Lyra kept contemplating Ash's words that night. She wasn't much different than her. Why was it that Lyra happened to be born into a family that could teach her that forbidden knowledge, while Ash tried so hard and will forever be in the dark? It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair at all. It caused a whirlwind of emotions to stir inside of Lyra, ones she didn't know she could feel. Was it pity? Empathy? Was she just hungry? She didn't know.
In the morning once Lyra had woken up, she got out of the cramped tent. In the clearing sat Ash and Kyro, huddled up next to each other, in a deep sleep. For a girl that talked much about safety and insisted on keeping lookout, she sure seemed to have her guard down. This display made Lyra crack another smile. The girl, who had seemed scary at first, seemed really sweet and innocent, asleep next to the comically large dog. Despite her scars and rough exterior, she was just a little girl. Just like Lyra. She stepped forward subconsciously, breaking a twig under her boots, which made Ash wake up wide-eyed.
Ash shot upright, her hand instinctively reaching for the small knife tucked into her belt. Kyro let out a low growl but didn't move.
"It's just me," Lyra said quickly, hands raised.
Ash's breath slowed, but her eyes didn't lose that flicker of fear.
"You step wrong out here, you don't wake up again."
"Sorry," Lyra muttered. "Didn't mean to…"
"K." Ash sighed and sat up, her back still leaning against Kyro.
Lyra kept looking at her. She felt the strong urge to talk to her. To help her. To understand her more. This felt really weird for Lyra. Growing up, she was used to seeing kids once, and never again. They couldn't make their presence known. So every time they would go to a park or public space, it was the last time they could go there too. Or else people might ask questions. Lyra and Ryan weren't legal citizens. Their parents hid them, so they could know the truth.
"Need anything?"
"Huh? No." Lyra glanced away, she had been staring at Ash, deep in her thoughts. Looking back, she saw Ash fiddling with a bottle cap. Staring at the print. Lyra stepped forward. "Actually… can I see that for a second?"
Lyra sat down beside the shorter girl, feeling the cold dirt underneath her, as Ash handed her the cap. Lyra squinted at the small print. She recognised it immediately.
"It's an old brand. Pre-Ban. This was a soda cap," she murmured. "They used to sell these in big machines. You'd put in a coin and get a cold drink in return. Sometimes, the caps had little codes or facts written inside."
Ash blinked. "How do you know that?"
"My parents taught me. What happened before…" She hesitated. "Before everything."
Ash turned the cap over in her palm. "I thought it was part of a code. I kept it for months. Carried it everywhere."
There was a silence. A heavy one. Lyra felt the weight of it press against her chest.
"You weren't wrong," Lyra said quietly. "It is part of a code. Just… a different kind. It's a memory someone thought was worth keeping."
Ash's voice came out small. "I wanted to believe it meant something."
"It does."
A beat. Then Ash spoke.
"Can you teach me?"
Lyra looked over at her. The tough exterior. The dirt-smudged cheeks. The hope trying not to hope.
"Yeah. I can try." She gave her that same bittersweet smile she'd been making more than she thought she would. "I'll try. It's called English."
Lyra spent the next hour trying to teach Ash the basics of the language and telling her stories from old books she'd read. Ash sat there and listened to her like a little kid, trying to absorb as much as she could, although it was hard for her to fathom that amount of new information after a lifetime of darkness and eternal battle against her own upbringing. In return, Ash told Lyra about how Kyro saved her from the shelter, after she spared his life. Lyra knew how much this probably meant to Ash. She fought to not show how touched she was. She knew it was a sign of weakness, but she finally felt at ease. A looming sense of anxiety creeped up at her, reminding her that last time she put her guard down, everything went wrong.
She decided to ignore that feeling. To let herself enjoy this moment of peace. Hoping she wouldn't regret it later.
. . .
Once everyone was up and ready, they shared two cans of baked beans Lyra had stored in Ryan's bag, before heading out to Rose Library. All of them brought their respective weapon for protection, Ash gifting Ryan an extra pocket knife she had. It took them another hour of walking before reaching the large building. It felt like seeing the skeleton of an extinct dinosaur, with its tall, bony, structure and dull, grey, chipped paint on the cracked walls. But despite that, it stood firm. It somehow stayed hidden from the regime, but standing in front of it, it made its presence known.
"There shouldn't be anyone, I usually see a group exploring elsewhere around this time, but be careful. Don't know why you're so eager to come here, but it's known to be some idiots 'territory', as they call it. A hideout." Ash told them. "I'm gonna keep watch. Call out if you need me."
She used two fingers to gesture for Kyro, and he began leading the rest of the group to the wide front door. It creaked loudly as they stepped inside, the familiar earthy smell of old books littered with hints of vanilla and coffee notes filled the area. Jude was the first to step forward, his worn high top canvas sneakers crushing some broken glass.
"This place is definitely dead," he smirked. "Let's go grave robbing."
Lyra didn't laugh. The quiet was too thick, like the walls were holding their breath. She had warned Ryan not to stray too far off, but he was already drifting away behind Jude, who went behind the reception desk, while Nyx was doing her own thing, and Kyro sat patiently by the door. She herself walked past them and began scouring the bookshelves, brushing her fingers on the thick layers of dust. She didn't recognise any titles, but she picked a light blue book up. She flipped through the pages, only to find that half of them had been eaten through by worms, her face scrunched up and she hurried to put the book back.
Lyra had just started flipping through another book—something about anatomy, maybe—when the low, guttural rumble echoed through the open room. She looked up. Kyro was at the doorway, every muscle in his body rigid, ears pinned flat.
Then Ash's voice. Sharp. Urgent.
"STAY INSIDE!"
The front door slammed back on its hinges. A flash of movements followed. Two—no, three—figures stormed in, shadows against the dusty light. Lyra's body acted before her mind could catch up—she threw herself behind a fallen shelf just as a bottle shattered where her head had been.
"What the hell—?!" Jude yelled, diving for cover near the reception desk.
Ryan screamed. Nyx swore.
The next few seconds dissolved into chaos. Lyra crawled along the side of the shelf, heart pounding in her ears. Dust and broken glass littered the floor. The air was thick with tension and grit and something metallic—blood? Everything was too loud to distinguish. The noise blurred into a single roar—shouts, footsteps, metal, breaking glass.
Nyx rushed forward, already swinging her crowbar. It connected with someone's leg. A sharp cry followed. She didn't stop—her movements were fast, furious, born from instinct and desperation. But Lyra saw the second attacker coming from the left.
"Nyx!" she shouted.
Too late.
The metal rod in the stranger's hand clipped Nyx across the side of her face—just above her cheekbone. She staggered backward with a choked sound, clutching her eye. Blood oozed through her fingers.
Jude dragged Ryan behind a toppled cabinet. "Stay down," he muttered, drawing a knife from his belt. "Just stay—"
"Lyra—" Ryan's voice cracked, but she couldn't answer. Couldn't take her eyes off the doorway.
Ash was still out there.
Through the haze of panic, she caught glimpses of the girl—fighting outside the building's entrance, Kyro snarling beside her. A man went to punch her, she tackled him. Another jumped, Ash darted, blade flashing, but she was outnumbered. Three against one.
No—four.
Lyra's stomach dropped.
"Jude!" she shouted. "We have to help her—"
"She told us to stay in—" But he broke off, glancing toward the door. His jaw clenched.
Another crash. One of the attackers had made it inside, gripping a metal pipe, eyes wild. Lyra grabbed a broken chair leg and swung. The wood cracked against his ribs. He grunted and stumbled, but didn't fall. She tightened her grip on her own pipe, ready to swing.
Kyro lunged from the side, his jaws locking onto the man's arm. A scream. Lyra ducked as his weapon flew past her head and hit the wall. She hit the back of his head while he was trying to fight off Kyro. He fell with a loud thud.
She ran out.
Sunlight seared her eyes. The fight outside was worse than she thought. Ash was on one knee, blood soaking the side of her shirt. One of the men had already fallen, unmoving. The others were circling her now, cautious but not retreating.
Kyro dashed past Lyra again, fangs bared, leaping toward the nearest one.
Ash turned her head slightly. Met Lyra's eyes.
And smiled. Just a little.
"Ash!" Lyra called. "Behind you—"
Too late again.
The blade sank into Ash in the ribs with a sickening, wet crunch. Her body jolted. Her eyes widened—but she didn't scream. She gasped, falling sideways. Kyro whirled, snarling like a demon, but the attackers scattered.
The one who stabbed her ran.
So did the others.
Gone.
Just like that.
Lyra dropped to her knees beside her.
Blood. So much blood.
"No, no—no, Ash, stay with me—"
Ash's hand twitched. She blinked slowly, her breath shallow. "I'm okay," she murmured, even though she wasn't. Her voice was thin. "Are the others safe?"
"Yes," Lyra said quickly. "They're inside. You're gonna be okay, we'll—we'll stop the bleeding—"
"Can't." Ash's eyes fluttered. "You know that."
Kyro whined, pressing himself close to her side. Ash raised a weak hand and rested it on his head.
"Keep… Kyro safe," she whispered.
"Ash, please," Lyra begged. Her hands trembled. "Don't—don't do this."
"I think… I remember. My… real name." Her voice was now barely a whisper, her words breaking apart, each word weaker than the last, coughing out blood. "Sh.. Sand..y."
Lyra froze. A name– a real name. Sandy coughed out some more blood, the wetness soaking Lyra's lap.
"Stay with me—come on, please." Lyra pleaded desperately, her hand flying to the wound, ripping off cloth from Sandy's cloak, pressing it against the bleeding. "I still have so much to teach you."
She didn't respond.
Her chest stopped moving.
For a second, Lyra's world went silent.
Then the grief hit like a fist to the lungs.
She didn't remember falling, but she was suddenly on the ground, gripping Sandy's hand, whispering her name over and over like it might rewind time. Like it might undo everything.
Kyro didn't move. He curled tighter beside her, eyes closed, like he understood.
Footsteps behind her. Nyx, staggering out the door, one hand still pressed against her eye. Blood stained the cloth she'd tied around it. Her other eye locked onto Sandy's body—and froze.
"No."
Lyra looked up.
Nyx dropped to her knees beside them. Her face was unreadable. For once, no swearing. No sharpness. Just silence. Tears falling from one eye, blood dripping out from under the cloth on the other side.
Jude appeared next, supporting Ryan. He looked down at Sandy and didn't say a word. Ryan buried his face in Lyra's shoulder, crying.
They stayed there like that for a long time.
Long after the attackers were gone.
Long after the sun dipped behind the clouds.
Long after the danger passed.
Sandy was gone.
And somehow–cruelly, as if in mockery–the world kept turning anyway.