She found it hard to leave her bed the next morning, the exhaustion of the past few weeks finally taking hold.

  When she eventually did, a summons from the council was already waiting.

  Dawn had barely broken when she crossed the square toward the chambers. The air carried the cold scent of rain and powdered glass. Above the rooftops, the fractured spire loomed against the pale sky, its scaffolded ribs trembling faintly in the wind like a wounded bird trying to remain upright.

  She had slept poorly. The fragments had pulsed faintly through the night, their restless hum threading through her dreams. And each time she woke, she remembered the moment in Caelith’s chamber when the memory stone had glowed beneath his gaze.

  Curiously, the thought unsettled her more than the tremors and what might lay ahead for the City.

  Rain-darkened flagstones glistened beneath her boots as she crossed the northern quarter. Runes burned faintly along the barricades sealing the damaged streets, their silver light marking the boundary no citizen was meant to cross.

  The city held its breath around the wound.

  By the time Lyra reached the council chamber, the guards’ stares had already found her. She ignored them and stepped inside.

  The council convened beneath the white dome of the chamber, candles flickering in the drafts that slipped through the high windows. Advisors and scribes lined the circular table, their quiet conversations hushed with tension.

  The Fracture had always been a matter of study. Now it had become a matter of survival.

  “The eastern spire remains standing only through luck,” one councillor said sharply. “The fractures beneath the cliffs are widening. As the closest city of the Fracture, our wards cannot sustain this indefinitely. It seems our friends at Meridon and our contacts across the Lost Villages have made it clear that we are to fight this battle alone. ”

  A map of the city lay spread across the table. Small crystal markers marked the locations of recovered fragments, their faint sigil echoes pulsing against the parchment.

  Lyra felt the familiar prickle beneath her skin. The fragments were listening. Just like last night.

  “We will deploy additional Umbralyn units to the fracture zones,” another councillor said. “Some will remain here to assist the scholars in stabilising the recovered shards. The rest will contain any incursions.”

  Lyra folded her hands tightly in her lap, pressing her fingers together in frustration.

  “The fragments have apparently changed. They speak differently than usual, and are harder to decipher since the last tremor. Therefore the scribes’ working hours will be extended until we understand these changes.”

  “Every fragment now hums,” she murmured, barely aware she had spoken.

  Julen’s elbow nudged hers immediately. “Lyra,” he muttered under his breath.

  But she continued softly. “I’ve learned that some carry memory. Others… something else.”

  The councillors looked at her, but they did not respond. Rather, they looked at her as someone disturbing the direction of their plans, rather than someone who could aid it. As a woman in Eryssan, she’d experienced this dismissal more than once. The discussion had already moved on.

  Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  She gritted her teeth, heat rising in her cheeks, anger tangled with embarrassment. How she’d been brought in for knowledge, yet treated like a variable.

  The council session dragged well into the morning. When Lyra finally stepped back into the rain-washed streets, the sky had darkened again. Thin threads of rain drifted between the rooftops, silver against the stone.

  Julen walked beside her, his stride brisk.

  “You shouldn’t speak like that in front of them,” he said quietly.

  Lyra sighed. “I’m only speaking the truth. Perhaps if they treated my observations as valid rather than a hindrance, we might be able to figure this out before another tremor takes us all out.”

  “Your observations _are _valid, Lyra. Must you always act in defiance of everything, though? They do not like that.”

  “It’s not defiance. I know. I’ve seen the stones, I’ve been told what they are by someone who actually knows.”

  Julen scoffed. “Him. Of course he has you falling for his stories. Just remember that’s what a lot of them are - stories.”

  “And you should remember to have your own mind and not just bleat out whatever your father tells you.”

  He looked at her, shocked. As if she’d hit a nerve… or the truth. After, he went quiet as they made their way to their table.

  The Archive smelled of damp parchment and candle wax. As they made their way to the study hall, Lyra was expecting Caelith to be there, but he was not.

  Lyra settled at the long table where the fragments had been arranged for study. Their containment dishes glowed faintly in the dim light, each shard pulsing with its own uneven rhythm.

  Julen began organising their notes with rigid precision.

  But Caelith’s chair remained empty.

  Lyra tried not to notice.

  The first session passed in near silence.

  When Caelith finally arrived, he moved with the same quiet composure as always, his chains glinting softly against the dim light. He inclined his head in some kind of acknowledgement, but he did not speak to her or Julen.

  Still, Lyra found herself watching him more closely than before.

  The way he examined the shards. The careful restraint in his movements. The slight tilt of his head when a fragment pulsed unexpectedly.

  Details she had never noticed before now seemed impossible to ignore.

  *****

  Over the next week, she noticed a pattern.

  Sometimes he would leave midway through their sessions, offering only a brief nod before disappearing down the corridor.

  Once, when he returned, his cloak smelled faintly of cold air and stone dust, like the scent of cliffs and wind.

  Other times, he simply never arrived.

  “Again?” Julen muttered one evening, glancing at the empty chair beside her. “He’s been gone half the afternoon.”

  Lyra traced the edge of one containment dish with her finger.

  “I can feel it when he’s gone,” she said quietly. “They’re different, aren’t they?”

  Julen frowned.

  “Feel what? What’s different?”

  “The fragments.”

  She hesitated, unsure how to explain something that sounded absurd even to her own ears.

  “They change.”

  Julen’s brow furrowed.

  “How?”

  Lyra looked down at the shards.

  “They’re quieter when he’s here. It’s like he calms them down, you know? It’s like they recognise him.”

  Julen leaned back in his chair, studying her with growing frustration.

  “I’m surprised you noticed that given he’s mostly never here. But yes, maybe you’re right.”

  “Do you think he’s connected to it all?” she asked, mostly to herself.

  Julen smiled at her, incredulous. “Seriously, Lyra? Of course he is. The Umbralyn are borne of the Fracture. How could they not be? The real question is _how _is he connected to it all? Because I for one have a very clear answer.”

  Lyra didn’t answer, prompting Julen to sigh. “Stay out of it, Lyra. We can only do what we were brought here to do. It’s much bigger than us, there’s things we won’t know. And it’s important we stay safe, and we don’t go looking for it.”

  But that night, long after Julen had left, she remained alone in the Archive. The candle beside her flickered low as the storm returned outside.

  Across the table, the fragments pulsed in restless rhythm.

  Caelith’s chair sat empty, again.

  That moment in his chamber had felt… different. As though, for once, he had seen her. But had she instead dreamt all of it? Did he despise her, despite the strange pull she felt towards him?

  Or, was he looking further at secret memory stones. He’d told her that there were some things he didn’t trust humans with, those stones being one of them. Perhaps he’d found something pivotal, and he wasn’t letting on.

  Lyra stared the space he left it longer than she should have. And then something dangerous in her thoughts took root. If he wasn’t telling anyone what he was doing or where he was going, she was going to find out.