Page 106 of Shackled By Shadows

Lyra,

I can’t explain everything right now, but I need you to be prepared.

Prepared? Prepared for what? For when?

His vagueness offers nothing but more questions, and yet I can't pull my eyes away from the paper. His handwriting is unmistakable, each word carefully formed, and yet, with every line, a weight presses deeper into my chest. I need to know what he wrote, what he left for me, but the words feel distant. I continue reading with a sense of urgency, hoping that something, anything, will give me answers.

I know I’ve failed you. I know I’ve hurt you. But I want you to know this, Lyra: I haven’t forgotten you. I haven’t forgotten us. I may not know how to fix what’s broken between us. How to fix myself to be what you need me to be, but you are still in my thoughts, in my heart. I don’t know what the future holds, but if there’s any part of me left, it’s with you.

Oberon

The words hang in the air around me, a silent echo in the empty room. I let them sink in, my heart pounding in my chest as I reread the final line. If there is any part of me left, it’s with you. It is the confession I have been longing for, but it doesn’t feel like the kind of closure I imagined. There is something fragile about it. I’m not sure what it means or if it can fix what’s been broken between us, but it is something.

And yet, despite that, the irony of his words strikes me like a slap. Prepared? After everything we just endured, the unimaginable attack, the near-death experience . . . how can we be prepared for what comes next? If he can warn us of any of it, why hasn’t he? Is that the kind of preparation he means, leaving us in the dark, so we can suffer like this? So we can fight for our lives?

I press the letter to my chest, fighting against the frustration that churns inside me. How can he do this to us? How can he leave us with so many questions when we need him most?

But deep down, I know. I know that there is more to this story. More than any of us are prepared for, more than I want to believe.

I stare at the letter, the silence suffocating me. And then, in the quiet that seems to settle over me, I realize how much worse it can get. This war, this mess we’ve found ourselves in, is only beginning. And Oberon, for all his talk of being ready, isn’t here to help us fight it.

I fold the letter slowly, careful not to damage the paper. My thoughts feel scattered, the uncertainty filling me. The words aren’t a solution, but they are a piece of something, a piece of him, still there, somehow.

I move to the bed, the silence wrapping around me. The letter is folded neatly in my hands, but I can’t bring myself to set it aside just yet. Instead, I reach for the chain around my neck, the familiar coolness of the metal comforting against my skin. I let the pendants fall into my palm, and the delicate engravings catch the faint light of the room. I run my fingers over the intricate designs, each groove and curve a reminder of him.

I can’t stop my mind from wandering. Did he feel my fear that day on the battlefield? The same fear that clawed at my insides as I fought to hold onto control, to protect myself and those around me. Was he somewhere, wishing he could have come to my aid? I want to believe he did, but it is impossible to know for sure.

And yet, there was a moment after Keagan, when the world blurred, and I could barely stand, when I thought I saw him. A flicker of shadow, a brush of something familiar at the edge of my senses. I told myself it wasn’t real. That it couldn’t be. But a part of me still wonders.

I close my eyes for a moment, my fingers still tracing the pendants. Can he feel my sorrow now, the ache that gnaws at me with every passing second? Does his heart beat with the same heavy weight, the same loneliness that has settled in mine?

The questions linger in my mind, but no answers come, only the silence, only the weight of his absence pressing in on me. And still, I can’t let go of the hope that, somehow, he can still feel me, just as I can still feel him.

Chapter forty-one

Not Ready

After another restless night, I make my way down to the dining hall, hoping to find some semblance of normalcy in the company of Zander and Ash. They deserve a moment of peace after everything we have been through, a chance to rest and recover.

I only wish I could say the same for myself. Sleep evaded me, my mind circling the same thoughts over and over, the weight of it all pressing down on me.

When I find them already seated, food piled high on their plates, I muster a weary smile and slide into the seat beside them.

I can see the exhaustion still lingering in their faces, the faint shadows beneath their eyes, the way their movements are just a little slower, a little heavier. I don’t say anything. We have all been through too much to need words. Instead, I focus on my own plate, gathering a small portion of breakfast and absently pushing it around with my fork, my appetite all but gone.

Ash is the first to break the silence. “Did either of you get a weird note yesterday?”

My head snaps up, my entire body going rigid. My grip tightens on my fork as I look between them, searching their faces. Am I not the only one?

Zander, ever frustratingly vague, simply nods. “Yes.”

“More of a letter,” I murmur, my voice barely above a whisper.

Ash raises a brow. “A letter? Mine was just some weird note.”

“What did it say?” I ask, trying to steady my racing thoughts.

Ash lets out a breath, leaning back in his chair. “Just ‘be prepared for anything.’ And there was some kind of coded message at the end that felt like a goodbye, but I couldn’t quite decipher it.”