Serene’s POV
Drifting.
Weightless.
Cold.
That’s what death felt like.
Not peace. Not silence. Not some gentle hand leading me into a warm light.
No. All I felt was rage. It was rage.
My purpose was unfinished, my death wrong.
My soul twisted through the dark open space, tethered to nothing and no one, yet chained to everything I had left behind. I could feel the fury burning inside me—hotter now than it ever was in life. A fire without a body, without bone or blood, to restrain it.
In my mind's eye, I saw Ianthe walking away from my lifeless corpse, wiping the blood from her blade like I had been a mere pest. I saw Roman’s glare of hate and the battle that had ensued between him and Agnar.
I screamed.
Not that it mattered.
No sound came.
Nothing cared.
The world did not care
