FROM SLAVE TO LUNA
Serena.
The living room is quiet except for the soft hum of the television. On screen, the portal crackles like angry lightning before winking out, leaving two figures behind in a dull parking garage.
The footage freezes just as Tristan turns his head toward the security camera, glowing silver eyes narrowed, his hair wind-tossed even underground. Thorne stands beside him, radiating static, his fingers still trailing sparks.
“They’re here,” Kaelion growls, stepping closer to the screen.
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