Serenya's POV
Morning light slips through the curtains.
I sit on the edge of the bed, staring at the ring still on my finger. It’s quiet now. No hum, no glow. But I can still feel last night — the warmth, the pull, the sound that came out of my throat for the first time in years. I breathe in and out, half-expecting my voice to vanish with the air.
It doesn’t.
I whisper a single word. It catches, rough at first, then smooths into something real. My voice. Mine. I touch my throat, half afraid it’ll fade if I stop thinking about it.
I try again. “Hello. M-my name is Serenya…” The sound steadies. It feels strange, like learning to walk again.
I pull on a loose shirt and jeans, nothing that draws attention. My hair falls naturally over my shoulders; I let it be. My plan is simple — go
