Duchess Isolde's POV
The night bled into the air like ink seeping through silk.
And in the hollow heart of the Crimson Keep, I stood before the altar of Seraphyne, the Forgotten Goddess of Night and Renewal, once worshiped by those who feared the end of life.
Seraphyne was said to have died a thousand times, reborn through every vessel foolish enough to seek her blessing. She whispered of eternity, of beauty that never withered, and of dominion that stretched beyond death itself. Her temples were long turned to dustbut I rebuilt one here, beneath my chambers, where no mortal eyes could see.
The moon above had turned to a slit of silver, the mark of offering.
I drew a blade across my palm and let my blood drip into the Malyrian bowl carved with her sigil, a crescent consuming the sun.
"Seraphyne," I whispered, "Mother of Shadows, Keeper of what the gods abandoned… grant me your gaze. I bring blood worthy of your remembrance."
