Lyra froze when Aurora’s laughter burst out, her heart sinking. The sound felt like a punch to her gut, confirming her worst fear - that her emotions, her guilt, and her pain were being dismissed. Her chest tightened, and embarrassment rushed through her, her face flushing as she tried to hold back the sting of shame.
For a moment, anger flickered inside her, mixed with deep hurt. Kiki’s injury wasn’t absurd to her; it was proof that she had lost control of her magic, just as Lysander had warned her about. She felt that knot of self-doubt tighten, her insecurities bubbling to the surface. She wanted to snap, to say something cutting, but Aurora’s quick apology stopped her.
Even though Aurora explained herself, the hurt didn’t disappear. Lyra averted her gaze, trying to gather herself, but the sting of humiliation remained. She fought to swallow her emotions, blinking back tears that threatened to spill over.
“Of course you laughed,” she said softly, her voice shaky with a hint of bitterness. More so directed at herself than Aurora. “It’s just a lizard, right?” Her hands curled into fists at her sides. “But it’s not just Kiki; it’s everything. I messed up, and now it feels like everything’s falling apart.”
As Aurora continued speaking, trying to reassure her, Lyra took a shaky breath. The defensiveness she felt slowly began to crumble as she realised Aurora wasn’t trying to make light of the situation. Still, the relief Aurora expressed felt distant compared to the guilt weighing down on Lyra.
“I know it sounds ridiculous,” Lyra muttered, her voice quieter now. “But what if next time it’s not a lizard? What if I hurt someone for real?” Her words were laced with fear, showing how deeply the magic mishap had shaken her.
Though Aurora’s words helped ease some of her anxiety, the shame and fear still lingered beneath the surface, gnawing at her. She appreciated Aurora’s support, but it couldn’t completely erase the dread of what might come next.
Aurora’s suggestion about her brother caught Lyra off guard. She hadn’t expected anyone to be interested in looking deeper into what had happened to Lysander. The idea stirred something inside her - a mix of curiosity, fear, and uncertainty. Could they really figure it out? Did she even want to know?
Lyra’s chest tightened at Aurora’s words, the weight of her brother’s memory still heavy in her heart. She looked down for a moment, processing the reassurance offered to her. When Aurora mentioned that she wasn’t doomed to repeat what had happened, a flicker of hope ignited within her, but it quickly mingled with lingering doubt.
“Thank you,” Lyra whispered, her voice trembling slightly. She appreciated Aurora’s attempt to separate her from her brother’s legacy, even if she struggled to believe it herself. The mention of Lysander being loved and a good student stirred a mixture of pride and pain in her, and she managed a small, grateful smile in return.
As Aurora continued, Lyra felt a swell of emotion at the reminder that it was only a lizard. “I know… but it still feels awful. I can’t shake the guilt.” She wiped a tear from her cheek, grateful for Aurora’s understanding and willingness to help her fix the situation. The promise of support was comforting, but the nagging thought of how people would perceive her lingered.
“I really hope you’re right,” she replied, her voice firmer now. “I don’t want people to think I’m a danger. I just wanted to… to do something good.” The anxiety began to ebb slightly as Aurora’s conviction wrapped around her like a warm blanket.
Lyra took a deep breath, trying to steady herself. “And I’d really like your help with this. It means a lot that you’re willing to talk to Desdemona with me.” She glanced at Aurora, her eyes reflecting a mix of gratitude and vulnerability. “I just want to make things right.”
The hint of bitterness in Aurora’s voice did not go unnoticed. Lyra recognised that there was more to Aurora’s own story, perhaps a reflection of struggles she faced as well. In that moment, Lyra felt a connection - a sense that they could support each other through their challenges.
When Aurora offered her support in finding out what happened with her brother, Lyra glanced up at her, studying her face, searching for any hint of ulterior motive. But there was only kindness and subtle curiosity. Lyra hesitated, the thought of revisiting those old wounds terrifying her. Still, there was something comforting in knowing that Aurora was offering her support.
“Maybe… maybe someday,” Lyra murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. “It’s just… still really hard.” She swallowed the lump in her throat, her gaze falling back to the floor. “But thank you. For everything.”
Lyra took a breath, trying to steady her thoughts. “Actually,” she said, her voice a little stronger, “I’m organising a wake for Lysander at the school. It’s not just for me; it’s for everyone who knew him. His friends, classmates, anyone who wants to remember him.”
She paused, her gaze softening as she looked at Aurora. “I was thinking… maybe you’d want to come too? I know you didn’t know him, but after everything we’ve talked about, I think… I think it might help. For both of us. And it’s important to me that he’s remembered, even by people who didn’t know him personally.”
Lyra hesitated for a moment before continuing, her voice quieter. “I just don’t want to do this alone, you know? And I think having you there… would mean a lot.”