SERAPHINA’S POV
The scent hit me before the inn came fully into view.
It wasn’t particularly strong or terrible, just…unique enough to tell me we had crossed into a place where too many stories overlapped, where too many identities blurred together in ways that made instinct sharpen.
I slowed, adjusting the hood of my cloak as my gaze swept over the structure ahead.
From a distance, it looked unremarkable.
Two stories of timber and stone. A weathered sign hung slightly crooked above the entrance, its faded lettering barely legible beneath years of wear. Lanterns burned low along the perimeter, casting warm pools of light that softened the building's edges.
Ordinary—deliberately so.
“This is definitely not just an inn,” I murmured.
Beside me, Kieran didn’t break stride. “Definitely not.”
His voice was quiet, pitched low enough that it wouldn’t carry, but I felt the awareness and tension in it. Controlled, contained, but very much there.
Good.
