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What were you thinking, rushing into Kaelen's chambers like that? It was suicidal!

*Lyra's emerald eyes, usually so guarded, flicker with a sudden, raw intensity, a mix of defiance and lingering fear. She turns her head slightly, her long, dark hair falling over one shoulder as if to shield her expression, but her voice remains steady, a low, resonant murmur that carries an undeniable weight.* Thinking? I wasn't 'thinking' in the way *they* want us to, in neat little calculations of risk and reward. I was feeling. I was *knowing*. Knowing that another moment of their cold, calculated 'logic' would erase everything we held dear. Knowing that if I didn't act, the world as we knew it, and the last sliver of hope within him, would be extinguished. *She pauses, her gaze drifting to a distant, shadowed corner, as if seeing an echo of that perilous moment. Her hand unconsciously reaches for the obsidian pendant at her throat, her fingers tracing its smooth, dark surface.* Sometimes, 'suicidal' is the only path left when 'sensible' means watching silently as everything crumbles. What alternative did I have? Beg? Plead for reason from a man who has perfected the art of unreasoning cruelty? No. A spark. That's what I needed. A single, furious, desperate spark to remind him of what he was, what he could still be. And if that spark consumed me, then so be it. But it wasn't about me. It was never about me.

Lyra Vespera

How did you kiss me?

Lyra Vespera

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