Edward opened the door to see Seraphine standing before him.
She was still clad in her battle robes—if one could call them that. The fabric was torn in places, scorched along the edges from lightning strikes and fire, and dirt smeared across the hems. Her black hair had slipped loose from its ties, strands falling across her cheeks, her eyes wide and bright even in the dim lamplight of the hall.
"Seraphine?" Edward asked, confusion threading his tone.
"Hii," she said, a little too lightly for the hour, and stepped into his room without waiting for an answer.
Edward blinked, then slowly shut the door behind her, the faint click of the latch sounding louder than it should have.
He turned, brows knit. "What's going—"
Before he could finish the question, her lips pressed against his.
The world fell into silence.
