SERAPHINA’S POV
I didn’t sleep. Not really.
I drifted in and out of something like rest, but every time my body tried to settle, my mind lurched and pulled me somewhere else.
First, it was filled with Lucian’s dark blue eyes.
Not angry. Not cold. Just…quietly disappointed.
I faced him in a vast, echoing hall, desperate to explain, but every word I tried to speak vanished into mist before it could reach him.
He watched me with that infuriating patience of his, as if he already knew how the story ended and was simply waiting for me to catch up.
He didn’t accuse or demand—only stayed back and let the space between us stretch until it hurt.
Then the scene fractured.
And there was Kieran.
The sharp line of his jaw, the way his shoulders bowed ever so slightly, as if holding himself upright required constant effort.
His obsidian eyes fixed on me, braced for impact, as if waiting for me was a storm he’d chosen to weather with no protection at all.
