"Seraphine?" Edward asked, recognizing the voice instantly.

Her slender arms wrapped tighter around him, pressing her warmth against his back. "Miss me?" she whispered with a soft, mischievous giggle.

He turned quickly, and she was there—sitting behind him on the bed, her arms still loosely draped around his shoulders. Her dark hair spilled down in soft waves, and the faint glow of moonlight that leaked through the curtains gave her an almost ethereal look.

Edward blinked in disbelief. "What are you—" he began, but the words barely left his mouth before she moved.

Her lips met his.

The contact caught him off guard. Her kiss was gentle at first, almost hesitant, but then it deepened, filled with the pent-up emotion she had buried for far too long. Edward froze, his thoughts scattering like broken glass. He hadn't expected her—not here, not like this—but in that brief moment, reason faltered.

When she finally pulled back, her breathing was shallow, her gaze fixed on him with a teasing smile that carried a hint of something else. Edward would be lying if he said he didn't feel something stir inside him.

He leaned forward. She fell back onto the bed, her eyes wide, her pulse quick. For a brief heartbeat, time seemed to stop. Then, as he lowered himself toward her, something changed.

A low hum filled the air—a vibration that was more felt than heard. The black ink-like pact mark just above her chest shimmered, then shifted violently beneath her skin.

Seraphine gasped. Her body convulsed, and before Edward could react, her arm shot up, gripping his wrist with unnatural strength.

"Seraphine!"

Her fingers dug in hard enough to hurt. Her pupils dilated, her body trembling as if caught in invisible chains.

Then, as suddenly as it began, it stopped. She released her grip on him and recoiled backward, clutching her arm.

"I-I'm sorry," she stammered, voice breaking. "I don't know what happened."

Her breathing came in ragged bursts. Tears welled up in her eyes as she pressed a hand against her chest, trembling.

Edward moved closer but kept his tone calm. "It's okay. You're okay."

But even as he said it, his eyes darted toward the pact mark. It pulsed faintly—black veins spreading for a moment before turning still.

She shook her head, tears spilling freely now. "It hurt, Edward. It was like… like something was trying to crawl out of me."

Edward's thoughts spiraled.

The Pact Mark.

Every pact came with a binding—an agreement with the evil spirit that dwelled within its user. But those spirits always demanded something in return. Strength, blood, life, there was always a price. And if the contract wasn't honored…

Edward didn't want to imagine what happens then.

"Seraphine," he said quietly, "when was the last time you fed the pact?"

Her expression went blank. "I haven't. Not once."

Edward felt his chest tighten. "Since it formed?"

She nodded. "I met you few days after forming it. I thought… if I ignored it, maybe it would fade away."

"I doubt those things can fade away," he thought to himself but didnt say a word. He didn't want to scare the girl any more than she already was.

He wanted to tell her it would be okay, that she could control it, but he couldn't lie. The pact would only grow hungrier. And the next time it lashed out, she might not recover.

He drew her gently into an embrace. "You're safe," he said quietly. "Just breathe."

She hesitated before leaning into him, burying her face against his shoulder. Her body still shook faintly, but the warmth between them steadied. For a while, neither spoke.

When her breathing finally slowed, she whispered, "I don't want to be alone tonight."

Edward nodded. "You can stay here with me."

She relaxed, exhaustion overtaking her as she drifted into uneasy sleep beside him. Edward stayed awake long after, his eyes fixed on the faint pattern of the pact mark that wrapped around her skin.

If she continues to resist, the spirit might consume her.

But if she gives in… she'll lose herself.

There was no easy answer.

By the time dawn crept through the curtains, his thoughts had circled the same truth over and over—he needed to find a way to break that connection before it killed her.

The morning itself had arrived far too soon.

Edward rose quietly, careful not to wake her. Sunlight filtered through the windows, painting the floor in golden streaks. Seraphine slept soundly now, her expression calm.

He adjusted the blanket over her and stepped into the other room. The faint scent of herbs and old wood lingered in the air.

He rubbed his eyes, fatigue dragging at him. The events of last night still played behind his mind like an echo—her sudden pain, the pact marks movement, that terrified look in her eyes.

But he didn't have time to linger. Today, he'd have to face the king—and possibly gain permission to travel to Nightveil Mountains alongside Elarien.

He reached for the door handle and stepped outside.

The air was crisp, the faint chill of early morning brushing against his skin. But before he could take a single step, a voice startled him.

"Ah!"

He looked up to see a familiar figure standing at the doorstep—Aeris.

Her peach-coloured hair caught the morning light, swaying gently in the breeze. She wore a simple pastel-blue dress, the kind she preferred when not bound by duty. Her eyes widened slightly at the sight of him.

"You're back," she said, her tone somewhere between surprise and relief.

"I am," Edward replied, an unbidden smile tugging at his lips.

For a moment, neither spoke. The quiet between them was strangely comfortable. Then she tilted her head. "You look exhausted. Were you up all night again?"

"Something like that," he said.

Her expression softened with curiosity. "You're going somewhere?"

"Yes," Edward answered. "A lot has happened." He gestured down the path, the corners of his mouth lifting faintly. "Walk with me. I'll tell you all."

Aeris nodded and stepped beside him as the two of them began down the road, the golden light of morning spilling across the quiet streets of the elven capital.

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