SERAPHINA’S POV
Whether it was the lingering magic of the fireworks, or the quiet grounding of Lucian’s bracelet, or simply the fact that I was finally ho—back in my own bed, beneath my own roof—after so long, I had the best night’s sleep in forever.
Not the shallow, fractured drifting where dreams snagged and unraveled the mont I reached for them, but real sleep—the kind that wrapped around gently and didn’t let go until morning insisted.
When I woke, sunlight spilled across the sheets in pale gold bands, and for a lingering, peaceful mont, I just lay there, breathing.
My mind felt...still.
No buzzing at the edges. No restless tug beneath my ribs. The constant hum I’d grown accustod to since my psychic abilities awakened had dimd to sothing distant and manageable.
I rolled onto my side and glanced at my wrist. The bracelet sat there, unassuming and graceful, its beads cool against my skin. When I traced my thumb over them, a gentle warmth blood, like a silent reassurance.
I smiled to myself and finally got up.
I padded barefoot through the house, fingers gathering my hair, the echoes of last night still clinging to the air—laughter, warmth, voices weaving together like a fading song.
I opened windows, letting crisp air sweep through, then busied myself in the kitchen.
I missed cooking.
There was a comfort in the rhythm—cracking eggs, slicing fruit, the gentle sizzle of butter in the pan—that anchored in the here and now.
I humd as I worked, slipping back into the dostic, mundane pattern as if I’d never left.
Daniel padded in halfway through, hair a ss, eyes still heavy with sleep.
“Morning, Mom,” he mumbled.
“Morning, baby,” I said, leaning over to kiss his temple.
He gave an adorable crooked smile. “I still can’t believe you’re actually ho.”
I chuckled. “Maybe your favorite pancakes would help?”
His eyes lit up as he nodded emphatically. “Absolutely.”
I laughed, ruffling his hair. “Sit. It’ll be ready in a minute.”
Just then, the doorbell rang.
The sound startled —not for its surprise, but for its sheer normalcy. A doorbell, ringing on a calm morning. No alarms. No ergencies. Just ordinary life.
I wiped my hands on a towel and headed for the door.
I wasn’t surprised to see Ethan standing on the other side.
He looked much the sa as always—tall, broad-shouldered, posture radiating Alpha command—but there was a weariness around his eyes that hadn’t been there the last ti I saw him.
“Hey,” I said, opening the door wider.
“Hey,” he replied, a small smile tugging at his mouth. “rry Christmas. Or...day after.”
“Still counts,” I said, stepping aside. “Co in.”
He hesitated for half a second, glancing past into the house. “I’m sorry I wasn’t around last night. With Mom away—”
“I understand,” I said, ignoring the way my chest tightened at the ntion of our mother. “I rember what Frostbane Christmases are like. I wouldn’t have expected you to leave your responsibilities for .”
Sothing in his eyes flickered, and he sighed before stepping in.
I frowned at the space behind him.
“Maya didn’t co with you?”
Out on the balcony, after receiving his gift, I’d given Lucian a summary of my travels and new abilities.
But I’d told Maya everything—about the Origin Archives and the Starlight Hallway, about the way the air had felt wrong long before the ambush, about the rogues and the silencer and the mont Seabreeze intervened.
And then there were the quieter things.
Corin’s sessions. The anchor work. The way my powers felt less like a storm now and more like sothing listening back.
I’d talked until my throat went raw, tracing every choice I’d made, every instinct I’d trusted, every mistake I’d survived.
Maya hadn’t interrupted once. She’d just sat there, knees pulled to her chest, eyes sharp and unblinking, absorbing it all like she was morizing .
When I finally ran out of words, she’d crossed her arms and declared she was staying the night—no argunts, no negotiations.
Getting her to leave had been a herculean task, requiring bribery, coercion, and the promise of a breakfast check-in.
So seeing her absent from Ethan’s side now was genuinely puzzling.
Ethan’s lips parted with a response to my query, but then—
“UNCLE ETHAN!”
Daniel appeared out of nowhere like a missile, launching himself forward with unrestrained enthusiasm.
Ethan barely had ti to brace before Daniel wrapped himself around his waist, arms clinging tight.
Ethan laughed, startled. “Whoa—hey there!”
“You’re here!” Daniel grinned up at him. “You’ve never been here before!”
“I...haven’t,” Ethan admitted, glancing at over Daniel’s head with sothing like surprise.
The realization hit at the sa ti: this was the first ti Ethan was visiting my new ho since the divorce.
“Well, co on!” Daniel grabbed his hand without ceremony. “I’ll show you everything!”
And just like that, Ethan was being dragged inside as Daniel launched into an overly detailed tour.
“This is the living room—Mom’s favorite chair is over there, but don’t sit in it unless she says you can. That’s the bookshelf, we had to move it to make room for the tree—”
I watched them disappear, warm amusent curling in my chest.
Ethan Lockwood, the formidable Alpha of Frostbane, was being paraded through my house by a ten-year-old with the seriousness of a museum guide.
I shook my head, smiling, and returned to the kitchen.
By the ti they returned, breakfast was ready. Ethan looked a little dazed, but more relaxed than when I’d first opened the door.
We sat down together at the table, the morning light slanting in through the windows. Ethan took a bite of his pancake and paused.
“This is...really good,” he said.
I raised a brow. “You sound surprised.”
He shrugged, smiling faintly. “I just...I don’t think I’ve ever eaten your cooking before.”
The implication caught briefly, but I let it pass.
As we ate, conversation flowed easily—Daniel recounting the party last night with dramatic flair, Ethan listening with genuine interest.
After breakfast, when Daniel went upstairs to wash up, Ethan reached for the bag he’d brought with him.
“I have sothing for you,” he said, setting it on the table between us.
The sight of it sent an unexpected ache through my chest.
My brows knit together before I even noticed the frown tugging at my face.
Ethan grimaced. “I’m sorry. I should’ve—”
“No,” I interrupted, forcing my face to relax. “It’s not that. It’s just...unexpected. You’ve never really given a gift before.”
He nodded slowly, understanding dawning in his eyes—and with it, sothing darker. Regret.
“I didn’t co just to drop off a present,” he said. “There’s sothing we need to talk about.”
I set the gift aside. “I’m listening.”
“I just...I want you to be aware of what to expect.”
My brows drew tighter. “What do you an?”
“Now that you’ve broken the seal,” he continued carefully, “mories are going to co with your unlocked power. Things that might...shock you.”
The words landed like a crack in ice.
“You know about that?” My voice ca out as a hoarse tremor.
Ethan winced. “I do. But not like you think.”
My fingers curled against the edge of the table. “How long?”
“Not long,” he said quickly. “I swear. I only learned about it recently when...odd mories resurfaced. If I’d known back then, if I’d had any idea what our parents were planning, I would never have let it happen.”
A tightness gripped my chest, thoughts whirling as I tried to absorb what my brother was revealing.
I could feel the new bond Ethan and I had been tentatively forming over the last couple of months pull taut.
He saw it in my face.
“I didn’t keep this from you,” he said urgently as if in a panic. “I promise. I was kept in the dark, too.”
“But...you knew sothing was wrong,” I said quietly.
“I knew sothing,” he admitted. “Not what. Not why. Just that there were things that didn’t sit right. And I don’t know why, but I never felt the need to question them.”
I pushed back from the table slightly. “And now?”
I searched his eyes, looking for deflection, for evasion.
All I found was guilt. And anger. And sothing like grief.
He sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. “So things can’t be explained in a few sentences, Sera.”
He reached for the bag again and pulled out a thick, leather-bound book.
“This,” he said, setting it gently in front of , “might help.”
I looked down at it, pulse racing.
“What is it?”
“A diary,” he said quietly. “Mom’s.”
My stomach dropped.
“She told to give it to you before she left,” Ethan continued. “Said...said it was ti.”
I stared at the book.
My mother’s diary.
Answers.
Or more questions.
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