelin exhaled. Good.
Lyra's arm trembled as she lowered it. That felt like standing on the edge of something very deep. That is exactly what it is, Seris said. The Starfire responds to intention before action. Lose control there, and the rest follows. Lyra looked down at her hand. So I am dangerous. You are untrained, Kaelin corrected. There is a difference. They moved away from the basin and toward a smaller chamber lined with stone benches. Seris poured a dark infusion into a cup and handed it to Lyra.
Drink.
Lyra grimaced but obeyed. It tasted bitter, grounding. Training will be slow, Kaelin said. The Council will expect you to burn brightly and quickly. We will do neither. Survival depends on subtlety. Lyra nodded. She had survived this long by being quiet. As the hours passed, she learned to feel the Starfire without touching it, to recognize when it stirred from instinct rather than need. Seris corrected her posture, her breathing, the way she anchored herself to the ground. Kaelin watched, offering few words, but when he spoke, Lyra listened.
By the time the cavern dimmed again, exhaustion weighed on her limbs. Seris led her back toward the inner chambers. You did well today. Lyra hesitated. Why are you helping me?
Seris stopped. Because once, someone did not help me. And the world paid for it. Before Lyra could ask more, a distant horn sounded, low and resonant, echoing through the stone. Kaelin's voice carried from the far end of the hall. All Watchers, to the inner ring. Now.
The ground vibrated faintly.
Lyra's pulse quickened. What is happening?
Seris's expression hardened. Training or not, the Reach has been marked.
The Starfire stirred, alert and restless.
Somewhere beyond the stone, something was moving closer.