Chapter 53 – The Weight of the Dawn
The night air still clung to the valley like a shroud when Elena opened her eyes. For a moment, she thought she was still dreaming — the soft, muted glow of the early dawn painting the ceiling above her in shades of gray and gold. But then the ache in her chest returned, heavy and real, reminding her that the storm of the previous night had not been a nightmare but truth.
Damien was gone.
The scent of him — that faint mix of cedarwood and smoke — lingered faintly on the sheets beside her, cruelly mocking her with memories of warmth that had evaporated with the morning. The echo of his voice still haunted the corners of her mind: the way he had said her name before disappearing into the darkness, the way his eyes had burned with both love and guilt.
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