Blaze grew up learning to rely on himself, to find solace in silence, because it was all he’d ever known. His parents might have shared a house with him, but they’d never shared a life. He was, and had always been, alone. Even now, as he stood beside Seraphina, that sense of isolation clung to him, a second skin he couldn’t shed. He longed to tell her, to let her into the parts of himself he kept hidden from the world, but the scars of neglect ran too deep.
And so, as he looked out over the edge of the rooftop, Blaze knew that no matter how much he wanted to let Seraphina in, he would always carry this emptiness. It was the one thing his parents had given him—the only inheritance they had left him. The realization was bitter, yet familiar, a constant reminder of the life he’d been dealt a
