Boom!
Another explosion rocked the inside of the bubble. Lyra staggered backward, huffing, panting, barely clinging to consciousness.
If anyone who had known her before should see her now… It was certain a chill would crawl up their balls, and their heart would twist with horror.
She looked wrinkled, pale, and frail. The once-rich brown of her skin although with a pale pallor, now resembled a withered leaf scorched under the punishment of the merciless sun for months—maybe years. Her eyes, carrying a light of madness that seemed to undermine her condition.
It defied belief that she was still alive, and even more baffling than that, was that despite her withered, dying appearance… as much as it didn't make any sense, she was... growing stronger.
It made no sense, no logic could explain it other than that it was indeed stupefying. And perhaps that was the answer. Sometimes, for something to make sense... It simply had to not make sense.
