Solene collapsed.
Not like a warrior falling in battle—like a candle finally giving out. Her body went slack, her breath shallow. She didn't cry again. She didn't make a sound.
She just blacked out.
Seraphyne caught her before she hit the ground, arms wrapping around cold limbs that no longer held tension. She lowered her gently, kneeling in the snow, brushing hair from Solene's pale, sweat-damp face.
The letter still lay in the frost beside them like a cursed relic.
Seraphyne didn't look at it again.
Instead, her eyes snapped to Lira.
"Take us somewhere safe," she said.
The maid hesitated—clearly overwhelmed, shaking, eyes wide.
Wrong answer.
Seraphyne stood, still holding Solene in her arms. Her cloak whipped in the cold wind as the magic began to stir.
"I said," she repeated, voice dropping, "take us. Somewhere. Safe."
Lira nodded frantically and turned, motioning them toward a narrow corridor beside the wall, hidden by a sculpted hedge. "There's a servant's path," she stammered. "To the west wing quarters—empty during winter, no one checks—"
"Walk."
They moved quickly. The passage twisted between frozen stone and dense, shadowed arches. Seraphyne's boots were nearly silent, but her fury was deafening. It curled beneath her skin, dark fire licking the edges of her composure.
She was trying to keep it in.
She didn't want to scare Solene.
Not yet.
Lira unlocked a hidden door tucked behind a collapsed supply shed and led them inside—an abandoned room with old bedding and cold hearthstone. Dust lingered in the air. It would do.
Seraphyne laid Solene down gently. Covered her with her own cloak.
Then she stood.
And turned.
Lira backed into the wall as Seraphyne stalked forward.
"You have five seconds," Seraphyne said, voice low and venom-smooth. "To tell me the truth."
"I—I swear, I didn't know what was real—"
"One."
"I only gave her the letter, I didn't read it—"
"Two."
"She told me it was from Nerys—"
"Three."
Lira's eyes went wide as Seraphyne's magic broke loose.
Black flame flickered across her arms, licking the air without heat but full of hunger. Her crimson eyes pulsed, pupils narrowing to slits. Her voice deepened—not with volume, but with weight.
"Four."
"She's in the catacombs!" Lira screamed. "Nerys! They took her down there after she refused to write the letter—Adriana forged it, I swear on my life—please—please don't kill me—"
Seraphyne's hand hovered just inches from the maid's face, shadow flame swirling around her fingers like a living threat.
Then it flickered out.
She stepped back.
Lira sank to her knees, gasping, clutching her chest.
Seraphyne turned away.
"She gave that letter to someone she loved and it killed her," she said quietly. "If you lie to me again, I'll make you understand what that feels like."
Lira could only nod, still sobbing.
Seraphyne walked back to Solene's side and knelt again.
She brushed a strand of silver-blonde hair from her face, watching the shallow rise and fall of her chest.
"You came back for her," she whispered. "And she broke for you."
Seraphyne didn't know what she was doing anymore. She didn't know why this girl's pain made something ancient in her ache.
But she did know one thing:
They were going into the dark.
And nothing—not gods, not kings, not Caels—was going to stop her from bringing Solene's fire back.
---