Three months had passed since the sealing of the rift.
The Veilwood Estate had transformed. The black stone walls were now woven with climbing ivy and golden flowers, their petals catching the sunlight like scattered jewels. The guards still stood watch, but their postures were relaxed, their eyes bright with something they had not felt in decades: peace.
And at the heart of this peace, Evelyn Blackwood—soon to be Evelyn Vane—moved through her days with quiet contentment.
Her pregnancy had progressed smoothly. The child within her was strong, its heartbeat a steady, rhythmic drumbeat that she could feel against her palm. She spent her mornings walking through the gardens, her afternoons tending to the clinic, and her evenings reading ancient texts in the library, preparing for the futur
