Sleep came very intermittently.

  Each time Lyra drifted toward unconsciousness she saw the creature again.

  Its hollow face turning toward her in the dark, its claws sliding through stone. The sound it made as it scraped across the floor towards her. Julen’s cries as the creature gouged him.

  In the dreams, the wraith always found her before Caelith did.

  The next morning, Lyra made her way down to the healer’s wing.

  She didn’t expect to see Caelith that morning. He’d be hiding his wounds in his quarters, away from any extra attention it may attract. After what had passed between them the night before, most of her instincts urged her there. To see him. To make sure he was alive. To test whether that charged silence between them had truly been real.

  Her fingers still remembered the shape of his hand, the warmth where there should have been ice, the subtle tremor when he’d flinched under her touch. The memory twisted through her chest like a thread she couldn’t let go.

  But threaded through that wanting was something darker: a tight coil of apprehension she couldn’t unwind. The circumstances had been horrifying. The adrenaline too high. She had been certain he was going to die.

  He had pulled away from her too sharply afterward, as if the moment itself had cost him something. Now fear whispered that if she went to him first, she might find only distance where there had been heat.

  She wasn’t ready for that.

  She told herself she was being practical when she turned away from his quarters. That Julen needed her more, that his injuries were worse, that he wouldn’t pretend he was unbreakable. All of that was true. But beneath it lay a quieter truth: seeing Caelith now felt like pressing her fingers back into a wound that had barely closed.

  Julen had never hidden his dislike of the Umbralyn. He repeated the same bitter phrases his father used. About shadows, about monsters wearing faces. But Lyra knew better than most that Julen’s anger was more inheritance than conviction. She had seen the hesitation behind it before. And the night before, when he had asked if she was safe before even asking about himself, she had seen something else entirely, the quiet kindness he always pretended not to possess.

  So for the morning, she chose the safer ache.

  The healer’s wing was quiet, the storm’s distant rumble barely reaching the thick stone walls. Lyra moved lightly between the cots, careful not to disturb the others, until she reached the one where Julen lay. His breathing was shallow but steady; his pale skin was streaked with sweat, and the bandages around his shoulder and chest were dark with drying blood.

  “You’re awake,” she said softly, pulling a chair close.

  He tried to sit up, grimacing. “Barely. But I had to see if my favourite visitor was around.”

  Lyra offered a small smile, brushing a lock of hair from his damp forehead. “I came to check that you’re alive,” she said softly. “Now that I’ve confirmed it, I can leave in peace.”

  Julen’s lips twitched, confirming a smirk, though his eyes were wary. “Thanks, Colwyn. Well, I am alive. For now. But you barely look it. You do still sleep, don't you? Are you hurt?”

  Her hand went to where Julen was staring. She still had either Caelith or Julen's blood dried in her hair. She hadn't even noticed she hadn’t bathed yet that morning; it felt too menial given recent events.

  “Not my blood,” she admitted. “And I didn’t sleep well… again. Obviously.” She sighed. “After last night… I keep thinking about what the fragments were trying to tell us. It was as if they were warning us.”

  “I’ve been seeing things too,” Julen said quietly. “Shadows where there shouldn’t be any. Umbralyns moving through streets they usually avoid. Watching things they never used to watch.” He gestured vaguely toward the city beyond the healer’s window. “…people are afraid, Lyra. Like, really afraid.”

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  Lyra’s brow furrowed. “You think it’s connected?”

  “Everything’s connected,” Julen said grimly. “The Fracture, the fragments, the…thing in the Archive. And the Umbralyns aren’t all on the same side. At least, that’s how it looks to me.”

  The door opened with a soft creak as someone stepped inside. Both Lyra and Julen jumped in response, tension still high from the creature.

  Master Orell’s presence filled the small room with a quiet authority. His gaze swept over Julen’s injuries, lingering briefly on Lyra.

  “What happened?” Orell’s voice was calm, but sharp, demanding accuracy. “I've heard, but I need your accounts. Explain.”

  Lyra and Julen exchanged a glance. Julen’s throat worked as he spoke first, recounting the encounter with the shadowed creature, careful not to name it by only describing what they had seen. Lyra added the details about the shards’ behaviour, their warning pulses, and how the creature had attacked with unnatural precision.

  “Miss Colwyn,” Orell said slowly. “You seem almost untouched.” His eyes narrowed at Lyra. “Convenient.”

  Julen’s hand twitched toward his chest, still throbbing from his own injuries. Lyra looked panicked, as if they were not meant to reveal anything. ““He—he came in at the end. When we were cornered. He saved us both.”

  Orell’s eyes flicked toward the doorway, unreadable. “Who is ‘he’? And what do you mean at the end?”

  “We were there early - just Lyra and I,” Julen said tightly. “One of the Guardians came later, after the creature attacked. If he hadn’t arrived when he did… we’d be dead.”

  “I see. The city will be told what it is permitted to know,” Orell said calmly. "Fear spreads faster than truth.”

  “Yes,” Lyra said softly. “But we… we need to make sure people are safe first. The Fracture is unstable. The shards are reacting strangely. And we don’t know what else might come.”

  Orell’s gaze lingered on her. “You must be vigilant. And trust the elders’ plan, for it is for the city’s survival. You are not alone in this. As for the Umbralyn… if they are not guarding then…” he broke off. "That is neither of your concerns. We must take extra measures to ensure your safety."

  As he left, Julen exhaled, leaning back against the pillows with a faint grimace. “That’s what I was afraid of. Once Orell knows, the whole city will be on edge. And if the word spreads about the Archives…” He shook his head. “It’ll be chaos.”

  Julen waited until Orell’s footsteps faded down the corridor before speaking again.

  “You didn’t say his name.”

  Lyra nodded.

  “I wasn’t sure if we should,” Julen admitted. “The elders already tolerate the Umbralyn Guardians. They don’t need another reason to question one of them.”

  Lyra’s chest tightened. “Caelith didn’t do anything wrong.”

  “I know,” Julen said quietly. “But that doesn’t always matter here.”

  Lyra’s hand brushed against his. “I’ve learned that quickly,” she said quietly. “I do wonder what they’ll tell the others, though. People are already scared. They have a right to know about it. We just… we just have to be ready.”

  Julen looked at her, eyes softened despite the pain. “I know. You’re ready. You always are.”

  They sat in silence for a few moments, broken only by the distant storm and the quiet hum of the healer’s wards.

  Lyra broke the silence. “Julen, you said you see the Umbralyns moving. Do you think they knew what happened in the Archive?”

  Julen didn’t answer immediately. He stared at the ceiling as if weighing his words. “I don’t know. “Something tells me to trust Caelith to handle things like this. And he did, right? He saved us. Yet, I saw him act… differently. He didn’t expect the creature to come for us. That means someone, or something, manipulated the situation. And he risked himself to stop it.”

  Lyra felt her heart pinch. “He… he saved you, too.”

  “Yes,” Julen said quietly. “And don’t let him pretend otherwise. He’s… reckless. And stubborn. But he’s… I think he’s maybe one of the good ones. Even if it drives me mad.”

  Her thoughts drifted to him then, to the wound he had hidden, the rigid control he maintained even while bleeding. She shivered. He was holding more back than just pain. Chains. Restraint. Discipline. Everything that kept him from collapsing still bound him.

  They both fell silent, the weight of unspoken thoughts hanging over them. The storm outside thrummed against the stone.

  “We should rest,” Julen finally said. “I overheard that there is a curfew being set tonight. People will be confined while the elders organise forces for the Fracture. The city won’t be safe otherwise.”

  Lyra nodded. “I’ll stay until you sleep.”

  Julen gave her a faint, wry smile. “Just… promise me you won’t wander off into the Archives alone again. Not after everything.”

  “I promise,” she whispered, though her mind was already racing with everything she hadn’t said. The fragments, the Wraith, Caelith’s injury and chains, and the tension still simmering between them.

  For now, the danger was paused. But outside the healer’s wing, in the shadows of the city and the corridors of the Archives, the Fracture waited. And so did the others - Umbralyns, elders, and forces unseen - moving in ways none of them fully understood yet.

  Lyra put her hand on Julen’s, steady and familiar, anchoring herself to the simple proof that he was still here. His hand was warm in a human way. Solid and uncomplicated.

  Of course, her thoughts betrayed her immediately. Caelith’s touch lingered in her memory like heat trapped beneath ice. It frightened her how much she wanted to feel it again.

  Outside the healer’s wing, a bell began to toll - slow, deliberate. Not a warning. Not just yet.

  It was the sound of the city being gathered.