The room was quiet, the only sound being the faint crackle of the candle on the bedside table and the whisper of the night breeze slipping in through the half-open window. Elric sat motionless on the sofa, his hands resting on his knees, his gaze fixed on the sleeping figure across the room.
Seraphine stirred. Slowly, almost dreamlike, she rose from her bed. The crimson dress she had worn earlier still clung to her frame, its folds catching faint silver light from the moon. Her blonde hair spilled over her shoulders in tangled waves, giving her an almost ethereal look like a painting left unfinished yet still breathtaking.
Elric stood immediately, as if pulled by instinct. His body tensed, his hand brushing against the hilt of his sword though he made no move to draw it. For a moment, he wasn't sure which Seraphine had awakened. Would it be the calm, fragile one who smiled gently at him… or the sharp, unrecognizable personality from the other day?
