The world Seraphine woke to was not light.
It was silver.
Endless silver stretching in every direction, smooth as glass, glowing faintly beneath her bare feet. The sky above shimmered like liquid moonlight, threaded with slow-moving constellations that pulsed as if alive.
She inhaled sharply.
The air tasted ancient.
Powerful.
Lonely.
Her body ached. Not the sharp agony of wounds, but the deep, hollow pain of something missing. Like a limb torn away and replaced with nothing but memory.
She pushed herself upright, heart hammering.
“Lucien,” she whispered.
No answer.
Only the soft hum of magic vibrating through the strange realm.
She stood slowly, testing her strength. Every movement felt heavier than before, as if gravity itself had thickened. Her magic, once wild and explosive,
