The darkness whispered as the world shifted.
Seraphine opened her eyes to a chamber carved from obsidian and moonlight. The very air was thick—scented with something rich and intoxicating: ancient roses long wilted yet still remembered, wine left to breathe for centuries. The silence wasn’t empty; it was watchful. Expectant. As if the stones themselves were holding their breath.
Towering windows veiled in black silk let in silver moonlight that danced like ghosts across the floor. The ceiling arched above her like the spine of a cathedral, ribbed with dark marble. Shadows curved around every corner, their edges soft and sinuous, curling like tendrils of a memory not yet claimed.
Valen’s palace was hauntingly beautiful.
Cold. Eternal. A kingdom that had never known the warmth of sun.
S
