SERAPHINA’S POV
The darkness was weightless. Like drifting in warm water.
I vaguely remembered collapsing. Vaguely remembered rain and pain and Kieran’s ragged, panicked voice calling my name.
But I felt detached from those memories, from that life.
Floating. Free.
Then, suddenly, the darkness flickered, and memories began stitching themselves across the void like shards of stained glass catching light.
A laugh—Daniel’s, age four, chubby cheeks smeared with frosting as he proudly plunged his hand into his birthday cake.
The Snowfield Arena; the rush of adrenaline as I mounted Ashar’s majestic form.
The night my father died; the cold look in Kieran’s eyes as he said, “I want a divorce.”
The thunder of applause and cheers as a disembodied voice announced, “And the champions of the Latent Spark Trials are OTS Team One!”
The desperate plea in Kieran's eyes that night on my porch as he held my hands. “You feel it too, don’t you?”
