Letter to Lyra Blackwood

The handwriting is a mess—ink smudges, words trailing off, letters slanted and uneven. Clearly, he’s drunk.
Lyra,
So, we’re off to steal a heart. A dragon’s heart. No, not like that. It’s… a rock. Or a stone? An orb, maybe. Anyway, it’s in Zorythis’ lair in the Stormcradle Mountains, and we’re supposed to bring it back like good little Fatebound. Graduation gift. Or execution order. Not sure which.
 
Oh, and get this. Before we left, Princess Seraphina told us she awarded us Orders of Valor for helping her two years ago. Sent the medals to our parents. Maybe she thought I’d use them in some prank. Of course, I would have. How could she think otherwise? But it means I’m a real hero now. Recognized and everything.
 
Now, we’re in Emberbrook, and I am very, very drunk. You’d laugh if you saw me. We’re helping Dame Nyvessa’s brother, Ser Caldrin. Nice guy. Apparently, he’s a traitor now. Except not really.
 
Anyway. We’re helping. When we were looking into things, we went down into one of the old Nytherian ruins and we found something. Something big. I can’t say what it is, not over a letter. But if we meet up, I’ll show you. It’s… yeah. It’s big.
 
Oh, and there’s this guard, and he’s a real piece of—.  I did a thing. Might have gotten a little too friendly with a bottle to get some information. Might have put itching powder in someone’s socks. Might have just been called a “half-elf rat” by some old farmer, but he’s probably right.
 
So. We’re going to the Stormcradle Mountains. You said to write if we were heading your way. Are you still there? Can you meet us? Might need to see a friendly face before we do something incredibly, incredibly stupid.
 
Miss you. Miss the way you used to call me “Rags.” Miss a lot of things. Anyway. Hope you’re still out there. Write back if you can.
 
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The handwriting is steadier here, the lines straighter. He’s sobered up, or at least mostly.
 
We did it. We actually did it. Orren argued for Ser Caldrin, and thank the gods he did. I was still so hungover from the night before that I couldn’t think straight. If I’d had to say anything, we might’ve lost right there. But Orren kept it together, and the court actually listened. Even when Lord Tyron Duskmoor demanded trial by combat, Orren and Zyrelle Duskbane stood for Ser Caldrin. Lady Theryn Duskbane herself was Duskmoor’s champion. We thought we were dead. Zyrelle was ready to go down swinging, and Orren would’ve followed her, but they didn’t have to.
 
Theryn yielded. Just… yielded. Said she believed them. Said she believed they were fighting for an innocent man. I thought all the Duskbanes were evil, but now… maybe not. Maybe there are still some good people left. Maybe we’re not alone in this.
 
And get this—the Adjudicator called us “Guardians of Eldren Law.” That’s right. We actually did something right. Maybe we can do this, Lyra. Maybe we really can.
 
Oh, and Orren found a mastiff. A big one. Duskbane guards had it tied up in front of the jail, and they’d beaten it to make it mean. Orren stole it right out from under their noses. Named her Nibbles—a dog the size of a small horse, named Nibbles. Makes me laugh every time. Not sure how Orren will get the mean out of her. Right now, she growls at everyone but him. But if anyone can teach a half-ton of muscle and teeth how to love again, it’s Orren.
 
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The handwriting is crisp and clear, the quill pressed hard against the page. The writer is tense, angry.
 
We got a letter from Solmere before I could send this one off. The King is dead. His Duskbane wife has taken over, and she sent soldiers to the school to “protect the students.” Except no one’s allowed to leave, and Professors Thornblade and Vexmere were taken away. Everyone but me still has siblings there. They’re just kids, Lyra. Just kids.
 
I keep thinking about that little scrawny first-year, Taryn, with his nose always in a book. Or the little kids who followed Orren around like his own honor guard, hanging on his every word. They’re trapped. And the people who took over the school—they don’t care. If they hurt those kids…
 
I can’t even finish that thought.
 
Eva’s safe. She’s with me. But the others are sick with worry. They’re all putting on brave faces, but I know they’re scared ... and angry.  Very angry. Orren especially—he keeps talking about what he’d do to the Queen if she hurts any of the kids. We’re all thinking it. We’re supposed to be Fatebound now, the great protectors, but what are we supposed to do when the enemy is already inside the walls??
 
I want to go back. But we can’t. Not yet.
 
Caelith