The locket burned against Lyra's throat.
She clawed at it, but the chain fused to her skin, tendrils of blackened silver burrowing into her collarbone. Kael gripped the pendant, his withered hand trembling. "Hold still!"
"It's feeding," she hissed. The twin portraits inside—her face and Lira's—peeled like rotting fruit. Flesh sloughed from the miniature paintings, revealing bone beneath.
The hunters closed in, blades glinting.
"Priorities!" Kael snapped, dragging her behind the shattered altar. Arrows thudded into the stone, their tips oozing the same black sap as the forest.
Lyra pried the locket open wider. A lock of hair lay coiled inside—jet-black streaked with Lira's gold. "He kept her," she whispered. "Even after he… unmade her."
Kael risked a glance over the altar. Six hunters, maybe more. Gideon's symbol glowed on their breastplates: an hourglass choked with ash. "Can you fight?"
The locket's chain tightened. Lyra gagged. "Not… while this thing…"
A blade whined through the air. Kael ducked, shoving Lyra sideways. The weapon embedded itself in the altar, hilt vibrating.
Gideon's voice slithered from the locket:
"Hello, Lyra."
She screamed.