Lyra

The walls of this cell no longer speak to me. They have grown tired of my whispers, my pleas, my desperate scratching against stone. Perhaps they know, as I do, that there is nothing left to say. I have long since stopped asking if tomorrow will be the day they come for me. The answer does not matter anymore. I have made peace with my fate, or at least, I have worn myself too thin to fight it. Idrada, my love, I do not know if you still live, or if they have already silenced you. Did they bind your hands? Did they break you, as they have tried to break me? I want to believe you are free, that you escaped and watch over Rinzala now, our little moonlight child. If nothing else, I pray the gods, those cruel and distant ones, look the other way and let you hold her once more. And Castor, my bright-eyed boy, stubborn as the storms,do you hate me for leaving you? Will you curse my name when you learn what I have done? I only ever wanted to keep you safe. And Vega, my changeling star, you were never meant for cages. I hope you have flown far from here, shifting with the winds, untouchable and wild. I wonder if you will remember me. If my name will be whispered in dark corners or erased from the world like a stain. I was never a hero, never a villain, only a mother who loved too deeply, a fool who tried to defy a world that does not suffer kindness. I hear footsteps in the hall. This time, they do not pass my door. I will not beg. I will not cry. I will walk to my death with my head high, knowing that I loved, and that love was worth any price. Let them call me wicked. Let them call me lost. But I know the truth. I was never the monster.