Saint Estienne
Madeline
Two days later
The air was different here—it was too still, too heavy. There were no birds chirping in the trees. No insect sounds coming from the forest floor. Even the wind felt muffled, as if the world itself was holding its breath for what was to come next. The path beneath our boots had once been paved, but time and tide had cracked it open, letting the wild reclaim what it could. Brambles snaked through fractured stone, and ivy hung like veins from skeletal trees all around us.
And we were still walking.
It had been two days since the Savior attacked Hell, killing more Angels than I could count. It had been two days since I woke up from the strange dream interaction with Alaric after I had broken his collar.
Lucien hadn’t touched me since.
Not really.
