Panic was a cold, suffocating wave that threatened to drown Lyra where she stood. "Maya! Maya!" Her voice cracked, raw and trembling, as she spun in circles in the middle of the crowded recreational square. The warm afternoon sun felt mocking, illuminating a sea of strangers but showing no sign of her five-year-old daughter. Lyra’s heart hammered violently against her ribs, each beating her own fears. Tears blurred her vision, hot and thick, spilling over her pale cheeks. Beside her, little Leo gripped her hand with terrifying strength. His usually calm, serious face was pale, his dark eyes wide with a matching dread as he looked up at his mother. "Mommy, where’s Maya? She was just reaching for the balloon. Where did she go?" "We're going to find her, baby. We're going to find her," Lyra choked out, though the words felt like ashes in her mouth. Five years of guarding them, five years of hiding from the world, and in one split second of distraction, her worst nightmare had
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