Seraphina wasted no time. If Raziel had left clues, if he was watching her, then she wouldn't sit back and wait for answers to come to her.
She would find him first.
—❖—
The forests beyond the Silver Flame stronghold were ancient, their towering trees whispering with unseen magic. This was where the oldest ruins lay—places that had existed long before recorded history, where time itself felt stretched thin.
And it was here that Seraphina's mark pulsed.
The closer she got, the stronger the glow became. It wasn't just guiding her—it was reacting to something.
To him.
She pressed forward, her fingers grazing the hilt of her sword, senses sharpened. She wasn't foolish enough to think Raziel would welcome her. But she would not cower before him, either.
Then, as if summoned by her resolve, the air around her shifted.
Darkness rippled at the edges of the trees, the wind dying all at once. A pressure settled over her, thick as a storm about to break.
A voice—deep, controlled, and far too calm—slipped through the silence.
"You've come looking for me."
Seraphina's breath hitched.
From the shadows, he emerged.
Raziel.
And for a single, terrifying second—
She remembered.
Fire.
Blood.
His arms around her as the world burned.
His voice, whispering her name—not Seraphina. Elara.
She staggered back, hand flying to her head as the memory seared through her.
Raziel watched her, silver eyes unreadable, his presence both commanding and eerily still.
"You remember," he murmured.
Seraphina swallowed hard, her heartbeat loud in her ears. "I don't know what this is."
His gaze softened—only slightly. "You will."
She lifted her chin. "Then tell me."
A faint, humorless smile touched his lips. "Not yet."
She gritted her teeth. "Why?"
Raziel stepped closer, his voice low, deliberate. "Because the truth is not kind."
The moment stretched between them, thick with something unspoken.
Seraphina should have felt threatened. Should have raised her sword.
But she didn't.
Because despite everything—the war, the history, the unknown—
She didn't feel like she was standing before an enemy.
She felt like she was standing before a ghost.
—❖—