~ Seraphina’s POV ~
The corridors of the Silver Moon packhouse still clung to the scent of blood and smoke from the earlier chaos. Beneath the sheen of polished wood and flickering lamplight, the memory lingered like a bruise on the skin of this place.
I remembered too — the ache in my wrist, the throb of stone splitting my brow, the sting of humiliation when those warriors looked at me like I was a wild thing that needed to be put down.
Like I was filth.
Like I was someone dangerous.
Like I was nothing.
I should’ve stayed in my room.
I knew it the way you know a storm is coming, felt it like a weight in my chest. I should’ve curled up in the bed they assigned me, let the night take me, and pretended this cursed day never happened.
But I couldn’t.
Not with my mind replaying what
