The palace gates loomed ahead—tall, white stone glowing warmly beneath the afternoon sun. The weather was perfect in a way that felt suspiciously symbolic. Blue skies. Gentle breeze. Not a single ominous cloud in sight.
The gates opened. And my father ran. Not walked. Not strode. Ran. Full-on sprinted across the courtyard, crown slightly askew, robes flapping, tears streaming down his face like he had personally offended the gods and they were collecting payment.
"SERAPHINE!"
I barely had time to stand before he crushed me in a hug. "I thought—" His voice broke. "I thought I lost you. They said you glowed. They said you didn't move. I thought—"
"I'm fine," I croaked, because he was hugging me like he was trying to fuse our souls. "Dad. Air. I need air."
Behind him stood King Vael, dignified and smiling, and Queen Luna, whose eyes shimmered with unshed tears. And then—Princess Milabuella. Smiling.
