SERAPHINA’S POV
Lucian had been gone for days.
No messages. No replies. No half-assed reassurances. Only a silence so absolute it pressed in on all sides, intentional as a locked door.
Maya insisted it was normal.
“He does this,” she said, leaning against the railing after training, arms folded as she watched me towel sweat from my neck. “Solo runs. He goes dark when he needs to. Comes back when he’s ready. It’s not a big deal, I promise.”
I nodded as if I believed her.
I tried to believe her.
But the unease clung to me. It wedged itself between my ribs, a restless weight that grew denser with each sunrise he missed.
Training helped—testing new anchor landscapes, practicing breathing exercises, grounding myself in rhythm instead of force. The burn in my muscles and the steady cadence of my heart left no room for anything else.
But the moment I finished the last set, Lucian’s absence slipped back into focus.
Something was off.
