The phantom drew closer, and each step he took seemed to suck the colour from his surroundings. The dead sword in his hand dragged in the air, promising annihilation. Sharon felt her magic pulsing weaker after the ritual, but there was no fear in her eyes. There was determination.
Suddenly, from behind a clump of rushes, Brito emerged. Her face was marred with mud and fatigue, but in her arms she held a small, hunched figure. Elrik. The boy was pale but alive. His large eyes stared up at the hazy sky with quiet amazement.
- Sharon! - shouted Brito, her voice trembling with relief and exhaustion. - 'I found him! He was... hidden in an old shack on stilts, deep in the swamp.
The phantom whined, his attention diverted from Sharon for a moment. That moment was enough. Sharon gathered the remnants of her energy, directing it into the burning pile. The blue fire bubbled higher, and the alien language of the ritual reverberated in her mouth again, this time with desperate power.
The phantom wailed, as if struck by an invisible force. His immaterial form began to twitch, and the dead sword trembled in his hand.
Then Sharon saw her.
She was lying a few metres from the fire, where the mist was thicker. Lyra. Her body was still covered in mud and moss, but the white glow in her eyes had gone out. They were now looking at Sharon with a strange, brittle familiarity.
Sharon ran towards her, ignoring the phantom's faltering moans. She crouched beside Lyra, touching her cold hand.
- "Lyra..." Sharon whispered, a tightening of grief in her throat.
A shadow of a smile appeared on Lyra's distorted face. It was faint, almost invisible, but to Sharon it was brighter than the sun.
- I'm lost... Sharon... - Lyra's voice was barely audible, snarling like the rustling of dry leaves. Her eyes stared hard at Sharon. - But... you found me... Do you remember?
Sharon felt tears under her eyelids. She did remember. She remembered the carefree laughter on the tower roof, the promise made under the stars.
- I remember, Lyro. I remember everything.
Lyra sighed quietly, and her gaze wandered to Brito and the Elrik clinging to her.
- They... safe?
- Yes, Lyra. They're safe. Thanks to you. Thanks to us.
The phantom let out one last, mournful moan, and its form began to disintegrate, like a shadow scattered by the rising sun. The dead sword fell with a deafening clatter into the mud and crumbled into dust. The darkness that had surrounded the place began to recede.
Lyra glanced back at Sharon. There was something like peace in her eyes.
- It's okay... - she whispered. Her breathing became shallower, rarer. - Good... you found me...
Her eyelids drooped. Her hand in Sharon's hand became numb.
The silence of the swamp was different from before. It was no longer menacing and heavy. It was sad. Heavy from loss, but at the same time lighter, as if some dark weight had been lifted from her.
Brito walked closer, hugging Elric. She looked at Sharon and Lyra lying next to her, and understanding and compassion were painted in her eyes.
Sharon sat in the mud, holding her friend's hand. She had found Lyra. Reminded her who she was. But the price proved higher than anyone could have guessed.
The sun was beginning to rise over the marshes, dispersing the remnants of the mist. The first rays illuminated Lyra's motionless face. She looked peaceful, as if she had finally found respite.