SERAPHINA’S POV
If this had happened two months ago—before the Moonlit Spring and Moon Dew Nectar, before I ever set foot in the Starlight Hallway—I would have brushed off the feeling without a second thought.
Fatigue. Nerves. Projection.
I would have taken a steady breath, told myself I was reaching for meaning where there was none, and let the moment pass.
But I was no longer that version of myself.
The instant the energy rippled through me—sharp, discordant, wrong—I knew it wasn’t imagination.
It didn’t come as a thought or a flicker of fear. It pressed in like a change in atmospheric pressure, like the moment before a storm breaks when the air tightens and every instinct screams to run.
I went still, beer sweating in my grip, the tab crumpled beneath my thumb.
Alina stirred, not alarmed, but alert. Watchful.
“Gear,” I said quietly. “Stop the vehicle.”
He glanced to the side, brows creasing. “What?”
“Stop,” I repeated, louder now. “Something’s wrong.”
