The candlelight flickered against the cold stone walls of Seraphina's chamber, casting shadows that danced like restless ghosts. Her breath came in shallow waves as she lay tangled beneath silken sheets, the memory of Caius's touch still burning on her skin.
His fingers—strong, yet gentle—had traced the line of her jaw, sending sparks she hadn't expected straight to her core. The way his silver eyes held hers, raw and unguarded, made her forget everything she thought she knew about power and pain.
He had kissed her—not a courtly peck, but a slow, demanding claim that left no doubt of the hunger beneath the surface.
She'd pulled away, heart pounding, cheeks flushed. Yet the ache between them had only deepened.
Now, in the stillness of the night, Seraphina closed her eyes and let herself remember.
⸻
Caius's voice had been a whisper. "Why do you always look like you're carrying the weight of the world… and afraid it will crush you?"
She had smiled, a shadow of the woman she once was. "Because I am."
He had reached out, his hand sliding beneath the loose fabric of her robe, tracing a path down her neck and over the delicate swell of her collarbone. His touch was fire and ice all at once.
She had shivered—not from cold, but from something darker. Something dangerous.
"Tell me," he murmured, lips hovering near her ear. "Tell me what haunts you."
She had hesitated. The secrets buried beneath her skin were not easily given.
But the moment stretched thin, a fragile thread between them.
And then—
Magic.
A pulse, fierce and electric, surged through her chest, the echo of emotions tangled and raw.
Fear. Desire. Rage. Memories.
Her eyes snapped open, meeting his in the dim light.
He saw it—the glow beneath her skin, faint but undeniable.
"You're hiding more than just words," he said, voice low.
"I'm hiding power," she confessed.
⸻
The magic inside Seraphina was not like the books described in dusty tomes or whispered in hallowed halls.
It was visceral.
Tied to the most primal parts of her being.
Her emotions were the fuel—the fire that shaped and shattered spells.
Lust could bend reality; grief could shatter mountains; rage could burn cities to ash.
Even the faintest whisper of memory could awaken the dormant energy within her, weaving threads between past and present, love and hate, life and death.
She had learned this the hard way.
Her hands trembled as she raised them, willing the glow to appear again.
Soft tendrils of violet flame flickered to life around her fingertips, responding to her heartbeat, pulsing with the rhythm of longing.
"It's why I crushed that dagger last night," she said, voice barely above a whisper. "Because my magic doesn't just protect me—it remembers."
Caius stepped closer, eyes darkening with awe and something dangerously close to reverence.
"And what else does it remember?" he asked.
She looked away, the weight of her past pressing down.
"Everything."
⸻
Suddenly, the chamber door creaked.
A sharp reminder that this dance with power and passion existed in a world of shadows and schemes.
Seraphina's fingers closed into fists.
Her journey was just beginning.
And the vision beneath the blood was waiting.