SERAPHINA
Mist.
That was all I could see, and then…
“Seraphina Nightbane, you should have run.”
Dante.
He was smiling.
Half of his face was torn away and flapping, blood gushed down his neck and muscular chest. Yet somehow, he didn’t falter. His stance remained strong. His twisted smile never wavered.
How…?
How was this possible?
How could he still be on his feet after tearing his own face off?
How could he still be alive—still smiling?
That smile sent a shiver down my spine as he whispered, louder this time, “Run, Seraphina…”
When he called my name again, my mother’s old warning echoed in my head like a cracked bell tolling in the fog.
My body didn’t think, it just moved.
I spun so fast my feet barely touched the ground before I was sprinting down the slope. Mud, moss, sharp
