Caelum remained rooted to the spot, the cool night breeze brushing against his face. The stars above were distant and indifferent, a stark contrast to the storm raging within him. For a moment, he closed his eyes, trying to steady his breathing and still his thoughts. Yet, the harder he tried to find clarity, the more his mind wandered to places he didn't want it to go.
Almost unconsciously, his feet carried him to the middle of the flower field. The vibrant blooms, now muted under the moonlight, swayed gently in the wind. He stopped in the center, the vast expanse around him both comforting and unnerving. The stillness of the moment should have brought him peace, but instead, it gave his restless thoughts room to grow.
A face appeared in his mind—vivid and striking. Crimson hair cascading down like liquid fire, eyes that burned with intensity even when shadowed by disdain. Seraphina. The Crimson Wraith. The woman he had clashed with countless times, whose very existence was an affront to his pride and purpose.
He frowned, his brows furrowing deeply. Why was he thinking about her now? Of all people, why her? It wasn't the first time he had found himself irritated by her presence, but this… this was different. It wasn't just her sharp tongue or the way she always managed to challenge him at every turn. No, it was her face—the way it lingered in his mind, unbidden and unwelcome.
He shook his head, scowling as if the very act could banish her image. But it didn't work. Her features remained etched in his thoughts, clear as day. He recalled the moments from earlier, her subtle expressions when she interacted with the child, the rare softness in her gaze that felt almost out of place. It was… unsettling.
"What nonsense," he muttered under his breath, his voice low and sharp. "She's my rival, my enemy. That's all she'll ever be."
And yet, his words rang hollow even to himself. His frown deepened, his jaw tightening as frustration welled up within him. This wasn't like him. He wasn't the kind of man to be distracted, least of all by someone like her. The animosity between them was ingrained, as natural as breathing. So why did her face haunt him now?
He glanced around the field, as if the answer might be hidden among the flowers. But the field remained silent, offering no solace. The only sound was the rustling of the blooms and the faint chirping of crickets in the distance.
Caelum ran a hand through his hair, letting out a quiet, exasperated sigh. This was ridiculous. He had more important things to worry about—the child, the orphanage, the implications of what they had discovered. Dwelling on Seraphina's face was a waste of time and energy. And yet, no matter how much he tried to push her image away, it clung to him like a stubborn shadow.