The fire crackled softly in the hearth, its glow stretching long across the stone floor.
Rose sat curled on the edge of the velvet chaise, the blanket draped around her shoulders doing little to hide the truths written into her new form. Wings folded like broken promises behind her, too large for the room, too foreign for comfort. Her horns gleamed in the firelight, smooth and curved, as if they’d always belonged.
She hadn't spoken since they brought her back.
Not because she didn’t want to—but because she wasn’t sure what would come out. Words, screams, flames? She didn’t trust her own breath.
The warmth helped. A little. So did the room—isolated, quieter than the royal chambers. Someone had moved her here without a word. A place to heal, maybe. Or a place to hide.
The flames danced
