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Chapter 91 - Chapter 91 - A Forgotten Promise and a Brewing Storm

Lyra floated in darkness, somewhere between consciousness and dreams. The beeping of hospital monitors faded into the background as memories took hold—memories she'd buried deep but never truly escaped.

She was four years old again, small and terrified, huddled in a cold basement with a dozen other children. It was three days after Colette had sold her to human traffickers for "being a burden." The irony was that here, among these strangers, she wasn't being hit or drowned or burned.

"Hey, you okay?" A boy's voice came from beside her. He was older—maybe ten—with dark eyes that held a strange wisdom for someone so young.

Little Lyra nodded hesitantly. She didn't speak much back then. Words only brought pain in the Moreau household.

"What's your name?" the boy asked.

She traced the number eleven in the dirt floor. The traffickers had stripped them of names, assigning numbers instead.

The boy's face softened with understanding. "Eleven, huh? That's a good number. Lucky."

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