Chapter 77
Chapter seventy-seven
Seraphina
The soles of her feet padded against the stone manor floor.
It was quiet. Most of the coven members that Alistair had saved—almost fifty of them—were still asleep.
It was late, but she’d awoken to the barest hint of a pull in her chest. She told herself it was a phantom pain. That it had been too long without him.
Still, Sera had not grieved him. She refused.
She bottled all that emotion up and pushed it down while she took care of Dominick. When she met with Alistair and Chair Thorne, she learned about the dysfunction and the role her mother had played with the Council. The deaths. The aliato placing themselves in a throne. It was all so backward.
Over the last three days, she had found no books or records on regeneration. And with each passing hour… her hope dwindled.
It had been days, and she’d found nothing.
But then there was another tug.
As soon as she snuck out of the room she shared with Dom, Sera threw out her mist in a wiry tendril and let it lead her.
She followed the smoke as it curved down a hall she’d never seen before.
It was warmer in this part of the manor.
The tunnels looked newly carved. As she turned down a new hall, a set of black doors appeared.
Shadows and black flames encircled the frame.
Carved depictions of demons and castle guardians adorned the doors.
The handle was cool to the touch, but it wouldn’t turn.
“I wonder…” Sera blew an ember at the stone doors. The flame joined the flickers beside it, and just like the exit to the training grounds, the door slid open.
Sera let out a cry when she realized where she was.
Sandalwood and ash breezed by her—a familiar haunting she’d thought she’d never smell again.
A rich desk was piled high with books and ledgers. Fur rugs were strategically placed around the room between chairs and other sitting areas. A chandelier lit and began to dance across the ceiling.
On the far side of the room was a four-poster bed. More demon forms were carved into the posts. The sheets were black satin, and Sera laughed to herself, wiping her nose on her sleeve. Of course he’d have satin sheets.
Rich tapestries lined the walls on either side of the bed, depicting scenes from the first battles—ones she had seen only in the oldest books in the keeper wing.
A closet door cracked, and Sera went inside.
She breathed in his scent. Rack after rack of black evening wear, training leathers, and shirts lined the walls.
She found one of Vasso’s gray satin sleeping shirts in a drawer and slipped it on.
Sera padded her way to the bed and curled up in his sheets. His scent, his closeness—it was the first time she’d been able to take a deep breath since leaving him behind.
Things had gotten so muddled. Not that anything in her life had been easy, but Vasso had changed her. He had made her better, stronger. A lasting mark that she’d have till the end of her days. But what she wouldn’t give to have him here with her now.
Her hand glided over the satin pillowcase.
Thump.
She gasped.
Thump.
Sera ran her hand over her chest. The manor began to shake, and the chandelier above her swung violently. Small pebbles fell from the stone ceiling.
She cried at the rushing heat that sparkled through her chest, then laughed when she felt the threads she’d thought had disappeared start to knit themselves back together. They crisscrossed through the chambers of her heart. A flash of power ripped through the stone, the continent, the planet.
Power—his power—buzzed through her limbs. More than she’d ever held within her body before. A well with no bottom somehow dove deeper.
Sera choked back tears and spoke aloud, for no one but Shadow to hear.
“He’s alive."