The fire crackled softly in the hearth, casting golden light across Valen’s bare chest as he lay beside her, the night quiet around them—yet inside Seraphine, everything trembled.
She turned to face him, her fingers tracing the scar over his heart, her voice low but steady. “Corven came to me.”
Valen’s eyes opened, dark and alert in an instant. “What did he say?”
Seraphine hesitated. Then, “He told me… you’ve already bonded with me. With the oldest magic your kind possesses.”
Valen said nothing at first. His expression didn’t shift—didn’t deny it. Instead, he sat up slowly, his gaze resting on her like gravity. “Yes,” he said simply. “The moment I chose you—truly chose you—it began. The bond has already started to thread through us.”
She searched his eyes. “Then… I want to do it, too.
