Right in the heart of battle, with her defeat imminent, Lyra's thoughts flickered to the priestess, Xhi.
Not to the individual herself, but rather, the conversation they'd once had, when Lyra had angrily complained that her magic lacked cohesion.
At that time, the priestess had said to her,
"Unlike Lugh, you're severely underutilizing your abilities."
"What do you mean by that?"
Lyra had demanded.
Xhi's answer had come without hesitation.
"Think of it as a gun. A rifle. One you only use to bludgeon someone. Effective? Yes. But that's not even close to what it's truly capable of."
Lyra remembered that exchange vividly—and the memory made her blood boil. Not because Xhi was wrong. But because, despite pointing her toward something critical, the priestess had refused to offer any further explanation.
"I don't know more than that,"
She had claimed.
Whether it was a lie or truth, Lyra had never been able to tell.
