SERAPHINA’S POV
Morning light filtered through the tall glass panels of the New Moon Institute, clean and clinical, as though the building itself had decided that whatever chaos had torn through Moonlight Alley did not belong within its walls.
I had no idea if the fire had touched the institute, but if it had, order had reasserted itself.
There were no scorch marks. Any broken structures had been repaired or replaced.
Scholars moved through the corridors with the same quiet purpose as before, their conversations low, controlled, almost deliberately detached from the memory of fire and smoke that still lingered faintly in the air if you paid close enough attention.
Kieran walked beside me, his presence a steady weight at my side.
His shoulder brushed mine occasionally as we moved through the institute, subtle and unintentional, yet each contact anchored me more firmly in the moment.
“You’re thinking too much,” Kieran said, his voice low.
