MasukJulianna POV
The burial ground sat on a low hill above Aethercradle, where the wind always carried the smell of river water and pine. Dawn had come slow and gray, the sky the color of old bruises. A simple stone marker had been raised for Cassian overnight, rough-hewn granite, his name carved deep, no flourish, no epitaph. Just the dates. Too short. Too final.
The village gathered in a loose half-circle. No one spoke above a whisper. Mothers held children close. Men stood with a
Julianna POVThe burial ground sat on a low hill above Aethercradle, where the wind always carried the smell of river water and pine. Dawn had come slow and gray, the sky the color of old bruises. A simple stone marker had been raised for Cassian overnight, rough-hewn granite, his name carved deep, no flourish, no epitaph. Just the dates. Too short. Too final.The village gathered in a loose half-circle. No one spoke above a whisper. Mothers held children close. Men stood with arms folded tight, jaws clenched. The air felt heavy, like it was pressing down on all of us at once.Elara stood closest to the grave. Thorne’s arm was around her waist, but she wasn’t leaning on him, she was holding herself upright by sheer will. Tears streamed down her face in steady, silent rivers. She didn’t sob. She didn’t wail. She just cried, like her body had forgotten how to stop.Thorne’s face was stone, eyes red-rimmed, mouth a flat line, bu
Scott POVThe square was already a graveyard of shattered lanterns and smoldering tables when Seraphine finally moved.She stayed on her knees for one endless second—staring at Cassian’s body like if she looked long enough he might breathe again. Then something inside her snapped. Smoke still curled from scorched stone. The crowd had backed away, far away, like instinct knew better than to stay near a Primarch when the silence came before the storm.The ground beneath her cracked.Not a clean split. A jagged spiderweb of fractures raced outward, stone grinding like teeth. The air turned hot and cold at once—steam rising from the earth while frost crawled up the nearest bench. Her mana surged—wild, uncontainable. A low moan escaped her throat and became a shout.Wind exploded from her in every direction.It hit like a hammer. Villagers screamed as they were flung backward. Tables overturned. Lanterns shattered
Scott POVThe cheering hadn’t even died when the sky cracked open.One second the square was full of lantern glow and laughter—Liora spinning in circles with ribbons in her hair, Seraphine flushed and grinning from her performance, villagers clapping like they’d never seen anything better. The next second the air turned thick, electric. A low rumble rolled through the ground like distant thunder trapped under stone.I felt it before I heard it.A shiver down my spine. The kind that comes right before lightning.Seraphine felt it too. Her smile vanished. She spun toward the riverbank, ice already frosting her palms.“Revenants,” she breathed.Three shapes rose from the darkness beyond the square—tall, churning, wrong.Fire first: a column of flame thirty feet high, black smoke threading through it like veins. Earth next: a hulking thing of grinding stone and root, fire licking along its cracks
Julianna POVThe morning before the festival felt like the village had woken up smiling. Sunlight poured through the open windows of the house, turning dust motes into tiny sparks. Liora ran circles around the kitchen table, waving a string of paper lanterns she’d helped fold the night before. “Mira! Mira! Look! They glow when you hang them high enough!”I laughed and caught her as she spun too fast. “They’re beautiful. You’re going to make the whole square shine.”Seraphine stood at the counter, arms crossed, pretending she wasn’t watching us. “They’re crooked,” she muttered.“They’re perfect,” I said, setting Liora down. “You’re just jealous you didn’t make them.”She rolled her eyes but the corner of her mouth twitched. Progress.Scott appeared in the doorway, sleeves rolled to his elbows, hair still damp from washing. He carried a
Scott POVMorning light sliced through the pines in thin gold blades. The clearing behind the house still smelled of dew and last night’s rain. Seraphine was already there when I arrived, pacing tight circles, hands flexing like she was itching to throw something. Julianna trailed a few steps behind me, arms folded, pretending she was only here to “keep an eye on things.” I didn’t argue. Having her close made the air feel less thin.“You’re late,” Seraphine said without looking up.“It’s barely dawn.”“Exactly.” She stopped pacing, planted her feet, and summoned a small flame in her palm. It flickered—too wild, eating mana too fast. “Show me again. The way you did yesterday. Slow. Controlled.”I exhaled through my nose and stepped into the center of the clearing. Julianna settled on a fallen log at the edge, knees drawn up, watching quietly.“Firs
Scott POVIf someone had told me the most dangerous thing in this village wasn’t Revenants or ancient artifacts, but dinner—I might have laughed.Seraphine burned the porridge.Not metaphorically. Literally.The pot sat in the hearth, blackened on one side, smoke curling lazily upward as she poked at it with a wooden spoon like it had personally offended her.“It’s fine,” she insisted.Cassian stared at the ruined pot. “It’s charcoal.”“It’s crispy.”Liora leaned over the table, nose wrinkling. “I’m not eating this.”Julianna covered her mouth, fa







