She had imagined this moment so many times over the months—how it would feel to see Lady Seraphina again.
Sometimes, it was in dreams where Seraphina smiled, her scarred hands resting proudly on Elysia's shoulders.
Other times, it was in nightmares, where that same face turned away in disappointment. But Elysia had never imagined this.
Not like this.
Seraphina stood tall in the fractured light of the throne room, silver armor dusted with ash, her stance as rigid and powerful as Elysia remembered.
She looked unchanged despite the years short-cropped black hair, sun-darkened skin, her body carved from discipline and war.
Only her green eyes had shifted. They weren't the warm, watchful gaze Elysia had known as a child. Now, they were sharp, cold, and unreadable.
Still, Elysia's heart ached at the sight of her.
She took a shaky step forward, unsure whether she wanted to cry or embrace her.
"Lady Seraphina…" Her voice trembled. "It's been a while."
Seraphina didn't move.
