High Tower – NightfallThe flames had burned to embers long ago.Emereah lay restlessly on the narrow pallet of furs, on her side, one hand curled protectively over the roundness of her belly.Beyond, the wind screamed against the stone walls of the tower. Storm brewed on the horizon.In her mind…Fire.Winding, seething flame.She stood on burned earth, barefoot, the heavens above her staining red and gold, the air itself aflame with ash. Sweat-soaked, her nightdress stuck to her skin. Smoke irritated her eyes.And then—She saw him.Vladimir.Ablaze.Flames wrapped around his shoulders like a crown. His hands, outstretched toward her, burned and shaking.His eyes—wild, haunted eyes—glowed gold. Not with fury. But with something much more deadly.Love.Real. Bleeding. Raw."Emereah," he called out, voice a deep echo.She stepped back. The heat closed in, intolerable."Why are you here?" she demanded, voice breaking. "You imprisoned me—""I shattered them," he said. "For you. For us.
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