Lyra had always understood the world through the crisp, clean lines of inquiry.
Her thoughts were not words, but structures—elegant, crystalline things she could turn over in her mind, examining each facet.
Now, for the first time, they had color.
A question, once a cool silver, might now bloom with the warm gold of Anya’s understanding, or resonate with the deep, percussive blue of Kael’s certainty.