The air on the floating island didn't taste like London. It tasted of ozone and ancient stone, a crisp, cold purity that felt like the beginning of time.
Lyra stood frozen, her eyes locked on the woman standing on the deck of the Aegis-1. The woman the "Older Lyra"leapt from the ship, her Sun-Glass armor clicking as she landed with the grace of a predator. Her face was identical to Lyra's, but her eyes held the exhaustion of a thousand lost wars.
"Don't stare too long," the Older Lyra said, her voice a raspier, harder version of Lyra's own. "It causes 'Chronal Nausea'. Your brain is currently trying to reconcile two versions of the same soul-signature, and it's going to give you a massive headache if you don't focus."
"Who sent you?" Lucian stepped forward, his six wings of Eclipse-Fire shielding Lyra. He didn't trust the newcomer. To him, anything that looked like Lyra but didn't smell like his Lyra was a threat.
