Balance

Mina awoke a few days later, stronger but weighed down by the lingering ache in her side and the memory of what had happened. The orb was absent, and though she wouldn’t admit it aloud, the emptiness by her side felt sharp, as if she’d lost a piece of herself.

Lyra entered with a bowl of steaming broth. “Hungry?”

Mina nodded, sitting up slowly. She hesitated before asking, “Where’s the orb?”

“Safe,” Lyra replied, setting the bowl on the small table beside her. “It’s learning, just like you.”

“I don’t think it meant to hurt me,” Mina said quietly, staring into the broth.

“I don’t think so either,” Lyra said, sitting beside her. “But meaning well isn’t always enough. Do you understand that?”

Mina frowned. “I guess.”

Lyra leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. “The orb is powerful, Mina. And so are you, in your own way. But power without understanding is like running into the Waste blind. You might get somewhere, or you might fall into a pit.”

Mina’s gaze dropped. “So, what do I do?”

Lyra smiled faintly. “You start by listening. And you take responsibility—for yourself and for the orb. If you’re going to keep it close, you need to help it grow, just like it helps you.”