The sky over the old cathedral burned orange, a sunset bleeding into dusk. Its silhouette—jagged, broken—looked like the remnants of something once holy. Kind of like them.
Elias stood by the cracked stained-glass window, watching shadows stretch long over the floor. Behind him, footsteps.
Soft. Measured. Familiar.
Seraphina.
"You always find the places where the world is falling apart," she said, stepping into the light.
"Guess I like the quiet," Elias murmured, eyes never leaving the horizon.
She tilted her head. "You were louder when we met."
"That wasn't me," he replied softly. "Not all of me, anyway."
A silence passed—thick, almost sacred. Then she approached, stopping just behind him. Close enough for her breath to graze his shoulder.
"I knew Silas," she whispered. "But I don't know Elias. Not really."
He turned slowly. "Then ask."
So she did. One question. Just one.
"What do you want from me?"
His gaze dropped to her lips, then her eyes. For a moment, the assassin in her vanished. For a heartbeat, she was just a woman. And him, a man trying not to break.
"I want to stop dreaming about your betrayal before it even happens," he confessed.
Seraphina blinked. Just once. But it was enough.
She didn't answer with words.
Her hands reached for his jaw. Her mouth met his. And in that kiss was everything—longing, confusion, guilt. A silent war neither of them was ready to lose.
But outside…
In the distance…
A message arrived. A shadow on the wall. A warning whispered by the wind.
"He's back."