Seamus.
His expression was hollow. Exhausted. There were dark circles beneath his silver eyes, the scruff on his face thick with neglect. He looked like a man aging far too quickly.
So he remembers this place exists after all, Elena thought bitterly.
Before he could see her, she murmured a spell under her breath—a new one, one she'd practiced over the last few weeks when she wanted to disappear from watchful eyes. Her form melted into the shadows, hidden completely.
She followed.
Inside, Seamus hesitated, glancing at the faintly burning incense.
He noticed I was here, Elena thought.
He walked toward the altar slowly. His boots echoed against the flagstones. His gaze fell upon something lying by the feet of the Saintess altar.
The talisman. Her talisman.
He bent to pick it up.
A single bloody tear ran down the cheek of the Saintess statue as he did, glistening unnaturally in the dim chapel light.
"What in the…" he whispered.
His ring flared faintly with light.
He turned slowly, scanning the room. Elena held her breath.
Does he know? Can he feel me here?
He turned back to the statue and placed the talisman gently on the altar, pressing his lips together tightly. His shoulders sagged with the weight of invisible chains.
Then, he spoke.
"I don't know why this is happening."
His voice was soft. Cracked.
Like something broken, trying to hold its shape.
"But please… watch over Elena."
Elena's eyebrows rose in surprise from her place in the shadows.
What are you doing, Seamus? Praying? Now?
"I know I'm not the most faithful. I've made mistakes. But if you have any grace to spare, she's the one who needs it."
"She's hurting. And I… don't know how to reach her."
He collapsed into one of the pews, burying his face in his hands.
"Is history just fated to repeat itself?"
"Magic may be real, but I'm starting to think this whole thing is utter- "
He snapped upright, face twisted in frustration.
"BULLSHIT!"
His voice thundered off the walls.
Elena flinched.
Then chaos.
Seamus began throwing pews, splintering wood against stone. He ripped the garlands from the walls, scattering petals and leaves like shredded parchment. He overturned tables, kicked over the flower stands, smashing what little beauty was left.
A man unraveling.
A storm unchained.
Elena stood by the door, still cloaked in shadows, frozen by the weight of it all. Part of her was terrified. But a larger part felt something else:
Comfort.
Vindication.
A strange relief.
So he does care.
He hurts too.
Eventually, breathless and heaving, Seamus slumped to the floor at the foot of the altar. His back leaned against the marble base, hands shaking as he picked up the talisman again.
He clutched it to his chest and wept, the sound of his weeping
a raw, guttural sound torn from somewhere deep and ancient.
Elena couldn't look away.
Silent tears streaked her cheeks, falling unseen beneath her invisible veil.
She said nothing.
Just watched.
Watched the man who loved her break completely for the first time.
And when it was over, when the only sound left in the chapel was the soft drip of rain from the rafters, Elena slipped out through the door.
She dropped the spell outside, letting herself become visible again as she leaned against the heavy doors. Her back still ached and ached. Her body still trembled. She covered her mouth with one shaking hand to muffle her own sobs.
What a pair we make, she thought bitterly.
Two broken souls.
Two storms that couldn't find calm in each other.