The cold hit her the moment they stepped outside. Inside the ballroom, everything had been warm and light, the air thick with perfume and laughter. Out here, the night carried a bite sharp enough to sink into her bones.

Lucien draped a heavy fur-lined coat over her shoulders before helping her into the carriage. The fur was soft, wrapping her in warmth, but even as she pulled it tight around herself, the chill did not ease. She told herself it was only because of the sudden change of seasons. Summer had clung stubbornly to her old world, and now she found herself in a land where snow already thickened on the distant hills.

The carriage door shut, and darkness settled in, broken only by the glow of a single lantern swaying above. Lucien sat across from her, composed, his gaze fixed on her with unnerving calm.

The carriage swayed over the frozen road, each wheel crunching against frostbitten stone. The air was sharp enough to sting her lungs, and even with the fur coat warming her body, Seraphine could not stop trembling.

At first she told herself it was only the cold. But as the carriage carried her further into the dark, she realized it wasn’t the chill alone.

Her hands trembled. Her chest tightened.

Something was very wrong.

A spike of pain lanced through her skull, white-hot and splitting, stealing her breath. Her vision darkened at the edges, warping the inside of the carriage into shadowy shapes. A scream caught in her throat but would not come out. She doubled forward, clutching her head as shards of memory tore through her mind.

A pale middle-aged woman’s face, drenched in sweat, slack with death. A newborn child, blue-lipped, still and cold. The sound of someone screaming, raw with despair, until the voice cracked.

Shards of memory that were not hers burned in her mind. Were they memories, or glimpses of a future she had yet to live? They felt like her own, yet they were not. Still, the pain was real, searing as if she had already lived it.

Her body shook violently. Cold sweat clung to her skin despite the fur. Each breath was ragged, shallow, as if her lungs had forgotten air.

“Seraphine!”

Lucien’s voice cut through the storm raging in her mind, raw with panic. The calm he always carried shattered in an instant. He lurched forward, catching her shoulders with trembling hands that tried to steady her.

His voice reached her through the haze, low and uncertain. “What’s wrong?”

Through her blurred vision, she saw him hesitate. One gloved hand hovered, then drew back. He muttered something under his breath, an apology perhaps, before tugging off one glove.

“Excuse me,” he said quietly, and his bare hand brushed against her forehead. The sudden contrast of his cool skin made her flinch. His breath caught.

“You’re burning,” he gasped, worry threading every word. He hesitated, then shook his head. “No… wait. We need to stop and call a physician immediately.”

Seraphine felt the tremor in his voice, saw his golden eyes flicker with worry, and for a moment, imagined he feared she might collapse into his arms.

She forced herself upright, though her lungs still shuddered for air. “No,” she managed, shaking her head hard, strands of crimson hair clinging to her damp forehead. “Don’t stop. I’m fine.”

“You are not fine,” Lucien insisted, his brows drawn tight. His thumb brushed unconsciously against her trembling hand, as though he could steady it with touch alone.

The pain ebbed as suddenly as it had come, leaving only a dull throb behind, like an echo in her skull. Seraphine leaned back, pressing her lips together until the shaking stilled. She would not break apart here. Not in front of him.

“I’m fine now,” she said again, firmer. She could not explain it. She could not admit she had glimpsed death through eyes not her own.

Lucien did not argue. He stayed close, silent, watching her as though any moment she might shatter again.

Seraphine turned her gaze to the window, to the blur of falling snow beyond. Her heart still raced, but not from fear alone. She had to get home. More than ever, she had to reach her mother. Whether the desperate need was hers or the original Seraphine’s no longer mattered.

The carriage rumbled through the dark, and her reflection in the glass stared back pale and shaken, as if a stranger sat in her place.

Lucien did not retreat to his seat when she leaned back. He lingered, his hand still hovering near hers as though afraid to let go. The silence stretched, heavy with the echo of her ragged breaths.

“You’re pale,” he said at last, his voice low, uncertain. He hesitated, then shrugged off his own cloak and draped it across her lap, fussing with the folds as though that might fix what had just happened. “It might help… I mean, just until the fire at the estate.”

Seraphine glanced at him. The cloak was warm, carrying a faint cedar scent, but it wasn’t warmth she lacked. Still, she let it rest across her knees, unsure how to refuse without unravelling his oddly careful gesture.

Lucien shifted back a fraction, only to frown, his hands curling restlessly in his lap. For a moment, he looked like a man about to leap from a battlefield rather than a carriage. “If… If you wish, I could speak with the driver. The road is rough, and perhaps—” He stopped himself, jaw tightening. “No. That isn’t it, is it?”

Seraphine blinked at him. Not sure what he was trying to say.

He caught her stare, then quickly looked away toward the window, his ears coloring faintly. “Forgive me. I don’t know what… what I should say. You seemed… in pain. And I thought—” His words faltered into silence.

The carriage swayed. The snow thickened outside, veiling the trees in pale shadow.

For the first time, she saw how hard he was trying. The usually composed, unreadable Lucien was restless, clumsy even, fumbling for some way to comfort her. He wasn’t cold, and wasn’t indifferent. Just awkward.

Seraphine’s lips quirked faintly, despite herself. “You don’t need to say anything. Just bring me home.”

Lucien’s head turned back to her, trying to read her face for any expression that would give him more clues. His voice softened, steadier now. “As you wish. Quiet suits me well enough. It’s a long ride, maybe another three hours at this pace. You can rest on me if you need to.”

Those were his last words. He was not staring too intently, not filling the silence with useless words. Simply sitting close enough that she felt his presence, like a steady flame in the dark. Instead of sitting across from her, he was sitting next to her now.

For all his awkward fumbling, his quiet companionship spoke louder than anything else.

For the first time in what felt like hours, Seraphine dared to let her guard down, relaxing her body. She did not trust the world around her completely, but this small gesture, this quiet kindness, allowed her to breathe.

–I have to see this through. I have to figure out who I am in this story, and who he truly is. If he is genuine, then… maybe I can trust him a little. Just a little.

She was staring out of the window, even though Lucien offered for her to lean on him, she would not take up on that offer. They may be engaged, but she wanted to annul it. It was not right to give him false hope or fool him. If he was truly kind like he appeared to be, she couldn’t do this to him. She either had to tell the truth, even if he would think of her as crazy, or she would just break his heart. She would rather not break his heart. He seemed to genuinely like her, why else is he referring to her only by her first name? No formalness, no title attached to it. Just her name.

She glanced at him and sighed softly. It was going to be hard to break the news to him. Now was not the right time. She better just wait for another moment.

Seraphine looked out of the window and was just thinking how her life would turn out now. Time was passing by slowly. Thoughts were filling her head. Was her father alright? Did he make it alright in this weather? It was quite dangerous to rush on a horse when all around was snow. Soft fresh snow was on the ground aside from the road. Maybe that made a difference. Did she have to worry about him too? So many things she had to think about…

She closed her eyes and leaned against the cold window. If this was still a dream, she sure hoped she would wake up by the time she opened her eyes. At this moment, she wished to empty her mind and rest while she could.

The carriage creaked over a frozen branch, and the lamps of the du Fane keep of their fortress appeared in the distance, their warm glow a stark contrast to the biting snow outside. Seraphine’s eyes opened as her stomach tightened again, pain coiling like a serpent. The closer they came, the heavier her dread became. She could almost feel death nearing her. As if the whole keep was looming in darkness and depression.

Lucien leaned slightly forward, his voice soft. “We’re nearly there. Will you be okay?”

Seraphine gripped the edge of her coat. “Yes, I’m fine,” she whispered, her voice trembling slightly. “I will be fine…”

“Alright,” Lucien said, his golden eyes warm with understanding, not going to press on more. “I’ll be right behind you.”

The carriage came to a halt, and Lucien stepped out first, holding his hand out to help her down. She took it, letting him steady her with quiet care.

“Thank you, Lucien,” she said, the words carrying more than gratitude for the physical help. They were for his patience, his gentle presence, and the unexpected warmth that had steadied her heart.

They approached the keep, a structure as formidable as a fortress, its stone walls rising against the night. Seraphine’s pulse quickened at the thought of those flashes she had in the carriage. She hoped, prayed even, that she would find her mother alive and well.

They approached the door to the chamber, thanks to the maids leading them. Seraphine paused, glancing at Lucien. “Wait here… outside the room,” she whispered, her voice tight but resolute. “Please… I want to see her first. Alone.”

Lucien inclined his head, concern flickering across his golden eyes. “Of course,” he said softly, stepping back without another word.

Seraphine pressed her hand to the cold door handle. Beyond it, she could hear faint cries, two tiny voices, crying in tandem. Her chest tightened with a mixture of dread and hope.

–They’re alive… at least the babies are.

Taking a steadying breath, she turned the handle and pushed the door open.

Seraphine’s gaze fell on her mother. She looked fragile, almost ethereal, but there was still a quiet strength in the way she held herself.

Her pale ash-blonde hair, damp from sweat and loosely gathered, fell in soft tendrils around her face. Her skin, fair and luminous even in the dim lamplight, carried a delicate warmth, though faint shadows of exhaustion lay beneath her eyes.

Despite the weariness, there was a serene dignity in her posture. A softness that seemed reserved only for her family. Her eyes, a gentle blue, shimmered with a mixture of fatigue and unwavering love as she cradled one of the infants, while the other rested against her father’s chest.

The soft cries of the twins filled the room, a fragile rhythm that made the space feel alive. The faint scent of lavender and candle wax mingled with the earthy warmth of the bedding, grounding her senses in the moment. Seraphine’s fingers itched to reach out, to touch, to confirm that they were real and safe. The faint rustle of blankets and the quiet, steady breaths of her father as he supported the other baby added to the strange calm of the scene.

Her tears fell freely, streaking her cheeks, hot and unrelenting. Even if this woman was not her true mother, Seraphine allowed herself to imagine that this was exactly how the original Seraphine would have felt. The fear finally loosening its grip, replaced by a flood of relief.

Her legs gave way. She sank to the floor, letting relief wash over her, the cries of the babies grounding her in the moment.

They were alive. She was alive.