Lyra refused to wait. If she did nothing, the curse would come, and she wasn't sure she'd survive. Kieran reluctantly agreed to help her perform a ritual from the diary.
Candles, symbols, whispered words in a language she didn't understand. Her hands trembled.
Midnight arrived. The room shivered, shadows slithering along the walls. Lyra froze.
"Focus!" Kieran commanded. "Don't let it take you."
The shadows lunged, twisting and coiling like living smoke. One reached for her, brushing her shoulder—but she felt nothing. Her eyes met Kieran's, and she saw something there: fear, but also determination.
Then, just as suddenly, silence.
Lyra's heart thundered. The curse was real. Kieran… was part of it.