The fire popped. One soft crack. Then the wood shifted and settled.
Lira stayed where she was, legs drawn up, hands wrapped around one wrist. Her eyes weren't on him now. Just the flames. But she was still listening.
Lindarion watched her for a moment longer. The way she didn't fill the silence with something polite. The way she didn't fidget or try to make it easier.
She let it sit.
He appreciated that more than he'd say.
He turned his gaze back to the embers.
"They had a reason for it," he said quietly. "Or maybe they told themselves they did."
Lira didn't interrupt.
"I heard them talking. When they thought I was unconscious. Or dead."
His voice didn't shake. Just slowed a little.
"They kept saying it had to be done. That they were testing something. That I was special."
Lira's head tilted slightly. Not surprised. Not confused. Just waiting.
"I still don't know what they wanted," he said.
"You will," she said.
He looked over at her.
