Kaelen's words hung in the air between them. Lyra studied his face, searching for doubt. She found none.
"You really believe you can heal it," she said quietly.
"I have to." He touched the pendant. "The first Keeper taught me that destruction is only one option. There's always another way."
Lyra was silent for a moment. Then she set down her quill and pushed a stack of scrolls aside.
"Then we have work to do."
The next morning, Kaelen stood in the library, surrounded by Lyra's research. Scrolls covered every surface. Books lay open on the floor, pages marked with colored ribbons. The air smelled of parchment, ink, and old dust.
"The cult was originally one group," Lyra said, pointing to a diagram she'd drawn. "They worshipped the Deep, the Pestilence, everything that lurked in the dark. About five hundred years ago, they split."
"Over what?"
