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Coups de cœur Cultura
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The city was quiet, but quiet had a way of whispering lies. I
knew better now. I had felt the Awakening Roar ripple through
the hidden veins of the world, and the aftershocks were still
echoing. Old alignments trembled. Shadows moved in corners
I couldn't see. And somewhere, far below the polished streets
and neon lights, the Shadow Court was regrouping, their teeth
sharpened in the dark.
I walked through the streets like I owned the air. People glanced
up at the skyline and felt it — even if they didn't know what "it"
was. It wasn't my crown they noticed. It was the pulse beneath
it. The hum of authority that had begun to resonate in bone and
memory. I pressed my palm to the pendant at my chest, feeling
its warmth seep into me like a heartbeat. It was a small comfort
against the tremor that ran beneath the city itself.
At the rooftop rendezvous, Seraphiel waited. Wings tucked,
eyes reflecting the early dawn, he looked like he had stepped
out of myth.
