The walls of Rosaline's chambers felt like they were closing in on her. The once-grand furnishings, silken drapes, and dim, flickering ether lamps did nothing to fill the emptiness in her chest. The low-quality ether cast a sickly, uneven glow, warping the edges of her surroundings and making the space feel even smaller and more suffocating. It was as though all color had drained from the world, leaving only muted shades of grief and quiet, seething rage.
She had lost her child.
A child that should have been Damian's. A child that should have secured her place at his side. But now there was only silence, a deafening void where the future had once blossomed in her mind.
