When the light faded, Lorenzo was no longer standing in the chapel.
The air was heavy and gray, the ground beneath him cracked like burnt glass. The world was colorless, no sky, no sun, no stars. Just endless ash floating like snow.
He coughed, his throat dry. "Aria?"
His voice echoed strangely, bouncing back to him as if the air itself were hollow.
He took a few steps forward, his boots sinking slightly into the dust. Everything was quiet. The silence was wrong. It pressed against his ears until he thought he'd go mad.
Then he saw her.
A figure, standing a few meters ahead, half-turned away. Her white dress was torn, her hair loose and tangled. She looked small in the grayness.
"Aria…" he whispered again.
She didn't move.
He reached out a hand, his steps slow. The air between them shimmered faintly, like heat rising off desert sand. "It's me," he said softly. "It's Lorenzo."
Finally, she turned.
