Vincent/ Vaelthor/ Star
I sat there in that strange, vine-draped room, the air thick with the scent of blooming nightshade and damp earth, feeling like a shadow of myself—literally. My head pounded like a war drum, fragments of dreams swirling just out of reach, but nothing solid, nothing real. Katrina's blue eyes, rimmed with unshed tears, bored into me like accusations. She looked at me as if I'd just ripped her heart from her chest and crushed it under my boot. And maybe I had, without even knowing it. Nicholas and Winter hovered nearby, their faces a mix of shock and helplessness, like statues frozen in a storm. I didn't know them—not really—but the ache in my chest told me I should. Especially her. Katrina. The name alone stirred something deep inside, a whisper of fire in the darkness.
