"The actor must be a selfless instrument, an empty vessel, for the character to fill."
***
"I know you won't fail," I said.
Of all the uncertainties I faced, Lyra's dedication had never been one of them. She was the one constant in an ocean of chaos.
She moved toward the window, preparing to slip back into the darkness. Then paused with one hand on the frame.
"Master? The scar. Does it still hurt?"
"Not anymore," I lied. Maintained steady eye contact.
The truth was that it ached with a constant, dull throb that radiated through my chest with every heartbeat. A persistent reminder of the price I'd paid. I suspected it would hurt for days. Maybe weeks.
But showing weakness would make her worry. And a worried Lyra was a dangerous Lyra.
"It's just another part of me now. Another tool in the arsenal. Nothing to worry about."
