LYRA'S POV
The fragments were old.
Not just old—ancient. Eight centuries compressed into crystalline forms that pulsed with resistance so intense I could feel it across all forty-one dimensional states before we even began the restoration attempt. The consciousness within had been shattered during the early intervention periods, when Council protocols were still being refined and elimination methods were brutally experimental.
These fragments remembered being hunted. Remembered watching blessed populations disappear into Council facilities that claimed protective custody while implementing systematic murder. Remembered the terror of being fragmented deliberately rather than through natural deterioration that intervention propaganda had claimed was inevitable.
They didn't want to be restored. Didn't trust any process involving divine authority after centuries of experiencing what "divine backing" had actually meant for marked wolves under territorial governance frameworks.
