Seraphine’s Scars
The twins stood in Seraphine’s chambers, the air thick with unspoken tension. Lyra’s fists were clenched at her sides, her silver eyes blazing with barely restrained fury. Eryon stood behind her, his stance rigid, his wolf bristling at the charged atmosphere.
“Why did you leave us?” Lyra demanded, her voice shaking with anger. “Why did you abandon us?”
Seraphine, seated by the window with the artifact glowing faintly on the table beside her, didn’t answer immediately. Her silver eyes grew distant, and for a moment, it seemed as though she hadn’t heard the question at all. Then, slowly, she rose to her feet, her movements graceful but heavy with emotion.
“You think I abandoned you,” she said softly, her voice trembling. “But I didn’t. I fought to keep you safe, even when it cost me everything.”
Lyra scoffed, her anger flaring. “Safe? We were thrown into a portal and left to fend for ourselves! If you cared so much, why didn’t you come for us sooner?”
Seraphine’s expression darkened. In one fluid motion, she unbuttoned her blouse and pulled it aside, revealing a jagged scar that ran across her abdomen. The sight of it silenced Lyra instantly, her anger replaced by a flicker of shock.
“This is why,” Seraphine said, her voice steady but tinged with pain. “Malrik betrayed me. He stabbed me and threw me off a cliff, leaving me for dead.”
Eryon’s amber eyes widened, his wolf growling faintly as he took in the brutal scar. “Malrik…” he murmured. “The King’s general?”
Seraphine nodded, her gaze hardening. “He wanted you—both of you. When I refused to give you up, he tried to kill me. And when that didn’t work, he had me dragged to the dungeons.”
Her voice trembled as she continued, her silver eyes glinting with raw emotion. “I spent years there, tortured, waiting for an opportunity to escape. And when I finally did, I searched for you. Every scar I carry is proof of that.”
Lyra’s chest tightened as she stared at Seraphine, the weight of her words pressing down on her like a stone. “Why didn’t you tell us?” she asked quietly, her voice barely above a whisper.
Seraphine stepped closer, placing a hand on Lyra’s cheek. “Because I didn’t want you to carry that burden,” she said softly. “I wanted to give you a chance to be strong—to survive without the shadow of my past haunting you.”
Eryon shifted uncomfortably, his instincts warning him that there was more to the story than Seraphine was revealing. But her words, her scars, her trembling voice—they all felt so achingly real.
“I survived for you,” Seraphine said, her voice breaking. “And I won’t let anyone take you from me again.”
Her tone hardened, her silver eyes blazing. “Not Malrik, not the King, not anyone.”
