SERAPHINA
I wake to the sound of Azriel's laughter filtering through the connecting door.
For a moment, I'm disoriented—the room is too cold, the bed too large, the light from the window hitting at the wrong angle. Then memory crashes back. We're in Winterhold. In Kieran's fortress. This is our life now.
I throw back the covers and pad barefoot to Azriel's room, pushing the door open quietly.
He's sitting cross-legged on his bed in his nightclothes, and Kieran is crouched beside him, showing him something. My breath catches at the sight—the Ice King in casual trousers and an untucked shirt, his silver-streaked hair slightly mussed, looking almost... normal.
"And this is the Northern crest," Kieran says, pointing to something I can't see. "The wolf represents strength and loyalty. The
