Seris:
“Ariane.”
Her name left my lips like an oath broken by time.
The shadows didn’t shift. The wind didn’t howl. The forest didn’t stir.
But she did.
She turned as though she’d felt it in her marrow—my voice, my presence, and when she began to look for me, I forgot what it meant to be cursed. To be feared. To be me.
Because she saw me.
Not like the others did, not with suspicion or awe—but like I was someone worth missing.
The moonlight caught her features in delicate silver strokes, softening every sharp angle. Her eyes searched the dark like they were waiting for the impossible.
And then they found me.
Her breath hitched. Her lips parted.
The night didn’t stir. The wind didn’t howl. The world held its breath.
But she—she moved.
She did not move like a startled thing, not
