"Lyra? Lyra, what's going on? Speak to me!" Nolan's voice trembled as he looked down at her limp form. She wasn't responding. Her breathing was shallow, and her body felt far too light in his arms.
Panic surged through him. He scooped her up, clutching her tightly against his chest, and bolted. His speed was unmatched—less than three seconds later, he burst through the streets and arrived at his mansion. The sky was pale, the first hints of dawn spreading across the horizon.
Celia and Linda were still outside, standing guard over the man they had tied up. When they saw Nolan, they waved in relief. "Master!" Both of them ran forward. Celia opened the large entrance immediately, but as her eyes fell on Lyra, she froze. "Master… did you summon her? Is she just sleeping?"
"No," Nolan snapped, his voice sharper than intended. He shifted Lyra in his arms, his face etched with worry. "Something's wrong."
Linda's expression turned pale. "What happened, Master? Is she going to be okay?"
