As Solin left, the tension in the chamber lingered, thick like the air before a storm.

Dorian exhaled sharply, rubbing his face. He was exhausted, but sleep wouldn't come easy. Not now.

Lirien nudged him with an elbow. "You heard him. We leave at first light. You should get some rest."

Dorian shot her a look but said nothing. Finally, he gave a short nod. "Come on. I'll show you to your room."

They walked through the dimly lit corridors in silence. The fortress was quiet, save for the distant hum of wind through the stone walls. It was the kind of quiet that put Dorian on edge.

Something was off.

He slowed his steps, his gaze flickering over the flickering torches that lined the halls.

Then, without turning, he spoke.

"Seraphia. I know you're there."

The silence stretched, thick with something unspoken. Then, the air shifted—not with the subtle pull of a presence stepping forward, but with the sharp, unnatural ripple of reality bending.

A few feet ahead, a tear in space itself unfolded, delicate as silk, yet thrumming with immense power. From it, Seraphia emerged.

She stepped into the hallway like a specter, the edges of her form briefly flickering as the fabric of reality knitted itself back together. Her dark cloak settled around her, and beneath its hood, her golden eyes burned cold and unreadable.

A Horizon Walker.

She had always moved like she wasn't bound to the same rules as the rest of them. Like she could slip away at any moment, leaving only echoes behind.

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Dorian's jaw tightened. He had felt her before he had seen her. He hated that.

Seraphia tilted her head, amused. "Still sharp."

Lirien tensed beside him, but Dorian didn't react. He just met Seraphia's gaze, unflinching. "You never could stay out of my way for long."

A smirk tugged at the edge of her lips. "And you never could stop looking over your shoulder for me."

Dorian let out a slow breath through his nose. He wasn't going to do this. Not here. Not now.

Seraphia took a step closer, her movements fluid, effortless—like she wasn't quite walking, but rather gliding through the folds of existence. The air around her shimmered for the briefest moment before settling again.

Lirien glanced between them, eyes narrowed. "You two… know each other?"

Seraphia's smirk deepened. "You could say that."

Dorian's hands curled into fists at his sides. "What do you want, Seraphia?"

Seraphia exhaled, her gaze flickering with something unreadable before it hardened again. "I saw your fight with Solin," she mused. "You're improving."

Dorian's scowl deepened. "That doesn't answer my question."

Seraphia clicked her tongue, feigning disappointment. "So impatient. Fine." She exhaled and lifted her chin, her smirk turning razor-sharp. "Arcon asked me to join your little expedition. Apparently, you all need someone experienced on the team."

Dorian's nostrils flared. "We don't need you."

Seraphia arched a brow. "No? Because from where I was standing, Solin was handling you just fine. If you think you're ready for what's coming in the Northern Expanse, you're either braver than I remember… or dumber."

Dorian took a step toward her before he caught himself.

She was baiting him. Like always.

Seraphia chuckled, clearly entertained by his reaction. "Relax. I'm not here to make your life miserable." She paused, then added with a smirk, "That's just a bonus."

Lirien glanced between them, her brows furrowing slightly. "You two have history."

Seraphia's smirk didn't falter, but there was something else in her gaze now—something distant. "Something like that."

Dorian forced a breath through his teeth, rolling his shoulders to shake off the tension in his muscles. "Stay out of my way, Seraphia."

She leaned in just slightly, her voice dropping to a murmur. "You wish you still had that kind of control over me."

Lirien raised a brow but wisely kept her mouth shut.

Dorian exhaled, turning away before he said something he'd regret. "Come on, Lirien. We leave at first light."

As he walked off, Seraphia watched him go, her smirk lingering—but her gaze unreadable.

The past was never truly buried.