The storm within the cathedral had passed, leaving behind a silence so heavy it felt physical, pressing against the eardrums like the depths of the ocean. The violet fires had settled into smoldering embers, their toxic sweetness replaced by the smell of charred stone and the metallic tang of reality. The morning light, pale and indifferent, filtered through the shattered stained glass, casting long, jagged shadows across the debris of the ruined wedding.
In the center of the wreckage, Lucien's heart gave a sudden, violent thrum.
His eyes snapped open. For a moment, there was only white noise—a high-pitched ringing that drowned out the world. Then, the floodgates opened. The amnesia hadn't just been lifted; it had been incinerated by the golden purity of Gwen's blood. Every moment of the last few months rushed back with the force of an avalanche, crushing the breath from his lungs.
