Three years ago.
The Voss family manor stood quiet under a moonless sky, its once-grand halls now shadowed and modest. In the small bedroom at the end of the upper corridor, a single candle burned low, casting soft golden light across the walls.
Nova, ten years old, lay curled on his side in the narrow bed. His long silver- hair spilled across the pillow like spilled ink.
Against his chest, tucked under his chin like a living teddy bear, was Sera—his snow-white kitten, barely more than a handful of fluff.
She purred steadily, a gentle vibration that soothed him more than any lullaby ever could.
Beside the bed sat Lady Elara Voss.
She was breathtaking even in the dim candlelight.
Long silver hair was swept up into an elegant noble twist, a few loose strands framing her heart-shaped face. Her violet eyes—soft, kind, endlessly patient—shone with maternal warmth.
