The Cael Estate stood like a monument to everything Solene hated—tall, cruel, beautiful. Each tower pierced the gray sky like a blade angled at the gods.
She didn't blink.
Didn't breathe differently.
But Seraphyne could feel it.
She was unraveling, thread by thread, and they hadn't even crossed the threshold.
A woman stood at the outer gate. Simple dress. Crimson trim. Familiar face.
"Lira," Solene said, flatly.
The maid's expression twisted into something between grief and apology. "Solene," she whispered. "I'm sorry—gods, I'm so sorry—"
She held out a letter with both hands, like it weighed a hundred pounds.
The Cael seal. Perfect folds. Nerys's handwriting.
Seraphyne stepped in, brows furrowed. "You sure that's from—"
Solene took it without answering.
She opened it with steady fingers.
And read.
Solene,
I lied. I never loved you. You were a weakness I had to outgrow.
Don't come back. There's nothing for you here.
Forget me.
—Nerys
Seraphyne watched Solene carefully. Waited for the ice. The fury. Anything.
But it didn't come.
Solene blinked once.
And then she just... dimmed.
The glow behind her eyes went out.
She didn't cry.
She didn't move.
She stood there, frost creeping across her fingertips, unmoving as the letter slipped from her hand and fluttered to the snow.
Seraphyne took a step toward her. "Solene…"
Solene didn't hear her.
Not really.
Because she was somewhere else now—caught in a loop she couldn't escape.
Nerys's hand in hers.
Nerys pulling her out of the snow, whispering, "You're not broken. You're magic."
Nerys's lips brushing her temple. Nerys laughing after training. Nerys holding her the night before she was exiled, voice trembling as she said, "You're mine."
All of it—
Gone.
Ripped away in six sentences.
Whatever light had survived the frost in Solene's heart shattered like glass.
She turned away from Lira.
And began walking.
Not toward the estate.
Not toward Seraphyne.
Just—away.
Seraphyne caught up in seconds. "Hey—hey, stop—"
Solene didn't stop.
"I need to go," she said, voice dead.
"Go where?"
"Anywhere without a sky."
The frost thickened on the ground as she moved. Her skin paled. The wind picked up.
"Solene—what are you doing?" Seraphyne stepped in front of her. "Look at me."
Solene didn't look.
"I should've died," she whispered.
"No—"
"I should've stayed in the mountains. Let the wolves rip me open. Let Gareth end it. I shouldn't have come back."
Seraphyne grabbed her by the arms. "Stop talking like that."
But Solene was already forming the spell.
Ice magic spiraled around her hands—sharp, jagged, precise. A spear of frost curved toward her own heart, ready to drive through.
"I don't want to feel this."
"You don't have to," Seraphyne snapped. "Not alone."
"It hurts."
"I know."
But Solene's hands shook harder. Her lips trembled.
"I wasn't supposed to lose her."
"You haven't."
"She wrote it, Seraphyne. She wrote it." Her voice cracked, finally, and the tears fell. Slow. Silent. "She lied to me every time she said my name."
"No," Seraphyne said. "That letter lies. But you don't get to die because of it."
The frost lance hovered.
Then—
Seraphyne dropped her voice to a whisper.
"I'd miss you."
Solene looked up, eyes wide.
That hesitation was enough.
Seraphyne moved fast—stepped in and knocked the spell wide. The ice shattered against a stone pillar, spraying the snow in glittering shards.
Then she pulled Solene in. Held her.
And for the first time since exile, Solene collapsed into someone's arms.
Not screaming.
Just… empty.
Seraphyne didn't speak again.
She just held her.
As the cold raged around them and Tartarus watched in silence.