The bunker had felt lighter since my revelation about the vision. It was as if hope had returned, filling the stale underground air with a sense of possibility that had been missing for too long. Even Harrison seemed rejuvenated, his wheelchair gliding through the corridors with new purpose as he helped coordinate our allies.
But there was one person whose spirit hadn't been lifted—Lyra.
I'd noticed it immediately. While everyone else had drawn strength from the Goddess's promise of our victory, my sister had grown more withdrawn, her smiles not quite reaching her eyes. When we passed in the hallways, she'd offer a quick greeting before making excuses to hurry away.
I found her in the medical bay, organizing supplies with methodical precision. Her dark hair was pulled back in a messy bun, and shadows hung beneath her eyes. This wasn't just exhaustion—something was eating at her.
"Need some help?" I asked, leaning against the doorframe.
