At dawn, people tested the air. A boy closed his eyes and begged for wings. He opened them to find only his ordinary arms. A girl prayed that her doll would walk. The doll was made of cloth and wood.
Shock rippled across Elaria. Grief followed. Many wept for powers gone, accusing the gods or fate. Some whispered angrily about Lyra, for rumors of her wish spread quickly.
But slowly, day by day, they adjusted.
The baker learned to knead without shortcuts. Farmers sweated in their fields once more and watched honest growth. The prince, robbed of his unnatural brilliance, found his listeners drifting away.....until he discovered he must earn admiration through practice.
And in time, a strange peace descended. Lives became steadier. Contradictions ended. People learned again to plant patience instead of craving miracles.
Even grief took on new meaning. The widow whose wife had been resurrected falsely laid her once more to rest, this time with acceptance. The girl who wished the sea to glass saw waves return, beautiful not for their transparency but for their endless, living change.
Lyra carried both blame and gratitude upon her shoulders. Some resented her forever. But others thanked her, quietly, for saving the world from unmaking.
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