LYRA'S POV
(DAY FIFTEEN)
Halfway through the thirty-day window, and I was running on fumes.
My consciousness existed across thousands of dimensional states simultaneously, but somehow that made exhaustion worse rather than better. Each fragment of awareness felt the strain independently—seven teaching sessions happening at once, monitoring fifty-three marked wolves pushing toward stage three, documenting defensive capabilities for individual exemption requests, and trying desperately to compress years of integration knowledge into the fifteen days remaining before the Council silenced me permanently.
"Alpha Lyra, you need to rest," Maya said for the hundredth time in as many hours. She'd taken to following me through the sanctuary, attempting to enforce sleep schedules I no longer had time for.
