Seraphine's POV
The first arc of music drifted through the hall like a warm wave across marble. At the first step, pain pulsed at my side, reminding me that tonight I could only move as far as my body allowed. My dress was light but structured, the collar cool against my skin—its quiet promise that “no neck” would hold. The ribbon at my wrist brushed softly as I moved.
Darius guided me from just above the elbow, wearing gloves as we had agreed. Our breaths fell quickly into the same rhythm:
One, two, three — in.
One… two… three… four — out.
The Veil held.
Outward: a dance, a bridge, protocol.
Inward: the pull.
It didn’t tug this time; it stretched like a quiet, tuned string beneath my ribs, humming gently with each turn. Clear, steady.
A small whisper ran along the hall’s edge and
