Tears welled up before Vyan could even blink them away.
That voice. The one he had been dying to hear.
Soft, familiar—it struck something deep in Vyan's chest. His heart gave a violent stutter as he turned, his heart thumping loudly at the sight of her.
There she was.
Iyana.
Alive. Whole. Beautiful.
Her violet eyes—not crimson, not cursed—sparkled beneath the soft glow of the chandelier above. Her lips were slightly parted in curiosity, her expression tinged with confusion. Her hair was left open in soft curls, the way she always styled it before banquets or parties. Her beautiful white gown was untouched by even a speck of dust. She looked exactly as she had before everything crumbled.
So full of life.
Vyan didn't think. Couldn't.
