The morning light crept through the broken arches of the monastery, pale and trembling, like a hesitant hand brushing against old stone. The air was still damp from the night before, heavy with the scent of moss and age. The world beyond the walls was waking, but inside, silence reigned.Seraphina knelt in the crypt once more, the altar before her aglow with faint, shifting light. The sigils carved into the stone pulsed like veins, answering the quiet rhythm of her breath. Around her, the air shimmered faintly, stirred by something unseen.She pressed her hand against the altar, and the mark on her palm began to shine.Elias stood near the steps, his arms crossed, watching in wary fascination. “You’ve done this since dawn,” he murmured.“It feels like memory,” she said softly. “Not mine, hers.”Lucien, leaning against the wall, shifted uneasily. “And what exactly does she remember?”Seraphina didn’t answer. Her eyes fluttered closed, and the air around her rippled like water. The ligh
Last Updated : 2025-10-22 Read more