Shay opened her eyes, blinking hard. Sensations in her body slowly came to her, each one a reminder of where she was: her legs were cramped, her fingers raw, and her stomach was painfully empty. As her vision cleared from her panic-induced sleep, she realized her surroundings were brighter than before. She turned her head about and realized that she was no longer lying in a dismal, black coffin. Instead, she was lying in a field of grey grass, strands tickling the skin of her arms.

She tried to sit up, fearful that her skull might still crack against stone. But she was able to prop herself up on her hands, and she gazed around her with growing concern. Something about this felt very familiar, eerily so. She drew her fingers in front of her, and she could clearly see the bloody scrapes and scuffs from her attempts to free herself from the coffin.

"Where am I?" she asked aloud, half-hoping she wouldn't receive an answer.

"You are in a more…hospitable place," a deep voice answered. "In spirit, at least. But judging by your appearance, this isn't the first time you've experienced as such."

"No," Shay admitted. "I didn't like it then, either." She stood, knees wobbling as she steadied herself. "Who are you?"

"Over here, child."

She turned to see a man sitting at a round tea table, dressed in dark robes trimmed with green. He appeared to be in his late thirties, well-built, with streaks of grey about his temples and through his black beard. His eyes were viridian, almost emerald, and a smile revealed a pair of premature crow's feet. The smile was sad, though, and he used a hand to gesture to an empty seat.

"Come," he told her gently. "We have much to talk about."

Shay didn't move, her eyes wide and her shoulders tense.

"Ah," the man said, nodding slowly as he lowered his arm. "I can understand, you don't trust me. I assume that means you already know who I am?"

"You're Haderon," Shay answered, her voice trembling. "Master of Necromancy. Worshipper of death."

Haderon frowned. "I take offense to that last one. I can't imagine the other falsehoods written about me. But I suppose it's my fault for being so secretive." He sighed, almost moping. "Do come sit, my dear. I mean you no harm."

"Then release me," Shay begged. "I have no desire to learn your black sorcery, let me go!"

"I'm afraid that's the problem, child," Haderon looked genuinely sympathetic. "I can't let you go. The spell I cast over my coffin has been destroyed. Therefore, I have no authority to set you free."

Shay's blood ran cold. "So, you mean…I'm trapped here…forever?"

"Not necessarily," Haderon assured her. "You see, there is a new, albeit similar, spell in place, with new terms. You know how terms work, correct?"

"Of course, I know how terms work," Shay hissed. "I also understand that none of that helps me, since I don't know the terms I need to fulfil!" Panic shortened her breath, and she could sense her freezing confines begin to suffocate her again. "Am I really going to die in this place?"

"Heaven's sake, girl, you're not dead." Haderon stood from his seat at the table and walked across the grass to meet her. He took her by the elbow and gingerly coaxed her towards the table, where she obediently sat. He reassumed his seat across from her and produced a handkerchief. Shay took it and blew her nose, snot soaking the corners. "Let's not give in to hysteria just yet," he told her. "If I am to be of any service to you, I must know what happened to bring you here."

Shay pulled the handkerchief away and stared at the wet cotton. "Sorry."

"Quite alright," Haderon dismissed. "The woman who was here before you, she was your mother, yes?"

Shay took a deep, shuddering breath and let it out slowly, trying to calm down enough to speak. "You never spoke to her?"

Haderon weighed his head back and forth. "Less of a conversation and more of a battle of wills. I couldn't exactly pass on without leaving some measures to protect the knowledge I was leaving behind. Magic is fickle that way. But the woman was determined to leave this place with her newfound knowledge in hand. She had been trying to escape ever since. Whenever she spoke to me, it was only to demand I release her. Brings us back to the whole 'terms' discussion we were having. But no, I can't say we ever carried what you might call a civil conversation."

Shay sighed, folding her arms around her empty stomach. "She wanted to use necromancy to bring my father back from the dead."

"Hm," Haderon frowned. "Romantic, if a bit extreme. Also impossible. I'm no holy man, but I can at least tell you that necromancy does not 'bring back the dead'. It merely reanimates formerly living tissue to mimic what it used to do while alive. There's no life there, just magic imitating it." He sighed. "I assume you disapproved of her efforts?"

"I was young, I was in denial, of course I did!"

"I see." Haderon stroked his beard, fingers combing. "Yet you found her and set her free."

Shay had no more tears to cry, her eyes swollen and puffy. "She's my mother," she wheezed.

"Oh, I understand that," Haderon nodded. "I have a mother too, you know. But you seem to be a bright young lady. You had to have known the consequences."

"I thought I could take her magic away," Shay explained, smearing her palm over her forehead. "My father's sword has powerful anti-magic runes. I thought I could use them to purge her…but when I tried…" She squeezed her eyes shut, then opened them again, staring at Haderon's patient face. Her irises, once orange and red, were now a watery blue, empty of all but pain and regret. "I used to know fire. It came to me without a second thought, I knew the incantations by heart. Now, I can't even make a spark. Without magic, my mother wouldn't be able to harm anyone. But it was hubris for me to even try." Her chest hitched. "My uncle was with me. Now I'm sure he's dead, and it's my fault." She shook her head helplessly. "I should have turned Varian away."

Haderon drummed his fingers on the table, digesting her words. "Explain."

"None of this would have happened if my childhood friend hadn't shown up at my door months ago. But I hadn't seen him in years, and I'd hoped…he'd grown up so much, I…"

"Oh, I see," Haderon rolled his eyes. "Love made you blind."

"It wasn't…just that, alright?" Shay's face went red. "Without him, I would never have found this place or been able to enter. He thought my mother could help him, he'd made a mistake –"

"Hold a moment," Haderon stopped her. "You said the young man opened this place for you. How?"

"He has a connection to the Moonstone," Shay answered. "His father is a conscript."

"Fascinating," Haderon's face was almost childlike with curiosity. "I wasn't aware the connection could be hereditary. Personally, I exposed a vial of my blood to the Moonstone, and that gave me all I needed for my purposes. Bit less risk that way, as well."

Shay looked embarrassed. "I agree." Wielding the Moonstone herself, even half of it, for more than a month had nearly killed her, and she had no wish to wield such magic ever again. She didn't know how Varian was able to do it, but the thought of him served only as a painful reminder of her predicament.

Haderon, who was going on about fighting some battle from centuries ago, was waving his hand, scoffing at himself. "But listen to me prattle on. At any rate, you managed to free your mother, which I'm sure she was grateful for, and now she's no doubt amassing an undead army to wage war on Corona."

Haderon's statement only made Shay feel more stupid. How could she have been so foolish, believing her mother would still be the same after seven years in this place? Or had her mother been this way all along, and she had just been too blind to see? She supposed it didn't matter, now that she was trapped here herself. And she didn't dare hold out for Varian to come and save her – her mother had taken his memory once, and like a hypocrite, she had done the same. He wouldn't remember a thing about any of it, believing he had been directed to the Moonstone in whatever way his mind could conjure. "I thought I was doing the right thing," she lamented out loud.

"Well, if it's any consolation," Haderon said, "whatever you've done was out of love. I kept myself alive for centuries out of fear some miscreant would steal my work and do something like this. The only person you can trust is yourself, I believed. Your intentions were pure, if foolhardy. Mine were simply the latter."

Shay managed enough emotion to shoot him a glower. "That's not helping," she grumbled.

"Then perhaps this will." Haderon propped his chin in his palm. "The solution to your predicament is rather simple. You simply need to find out the terms of the spell your mother used and find the means to meet them."

"And how am I to do that?" Shay almost wailed. "I told you, my magic is gone!"

"You don't need magic to break a spell," Haderon scoffed. "Come now, think. You would know your mother better than anyone. What sort of terms might she use to predicate a spell like this?"

Shay calmed down enough to consider the question, wracking her foggy mind for an answer. "Something she would think impossible of me," she concluded slowly. "Something she'd think I couldn't do."

"Or something you wouldn't do," Haderon supplied. "Many classic spells are predicated on things like honesty or integrity. A liar can only escape an enchanted prison if he tells the truth, that sort of thing. If I had to guess, your mother may have based your imprisonment on the fact that you no longer possess any magic."

Shay chewed on that for a moment, fingers twitching in her lap. "So then…if I gained magic somehow, that might be the key to freeing myself?"

"Possibly." Haderon picked at a fleck of grass on his sleeve. "It certainly wouldn't hurt if you regained some magic, now would it?"

"But I don't know how," Shay insisted.

Haderon stroked at a groove in the table's surface. "How did you obtain magic in the first place?"

"I was born with it, from my mother."

"Well, now!" Haderon's face brightened. "That's some good news, there. If you were born with magic, it's in your blood. You're still alive, which means it's only a matter of time before your magic returns. The only problem with that is that it takes time…and I'm afraid with the spell itself structurally being the same, time is not really something you have anymore."

Shay felt what little hope she'd regained evaporate. "What do you mean?"

"How do you think your mother survived for seven years trapped here?" Haderon explained. "Seven years outside, perhaps, but it's quite different on the inside."

Shay shook her head. "How on earth were you able to suspend time?"

Haderon smiled almost wickedly. "I had more than one vial of blood that I exposed to more than one Celestial object. How do you think I survived for centuries?"

"You used the Sundrop." Shay could have kicked herself. "Just like the witch, Gothel."

"Gothel, Gothel…that name sounds familiar." Haderon hummed to himself. "Oh, well. Regardless, it seems your answer is either to procure magic to free yourself, or to use some form of anti-magic to dissolve the spell, as you did before." He took on a look of pity, staring at her. "And it seems both methods are outside your reach."

Shay felt hopelessness threaten her heart once more, and she mashed her palms into her eyes, searching for any magic left within her. There must be some way, she thought desperately. Some means by which she could…she paused, thinking back. Wait. "Wait," she said, rising from her seat. "There is something I could try. An incantation."

Haderon raised a black eyebrow. "An incantation would do you no good if you have no magic."

"Not true," Shay shook her finger, staring beyond the endless field of grass they were in. "Incantations can work if there are two parties involved."

Haderon looked confused. "You mean to invoke something? Such as?"

Shay looked at him, her blue eyes sparking with life. "When my mother was a child, she invoked the Seven Sisters to grant her knowledge. It's how she was able to survive. She knew how to craft the things she needed, to cast the spells she needed, because Pleiades told her."

"The Seven Sisters? You must be joking," Haderon countered. "They were a group of blood mages who took on the namesake of the constellation, nothing more. There's no possible way an incantation can deliver their knowledge."

"That's where you're wrong," Shay told him, growing brighter with each word. "I've used it, too, I've accessed that knowledge before. I don't really understand it or where it comes from, but I know that it's…it's something that's been a part of me since I was born. It's protected me." She clenched her teeth, hands balled into fists. "I hadn't used the full incantation before. I'm not sure what will happen if I do now. If you had asked me the day my mother left, I wouldn't dare try invoking the Seven Sisters. I was afraid, I always have been…or maybe it was because I felt I wasn't good enough. But I don't want power for myself. I want it to protect the ones I love, and I'm done being too scared and timid to ask for it. No…no I'll do one better and demand it, I am done hiding!"

Haderon blinked, then uncrossed his legs and planted his hands on his knees. "What is your name?"

She drew herself to her full height. "I…I am Shay Cainsdaughter of Old Corona."

"Well then, Shay of Old Corona," he said with a grin. "Show me how brave you really are."

Varian and Martin entered the judgment hall with trepidation, fully aware that they were expected as they passed through the wide-open doors. Both young men were fatigued and worn down from their labor at the forge, sweat wicking away from the back of their necks as the pressure from the outside hall created a gentle breeze through the entrance. Varian's bow had been retrieved, a quiver of chemically loaded arrows belted at his side, and Martin had sharpened his blade enough to slice paper.

Lyra took silent note of their equipment and greeted them warmly, beckoning with her hand. "Come, children. Sit. We have much to discuss."

Varian noticed Cassandra sitting next to Rapunzel and felt two emotions in rapid succession: surprise at her presence, and anger upon remembering what she'd done. The flame he'd once carried for her was colder than iron, and he found himself glowering bitterly in her direction.

"Patience, Varian," Lyra reassured him. "Her time will come."

Reluctantly, Varian threw Lyra a look of concern. "What do you mean by that?"

"Sit," Lyra insisted quietly. "The sooner we begin, the better. But first," she told him before he joined Martin on one of the benches, "if you would please hand over your lovely new trinket. I'd love to see your handiwork."

Varian looked to his father, who gave him a warning look. Interpreting it as encouragement to do as he was told, Varian clenched his teeth and removed his satchel from his shoulder, handing it out for Lyra to take. The Crimson Caster wound the strap around her hand and took the satchel in her arms. Reaching in, she produced a piece of metalwork unlike anything anyone in the room had ever seen. "Curious," she mused, turning the item over in her hands. It was hourglass-shaped, the welding crude in Varian's haste, with metal plates separating a delicate glass sphere in the center. Runes had been etched hastily into the sides, deep cuts hammered by a set of files, most of which had broken after a few pounds from Varian's frantic work.

Lyra held the circle of runes from each side of the hourglass for her 'jury' to see. "Do you know what these are?" she asked. "They're the Circle of Undoing, a very ancient set of runes from long before Corona was founded. Curious that you would know of it, Varian."

"The blueprint's in my satchel," Varian gestured coolly. "It's Demanitus' design."

"Fascinating," Lyra studied the metal hourglass some more before handing it back to Varian. "I'm sure you'll be showing me how it works very soon."

Varian took it back and sat down next to Martin without a word, eyes wide and unblinking.

"Now then," Lyra assumed her place near the throne, standing at King Frederick's side. "Let us begin to examine the crime for which our noble King Frederick is found accused of."

"And what crime is that?" Rapunzel asked warily.

Lyra's eyes settled on hers, piercing like knives through the green. "Genocide."

"That's outrageous," Martin hissed.

Yaeger grabbed him from behind and jerked his ear around. "This woman could kill us all, Edrick. Keep your mouth shut."

Quirin's pulse could be seen in his neck, beating hard and fast under the skin. "Explain, Lyra."

"For those of you who don't know," Lyra explained, folding her hands in front of her, "nearly twenty years ago, the king's wife was ill in her pregnancy. They needed a cure to save her, and they sought the fabled Sundrop for the answer. I was called upon to find it for them, and in my foolishness, I obeyed. I wanted access to their libraries, their books, to learn more about my ancestral home." She extended a finger southwest, her expression softening. "There is a place in the Isles, a land teeming with magic and beauty. A place that once bestowed power to many mages. A place where my kin and I would be safe.

"But then," her finger slowly gravitated towards Cassandra, "The Ashen Hand's mother sought to take the Sundrop for herself, stealing a child in the night and robbing this kingdom of an heir. It was a predicament, no one here will deny it." She turned at last to King Frederick. "Tell me, my king. How did that make you feel?"

The king's lips were tight, his eyes staring ahead.

Lyra pursed her own lips and produced a long, narrow needle of glass in her outstretched hand. She aimed offhandedly in Rapunzel's direction, the needle extending towards the princess' throat. "How," she repeated, "did that make you feel?"

"Angry," Frederick answered through clenched teeth.

"Angry," Lyra dismissed the threat, and Rapunzel's heartrate steadied from a whir to a thrum. "And what did you do about that anger?"

"There was only one person who could have taken my child," Frederick continued, his eyes finally shifting to glare at her. "And that was you."

"Ah," Lyra nodded slowly. "And what made you think that?"

"Because only a witch could have stolen my child," Frederick spat.

"Why?" Lyra asked. "Because I have magic?"

"Yes!" The king's expression was livid. "Witches crave magic, they need it like water. The only reason why you could possibly have wanted to help us was to take the Sundrop for yourself, with my daughter as the vessel!"

Lyra was still nodding, her silvery-red hair shifting down her back. "How easy is it to break into this castle?" she suddenly asked, training her gaze on Eugene.

It took a moment for Eugene to realize he was the one being asked. He cleared his throat in a panic, patting his palms together. "Uh, well, I, uh…I mean, if you have a helping hand or two…" He raised his hand to block his vision from Yaeger's vehement stare. "Easy enough, I guess. But I never stole a baby, I swear!"

"Interesting," Lyra said with genuine awe. "I'm no stranger to sleight-of-hand, myself, and I wouldn't have dreamed of trying to break into this place. Tell me, did you ever employ the use of magic in your capitol acts of burglary?"

"Not that I know of," Eugene answered slowly.

"It doesn't matter!" Frederick thundered. "I know what this is about, Lyra, and I will not have you poison my people against me!"

"Poison?" Lyra feigned being hurt. "Well, now, if your people do have…less than favorable opinions of you, is that really my fault? Because as your own daughter can testify, I did not, in fact, take her from you."

"It's true," Rapunzel admitted, her eyes wide. "Dad…you issued the mage hunt because you hate magic?"

Frederick's eyes burned, almost wild. He said nothing to her, and she was frightened by the silence.

Lyra's face was alight with anticipation, almost hungry. "Is that so? Well, then. It all makes sense, now, doesn't it?" She began walking down the carpet, towards the center of the hall. "Let me ask if any of you recognize these names." She turned to look at them, magic crackling in the air around her fingertips. "Hirokawa Suzuki. Nathaniel Claymore. Reinhardt Hammil. Owen Garretson. Lima Velazquez."

After a full minute, Quirin spoke. "I remember Owen. He was a good man. Good apothecary. Helped tend to my wife when she took ill. Then, one day, he was gone."

Varian shot a glanced at his father, staring. "No," he breathed.

Quirin looked up at the king, swallowing hard. "His house was empty. He wasn't there, no trace of him could be found. We searched for days. It was like he'd never existed."

"No," Varian moaned, his hands at his scalp as the streak in his hair stirred.

"Two days later," Quirin said, his voice shaking, "my wife was dead."

"Because he killed her!" Frederick shouted. "He used his witchcraft to keep your village dependent on his snake oil!"

Varian was out of his seat, his hair igniting in a burst of blue. "You killed MY MOM!" he roared, and black spikes erupted from the ground as the Moonstone circling Lyra suddenly sputtered and shook, straining to break free from her control.

"Son, don't!" Quirin was on his feet, reaching for Varian. He dragged his boy into a tight embrace, clasping his head against his breastplate. "Don't do this," he begged into Varian's hair. "I'm here, it's alright."

Lyra actually gasped, startled at the display. "How are you doing this?" she breathed.

"Incredible," Cassandra mouthed, her arm instinctively thrown in front of Rapunzel.

"Suzuki," Eugene spoke up after a few moments of stunned silence, looking uncomfortable as Varian's pain continued. "I knew her when I was a kid. Witchy old lady, but she used to help me sneak around the market…so I wouldn't starve. She always knew who was looking, when backs would turn. Then one morning, I came, and her usual spot was empty."

"There's no proof," Yaeger defended the king. "These people could just as easily as left of their own volition. You can't pin their disappearances on the king if you have no evidence."

Lyra looked at him, eyes wide and simmering with triumph. "Come," she extended her hand towards the open doors, and Rapunzel gasped out loud as she felt the same foreboding as before, only twice as strong and chilling to the bone. "My witnesses."

They all looked to see as five long shadows stretched down the carpet, cast from the individuals entering the hall. Shuffling and rattling, bones exposed through ratted, torn clothing, decayed flesh dusty from exposure to the late winter air.

"By all that's holy," Quirin tensed, and Varian ducked his head under his arm to see. "Lyra, what have you done?"

"Ladies of the court," Lyra approached the undead, gesturing to each as they came to stand before the throne. "Gentlemen, may I introduce you to a mere handful of the scores of magic users that were unceremoniously ripped from their homes, their streets, their very lives, to serve this man's vendetta."

"Dad," Varian winced, his tear-streaked eyes swollen. "Is it really…?"

Quirin jutted his chin towards the undead on the second-left. "Owen," he answered, his chest tight. "He's still wearing his apothecary's badge."

"You dare bring your filthy undead magic into my judgment hall?!" King Frederick roared.

"I do," Lyra shot him a sharp, wicked smile. "And I know where more of them are. More of the innocent people you took away, never to be seen again!"

Frederick rose to his feet, his eyes almost manic. "I protected my people from the likes of you," he seethed. "I'd do the same again if it meant fewer children would be stolen in the night, fewer mothers left crying over empty cribs!"

"Cracking down on petty crimes wasn't enough," Eugene observed, expressionless. "You actually killed these people, just because they had magic?"

Frederick launched a shaking finger at Eugene. "You don't get to judge me, Fitzherbert. None of you do! None of you have the strength to bear the weight of a crown!"

"I do," Rapunzel spoke, her face frozen in shock. "And I would never have done this."

"Someday," Frederick clenched his fists, "you may have to."

"No," Rapunzel asserted, her expression hardening. "No, I will never do something like this."

"Rapunzel –"

"NEVER!" She yelled, her hair sparking in flecks of sunny gold. "I will prove that you never, EVER have to do ANYTHING like this. If that's what it takes to be queen…then this land shouldn't have one."

"Heaven's sake, Frederick," Quirin said breathlessly, like he'd just had the wind punched out of his lungs. "Where was your council? Why didn't you tell me?"

"It was my duty," Frederick thrust his finger towards his feet. "My responsibility, my standing."

Quirin shook his head. "No one should ever rule alone."

Rapunzel suddenly looked nauseous, and Cassandra kept a firm grip on her sleeve. "Does Mom know?"

The mention of his wife made Frederick's frantic composure crack, and panic started to show through his fury. "She…she was in mourning, she was hurt. She knew I was searching –"

Even Cassandra was appalled. "The queen didn't know you were murdering innocent people?"

"She can't have known," Quirin looked deathly pale. "Not to this extent, or she would have stopped you. She would have known this was wrong."

"For crying out loud, ANY sane person would know this was wrong!" Eugene jerked about to glare at Yaeger. "Did you know about this?!"

"We…the reports weren't…" For the first time, Yaeger's stoic professionalism was gone, and the vulnerability he showed made him look nearly ten years younger. "The Captain himself wrote those reports. The Captain doesn't lie. This…"

"Tell me, lieutenant," Lyra demanded, her red hair picking up as an eerie breeze began to blow through the hall. "According to Coronan law, what sentence is to be passed upon a murderer?"

Yaeger's answer was heavy, his eyes empty. "According to the statues put in place by King Herz Der Soone, after the Sapporian War…the penalty for murder is death."

"What? No!" Rapunzel cried, snapping out of the horror. "No, you can't, he's –"

"A murderer!" Lyra cut her off. "A man who drove men to hunt down magic and execute it, to wipe it clean off the face of his precious kingdom! By your own law, he is guilty!" She lowered her shoulders, her eyelids, staring at King Frederick as he sank lifelessly back into his throne. "For years, I blamed my husband's brother for his death, but the man was acting on your orders. For years, my daughter was forced to hide because of you. So I ask you now, King Frederick of Corona. By your will to hunt down magic –" She stabbed her finger at Rapunzel, at the shimmering gold strands of hair that floated about the princess' devastated eyes, "– does your own child not fall in line to the executioner's block? Surely your own flesh and blood will be next!"

King Frederick slowly raised his hands to his head and screamed. The sound made everyone jump, startled by the unholy noise. By the time it stopped, Lyra was before him, her hand outstretched to swipe the crown from his head.

"You have no right to this," she tossed the gold circle aside, the metal pinging and denting across the marble. Raising her hand, her fingers burst into plumes of red flame, and she slowly started reaching for the king's bare head. "Past due, Frederick."

"Lyra," Quirin was reaching over his shoulder for Spellbane's worn hilt. "Stand down. You've made your point, and I assure you, there will be measures taken for this. You've done your part, and now a council must be called to review your evidence and deliver a verdict."

"You stall, Quirin!" Lyra shrieked, flames arcing and dancing through the air above them. "You would give him a chance to walk free!"

"He's giving you a chance to walk free!" Martin exclaimed. "If you kill the king of Corona, your own life is forfeit!"

"If you kill anyone, you'll regret it," Eugene added.

Yaeger's crossbow was aimed square between Lyra's ears. "I will not stand idly by while you threaten my king, regardless of what he's done!"

Cassandra stood. "You said you wanted my testimony. I know what it's like to feel cheated and unheard. I'm not saying the king is innocent, but my mother is one we should be blaming for all of this!"

"Blame shouldn't matter!" Rapunzel cried. "No one here has to die!"

"Someone," Lyra growled, "must pay!"

Varian moved before his father could stop him. He vaulted over the bench, landing on the marble with his hands outstretched. "Not like this!" he told Lyra. "Please, Lyra, this won't bring your husband back!"

That made Lyra's breath freeze, and Varian realized he had hit the nail on the head.

"This whole time," he continued, walking slowly towards her. His bow was in his hand, arrow pinched between his fingers: ready to fight, but keeping his weapon down as he approached. "You've been trying to find a way to bring Cain back. You were trapped in a necromancer's tomb for seven years for it. I can't imagine how hard that must have been."

Lyra's hand, still flaming and poised over Frederick's head, wavered just an inch.

Hopeful, Varian inched closer, almost within reach of the Moonstone. He could feel it calling to him, like an ache in his bones. He begged that the amber solution wouldn't be necessary. "I won't try to pretend like I know what you're feeling right now," he spoke softly. "But you're not trapped, anymore. You're not alone, here, Lyra, we can help you."

"If you want to help me," Lyra spoke through gritted teeth. "Then bring my husband back."

Varian slowly shook his head, wincing with pity. "I'm not God, Lyra. And wherever your husband is now…I know he wouldn't want you to go through with this."

For a moment, Lyra seemed to be listening. "Perhaps. But I still do."

Then she lunged for the king's head.