Maya and Tessa exchanged a glance across the hall, eyes flicking from Parker to Nyxavere like they were watching gravity shift in real time. Even they—used to Parker's moods, his quiet storms, his ruthless calm—could feel something was off. It wasn't rage. It wasn't power. It was... confusion, thick in the air like smoke that couldn't find an exit.
Seraphina, ever the youngest, ever the brightest in her own dreamy way, stood awkwardly behind them, her silver hair catching the flickering light. She tilted her head, picking up on the shift but not the source. Her eyes kept scanning the others like she was trying to find the script everyone else had already read.
"Why's it so gloomy all of a sudden…?" she whispered to herself, but no one answered.
Seraphina, lingered near one of the shattered pillars, her silver hair catching fragments of broken light. She didn't speak. Didn't know how. The tension was thick enough to drown in, but no one had told her why.
