The world hadn't yet recovered from Seraphis's collapse. The blood moon was gone, but its ghost lingered in the air — thick, metallic, and warped.
Eleyn stood nearby, panting softly, her dress torn and burned in several places. She kept glancing toward Seraphis, grief carving deep lines across her usually cold features. She did not know how to comfort a grief that large, even if it was her own heart.
And then a branch snapped at the edge of the clearing. She turned, Judge stepped out from between the trees.
He was limping slightly; his body was a map of injuries. His face — still fractured like a broken statue — looked almost unreal under the natural sunlight. The cracks glowed faintly from the ether forced into him by the Heart of Nothing. But despite all that, Eleyn recognized him instantly. Her breath caught. Her eyes softened.
