[The Valley—Inside Mikhail's Dwelling]
The door shut behind Seraphina with a muted thud.
The inside of the stone dwelling was sparse. Shelves carved directly into the walls held old books, rolled parchments, jars sealed with wax.
A single lamp burned low, casting long shadows that stretched and bent across the floor.
Mikhail didn't offer her a seat.
He stood near the hearth with his arms folded and his posture closed in on itself like a shield that had never been lowered.
"You shouldn't be here," he said.
Seraphina removed her coat slowly. "You wouldn't have opened the door if that were true."
His jaw tightened. "I opened it because you used her name."
Silence fell between them.
"You don't get to do that," he added quietly. "Not after everything."
Seraphina met his gaze. "I wouldn't have if it weren't necessary."
Mikhail let out a breath that sounded more like a scoff. "Necessary," he repeated. "That word has buried more people than any spell."
She didn't argue.
