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The Isle of Lyra was littered with similar shops, but she lived most of her life in two places: at the esteemed Temple Academy perched atop the highest hills of the island, or in the shadows as she was now. Fates save her, if Emmeline DeLeoste got caught sneaking into the Lyra Temple Academy’s kitchens one more time to steal the only soap that could properly scrub crimson splotches off the leather, someone was going to start asking questions. Her magic had been suffocating her for hours, and she feared it was ready to burst. Her, reading and the magic that seemed to ebb around her.