"Hello, my children!" Seraphine beamed, lounging elegantly behind a curved desk of polished moon wood. Her voice rang with warmth and power, motherly but unmistakably divine.
Before her stood five figures: Darfin, Lucy, Tara, Adgrun, and Erot—each straight-backed, each carrying their own expectations like armor.
Lucy, meanwhile, was openly gawking.
'Damn,' he thought.
Seraphine looked radiant today. Her silver hair curled slightly at the ends, catching the light like divine silk. Her light blue eyes glowed with an almost unnatural luster, and her violet dress hugged her figure with tailored perfection, so tightly it was practically a sin.
She caught him staring and winked.
Lucy's heart kicked up in his chest—until it didn't.
The moment her lashes fluttered, a cold memory splashed into him. Rain. Bloody rain. Screams. The stench of iron. The weight of bodies.
He flinched and shook his head as if trying to rattle the ghosts out of his skull.
