Sebastian stood alone in the eastern gallery, where the palace windows stretched high and narrow like watching eyes.
Night pressed against the glass, endless and patient.
Below, Nacrifa slept, unaware of how close it had come to ruin, unaware that its prince had walked into hell and returned unchanged on the surface, but fractured beneath.
Sebastian rested a hand against the cold stone wall.
His pulse was steady.
Too steady.
That was the problem.
He had faced demons without hesitation. Had spoken words that sent ancient creatures crawling back into the abyss. Had threatened eternity without blinking.
And yet...
A single name disrupted his control.
Aliena.
The thought of her came unbidden, sharp and unwelcome. The way her eyes widened when she was startled. The way she tried to hide her fear behind stubborn dignity. The way her presence tugged at something in him he had buried centuries ago ever since his mother died.
Weakness.
He despised it.
