SERAPHINA’S POV
For a single suspended moment, everything else ceased to matter.
Because Kieran was there.
Alive.
And no dream version of him could ever compare to the real, beautiful thing.
Stone dust drifted around him from the shattered doors, catching in the ritual-blue light like fragments of broken sky.
He advanced, boots striking the floor with exacting force, cutting through the chaos more decisively than any power Catherine had wielded so far.
And despite everything—the pressure, the danger, the overwhelming wrongness of the space—I felt relief loosen my chest, so fierce my knees nearly buckled.
Catherine did not share my sentiment.
The darkness around her reacted the moment Kieran stepped into the chamber. It recoiled like it had recognized an intrusion it did not tolerate.
The oppressive aura around her thickened, darkening in hue and heaviness until it felt less like shadow and more like a tangible presence.
